The Redemption of Callie and Kayden (7 page)

#67 Reunite with something you thought you lost

Callie

We arrive in Afton late at night when the moon is a

ginormous orb in the charcoaled sky and the blizzard is creating a

veil in front of the truck, making it hard to see. We would have

made it here by dinnertime, but Seth made us stop for lunch and

play in the playhouse at McDonald’s. But it was kind of all our

faults for getting so carried away and staying until we got in

trouble by the manager.

I think we were all avoiding something. But what that is, I’m

still trying to figure out. After a very long, exhausting drive, Seth and I sneak up into the garage and crash on the bed without

having to talk to my mother. The place holds one of the strongest

memories in my head, and when I first walked in, I nearly fell over

as I remember how it felt when Kayden touched me, kissed me,

became a part of me.

“I’m bummed,” Seth states as we lie face to face on the bed

in our pajamas. The space heater hums in the background and the

glow of it and the lamp highlights the spackled spots on the walls.

He fakes a pout. “I was totally looking forward to meeting your

mother.”

I gently pinch his arm. “You liar. You’re so glad she’s asleep.”

He giggles and then rolls to his side, propping himself up on

his elbow. “I know. I wish I was, but from what you tell me about

her, she’s not going to be that fond of my colorful personality.”

I sit up in the bed, take the elastic out of my hair, and then

refasten my ponytail. I let my arms fall into my lap and I chew on

my lip, thinking about tomorrow and seeing Kayden.

Seth touches my bottom lip and my initial reaction is to

flinch, but I work at it and keep it under control. “A penny for your thoughts?”

“It’s nothing.” I sigh and flop down on the bed on my side.

“I’m just wondering what it’s going to be like… seeing him again.”

He considers this as he sweeps his bangs off his face. “It’ll be

like the first time I decided I was going to talk to you. You have to think of Kayden like a skittish cat. If you say the wrong thing, he

might flip out.”

“You thought of me as a skittish cat?”

“A skittish kitten.” He grins and winks at me. “You looked like

you were going to claw my eyes out the moment I approached

you.”

I fluff the pillow and tuck my hands under my head. “What if

I say something wrong, though, and he gets upset?”

He unlatches his watch and rolls to the side to set it on the

Tupperware bin next to the bed. Then he pivots to his hip and

faces me. “You won’t.”

I lift my legs up and slide them underneath the blankets.

“How can you be so sure?”

He smiles and touches the tip of his finger to the tip of my

nose. “Because he opened up to you the first time, which means

you’ve already said the right things. So all you have to do is go

there tomorrow and be yourself.”

“I hope you’re right.” I click the lamp off and the room goes

dark. The pale glow of the moonlight filters in through the window.

“I really hope you are.”

“I’m always right, darling,” he says, and then squeezes my

hand. “Just don’t overthink it.”

I shut my eyes and hold onto the thought that tomorrow I’ll

see him, alive, and not bleeding on the floor. Maybe then I can

finally get the god-awful image out of my head.

Kayden

It’s mid-December, the start of winter break. If I weren’t here,

I’d be heading home from school, probably with Callie and Luke.

It’s weird knowing she’s probably driving into town right now, just

getting home, so close to me in distance, and yet she still seems

far away, almost unreachable, since I’m stuck in here and she’s out

there.

I’ve secretly been collecting rubber bands and I have five of

them on my wrist. Not that Doug knows it. I kept pretending that I

broke them until I had a collection. The thickness gives more of a

sting and it settles me on the inside each time I flick them. I need a lot of settling because my mother showed up tonight and has

been here for over an hour trying to work things out with the

doctor and Doug to get me released.

They’re over by the doorway having a conversation about me

like I’m not even here. It’s actually more of an argument than a

conversation.

“But we’ll be there watching him at all times.” My mother

talks with her hands a lot and she’s got long fingernails. Every time she says something she swings her arms animatedly and almost

nails the doctor in the eye.

Doug fans through his yellow-sheeted notebook and reads

through his notes. “Look, Mrs. Owens, I know this must be hard for

you, but I don’t think it’s healthy for Kayden to leave the facility

just yet. In fact, I’d advise against it.”

My mother taps her foot on the floor and crosses her arms

as she stares Doug down like he is a small, insignificant piece of

shit. “Look, I understand what you advise, but I’d rather not take

advice from a doctor who got his PhD from some low-budget

college.”

“I got my PhD from Berkley,” he says, pulling out a pen from

his pocket.

Her gaze sweeps over him and she elevates her eyebrows.

“Really? Then why are you here?”

Doug stays calm as he balances the notebook on his arm

and writes something down. “I might be asking you the same

thing.”

I think I like Doug at that moment and I smile to myself as I

wiggle my finger under the bands and flip them against the inside

of my wrist and let the burn soothe me. I’m sitting in the corner of

the room, not the one I sleep in but a larger one with a lot of

tables and chairs scattered around. The walls are brick and cracked

with old age, but it’s more comforting than the dull white ones in

the room. Some people eat lunch in here, but I choose to eat in my

room because there’s always too much going on, like fights and

yelling and crying.

My mother stabs her fingernail against Doug’s chest. “Don’t

you dare insinuate anything.”

“I wasn’t,” Doug says simply, wincing as he grips the spot on

his chest where my mother stabbed her finger. “It just seems like

you’re awfully eager to take Kayden out of here when it’s clear he’s

not stable.”

I scan the scars on my arms and the bandage on my wrists.

I’ve been picking at the scab that’s underneath it a lot, which is

why it’s not healing. But it’s a fucking habit and I can’t seem to

break it.

“He’s perfectly stable,” my mother insists. There’s a slight slur

to her speech and I wonder if the doctor can hear it. “And it’s my

call, since I’m the one who signed him in to be here.”

I stand up, stunned. “You did that? I thought that was the

hospital?”

She glares at me with annoyance. “I put you here for your

own good. You needed to be watched for a while, but now…

you’ve been here for a little over a week and it’s time to move on

and get your act together.”

Or kept away from my father. “Then I want to leave,” I say,

walking across the room. “And I want to go back to school, not

back home.”

“You can’t,” she replies curtly. “It’s Christmas break.”

“Okay, then maybe I want to stay here.” I back up to the chair

and sit down. I tip my head forward and rub the sides of my

temples with my fingers. “Fuck.” I have no idea what to do. I don’t

want to be in this God damn room anymore, but leaving means

facing the world, myself, my father, Callie.

“If Kayden wants to stay here,” Doug interrupts. “Then he

can.”

“I’m sure as hell not paying for it,” my mother snaps

venomously. She reaches into her purse and takes out the car keys.

“I’m signing you out first thing tomorrow morning and then you’re

coming home—that is, unless you want to fork out your own

money.”

She clutches the keys in her hands and storms out the door,

taking my hope with her. I wonder why she’s doing it. Why she’d

put me in here for barely over a week and then suddenly want me

out. There’s got to be something going on.

Whatever it is, I don’t want to go home. If I do, there’s a

good chance my father’s going to finish what he started.

Doug sighs as he returns his pen to his pocket, and then he

turns to me. “Well, that didn’t go so well.”

“It never does with her.” I shove the sleeves of my

long-sleeved shirt up and rest my arms on my knees. “There’s no

use trying to fight her on anything. She always wins.”

He grabs a chair from the corner and positions it in front of

my chair. He doesn’t bother taking his jacket off, which means he’s

probably not staying long. “Does she win fights with your father?”

he asks as he lowers himself into the chair.

Warning flags pop up all over in my head. I know the drill.

Lie. Lie. Lie. “What do you mean? What fights?”

He crosses his leg over his knee and the bottom of his pants

ride up. He’s wearing these socks with smiley faces on them. “Your

mother and father never fight?”

I shake my head because it’s the truth. They really don’t

because my mother is a yes-dear kind of person. “No, not really.”

His brows pucker and I get the feeling I might have said

something wrong. “Kayden, what’s your dad like?”

My fingertips automatically jerk inward and my nails slice at

my skin. “He’s… he’s a dad. A normal dad.”

“Do you have a good relationship with him?” he questions.

“Because I find it kind of strange that he hasn’t visited you once.”

“Our relationship’s fine.” My throat feels thick with tar. “He

just works a lot of hours.”

His hand whisks across the paper as he writes something in

his notebook and then proceeds into the conversation with

caution. “Has he ever hit anyone in your family?”

It is the perfect opportunity to tell him everything: about my

life, about the pain, about the unworthiness. But it feels like

betrayal and I realize that I’m basically my father’s puppet. It’s a

terrifying and confusing conclusion, like the strings that attach me

to him have wound into knots. “I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He’s skeptical. “Are you sure?”

I nod my head as I stare at the floor in front of me. There’s a

pink stain on it and a lot of the linoleum is cracked and chipped. “I really don’t know.”

He evaluates me, then takes a card out of his front pocket

and extends his hand toward me with it between his fingers. “I

want to see you first thing Monday. My office address is on the

back.” He flips over the card and shows me where the address is

written in his handwriting. “My number’s also on the front. If you

ever need to talk about anything, you can call me anytime.”

I take the card, realizing that committing to his request

means committing to more than just a visit. It means opening up

doors I nailed shut a long time ago and facing all the demons I

locked inside. It means telling him everything, even about my dad.

And then what? What if I actually do? Then what happens to my

family? My mother? My father? Do I care? I don’t know. I don’t

know anything. I think I’m the most fucked-up, confused person

who’s ever lived.

Doug drags the chair back to the corner and then tucks his

notebook underneath his arm as he heads for the door. “I want

you to see you a few times over Christmas break, and then we’ll

find you a therapist to talk to in Laramie when you go back to

college.”

A measured breath eases from my lips as I clench my hand

around his card and bend it in half. I get a paper cut and it

momentarily stills the stirring inside me. “What if I don’t want to?”

He offers me a positive smile. “You do, otherwise you would

have just said no.”

I don’t say anything and it’s a silent agreement. I’ll see a

shrink in Laramie. That is if I make it back to school.

Shit. I’m suddenly reminded of the bigger picture. I have

more problems than just dealing with my father. How the hell am I

going to get out of that mess? Let my father buy Caleb off? Then

what? I owe my father for life? And carry his secrets—our family’s

secrets forever.

Doug exits the room and I let my head fall into my hands. I

drag my fingers through my hair roughly and pull hard on the

roots. For once, I wish that things were easy. That I could relax.

Breathe.

Really, what I wish for is Callie.

Callie

I wake up early the next morning, before the sun has

completely risen over the curves of the mountains. I slept terribly

last night, tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. I kept

having this dream where I’d run into Kayden’s house and find

blood on the floor and knives, but he wasn’t there. I searched the

whole house but all I kept finding were piles and piles of leaves. I

woke up dripping in sweat and ended up throwing up in the

bathroom.

I lie awake in bed, and Seth is snoring next to me, content in

his sleep. I listen to him breathe until I can’t sit still any longer and then get up and grab my notebook from my bag. I take a seat in

the makeshift windowsill that looks out at the snowy driveway. My