Eleven
eleven
PIECE BY PIECE - KELLY CLARKSON
CALLIE - DECEMBER 4, 2013
I t’s around five in the morning and Owen is already up when I shuffle into the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wraps around me like a hug. He’s standing at the counter, pouring coffee into his travel mug, his broad back turned to me. He already has his work clothes on–worn jeans, a long-sleeved neon yellow shirt, and his heavy Carhartt jacket draped over the chair. I’m glad I get to see him before I head back to work this morning too. His presence gives me the comfort I need right now.
He turns when he hears me come in, his lips twitching into a tired smile. “Morning, Dollface.”
I try to smile back, but it doesn’t quite feel right. Rather than forcing it, I remind myself that no one smiles that much and make a bee-line for the coffee pot, pouring myself a cup before leaning into him.
Owen wraps his arms around me, and I can tell he sees straight through the smile I’m still trying to force. “You okay?”
I nod, though I’m not sure I am.
His gaze flickers over my face, his brows drawing together slightly. He sets his mug down and settles his hands on my hips. “You don’t have to go back today, you know.” His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid one wrong word might make me detonate.
I shake my head, staring down into my coffee. “I need to.”
“Why?”
I exhale, gripping the mug tighter and trying not to get frustrated with him. We’ve been over this but I know he’s just trying to be helpful and I love him for it. “Because I’m never really going to feel ready, and I can’t keep depending on you to pick up the slack. It’s my responsibility to take care of my girls.”
He looks at me in a way that breaks my heart. I can tell I’ve hurt his feelings by implying the girls are mine alone. His jaw tightens. “Callie–”
“I feel like I’ve lost myself, Owen.” The words spill out before I can stop them. “I love Ruby, I love Sara, I love you and Barrett. But I feel like I’ve been swallowed whole by being a mom, and I don’t know how to come back from that other than getting myself back out into the real world and contributing to our family.”
His expression softens, there’s understanding in his eyes.
“I just want to feel normal again,” I say.
Owen nods, reaching for my hand. “Okay,” he says quietly and I appreciate him for not fighting me on this. “Just… be easy on yourself today, alright?”
I exhale, my fingers tightening around his. “I’ll try.”
A couple hours after Owen has left for work, I glance at my reflection in the mirror and sigh. My body doesn’t feel like mine anymore. I’m still getting used to the curve of my belly, the swell of my full breasts, the stretch marks that map out my journey through pregnancy. The ache in my back from the epidural is just another reminder of how my body has changed, the bruising from it still visible weeks later. This is the first time I’ve given birth while being in a healthy relationship. A healthy relationship that prior to giving birth a couple weeks ago, included a whole lot of sex.
I adjust my shirt to make it not cling too tightly. Nothing fits me right anymore. Thank God leggings are the style because I’ve been living in them, nursing bras and the baggiest t-shirts I can find. Every outfit I’ve tried on reminds me of how much I dislike my body these days. Breastfeeding has helped me lose some baby weight, but I have a long way to go before I’m comfortable in my own skin again.
My sister’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Callie, are you ready to go?” Taylor calls from my kitchen.
“Coming!” I yell back, grabbing my purse and heading into the hallway. Taylor’s sipping a coffee, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. I envy how effortlessly she carries herself and often wish I could feel like that. Just standing here, I’m hyper-aware of every inch of my body, every flaw that feels magnified in my own mind.
She eyes me over her mug. “You’ve been fussing with your clothes for twenty minutes. What’s going on?”
I hesitate, leaning against the counter. “I have my doctor’s appointment today after work.”
“Okay… and?”
“Well, for starters, I’m mortified to get on the scale. I don’t want to even know. I always feel like I’m being judged because I know I’m overweight.”
“Callie, you just had a baby! Cut yourself some slack,” she says, setting her mug down with a slight thud.
“I wish I could,” I assure her. “But you know what it was like growing up… we had to be a certain size and look a certain way and I just… I can’t break that mindset.”
“Trust me, I get it,” Taylor says, leaning against the counter. “I still can’t eat anything sweet without hearing Mom’s voice saying, ‘A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.’ It’s exhausting, but you’ve gotta tell that voice in your head to fuck off.” I almost spit out my coffee at my sister’s crassness. I’m usually the vulgar one of the two of us. “You’re beautiful, sis. Please don’t let our mother’s insecurities and fat-phobia affect the way you think about yourself. You have to give yourself a break. You’ve been doing the best you can, and if Dr. Everett can’t see that, then maybe it’s time to look for a new doctor.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up a hand. “And as far as Rita is concerned, you just wait and see what happens if Mom decides she wants to pop off about your weight when Ruby is barely a month old.” Her eyes flash with determination, and I’m reminded of how fiercely Taylor has always defended me.
“Thanks, Tay.”
“Besides,” she pauses, taking another sip of her coffee as I do the same, “if they aren’t feeding, financing, or fucking you, they can fuck off.”
That’s when I do, in fact, spit out my coffee. “Jesus, Taylor!” I cough, grabbing a napkin to wipe my chin.
She smirks, unfazed. “What? You know I’m right.”
I shake my head, still laughing despite the lump in my throat. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good. Now get going before you overthink yourself into calling off. I’ve got the girls while you’re at work. Try not to stress yourself out too much.”
I glance toward the baby monitor, listening for any sound from the girls’ bedroom, but they’re still asleep. The guilt of leaving Ruby for the first time squeezes me again, but I push past it, grabbing my purse before I change my mind.
Taylor gives me a knowing look as I reach for my keys. “You’ve got this, Callie. And if you don’t, fake it until you do.”
I nod, swallowing hard. As I step outside, the cold air hits me, sharp and crisp, waking me up like coffee never could. I exhale, watching my breath form a cloud in the air. As tears well in my eyes, I try to remind myself that I can do this.
I have to.
By the time I pull into the parking lot of Brooked & Brewed, my nerves are strung so tight I feel like I might snap in half. My hands grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my pulse pounding. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to open the door and step out. The cold air bites my tear-stained cheeks once again, and I wrap my arms around myself as I head inside, missing my girls already.
The second I push open the shop door, I’m hit with the familiar scent of coffee and cinnamon and the buzz of the regular morning routine. Brooke looks up from behind the counter, her face softening. For a brief second, I feel at ease. “There’s my girl,” she says warmly, setting down the towel in her hands and moving towards me. She doesn’t launch herself at me, doesn’t smother me in a hug the way she normally would. Instead, she stops a few feet away, like she’s giving me space to decide whether I need comfort or not.
That makes me want the comfort even more. I step forward, and she immediately pulls me into a hug.
“God, I’ve missed you,” she murmurs before pulling back to look me over. “How are you holding up?”
I swallow, forcing a small smile. “I’m surviving.”
Brooke tilts her head, studying me the way only a best friend can. “That’s something.”
I exhale, rubbing my hands over my arms. “I’m just ready to get back at it. I want to feel normal again.”
Brooke gives me a look, one eyebrow arching. “You’ve never been normal a day in your life.”
I snort, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “Fair.”
She smiles, then nudges me toward the back. “Okay, go put your stuff away, and I’ll get you an easy start. I’ve got orders covered, you can handle the register, or just wipe down the counters, whatever you need.”
I hesitate. “I can work, Brooke. I don’t need–”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t work,” she interrupts. “I’m just saying no pressure today, alright. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
Yes, I do.
But I don’t have the energy to argue with her. Instead, I nod and head to the back to store my things. When I return, Brooke hands me an apron. “You ready?”
I slip it over my head, the motion so familiar that it feels like second nature. “As I’ll ever be.”
For a few minutes, I let myself get lost in the motions, pouring coffee, ringing up customers, wiping down tables. It’s easier than I expected. Maybe I’ll be okay after all.
Then the door opens, and a familiar voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Well, look who’s back!”
I glance up and find Frank Reynolds, one of our regulars, standing in front of the counter with a broad grin. He’s in his mid-fifties, always dressed in the same uniform with a faded baseball cap. A retired mechanic, Frank has been coming here every morning since Brooke opened, ordering the same thing, black coffee and one of Brooke’s famous cinnamon rolls.
I muster up a smile trying to push past the nerves tightening my stomach. “Hey, Frank.”
“Figured you’d forgotten about us,” he teases, resting his elbows on the counter. “Thought I was gonna have to start making my own damn coffee.”
Brooke scoffs from beside me. “You say that like you haven’t been in here every day Callie’s been away.”
Frank smirks. “You’ve got me there. But Callie at least serves it with a smile unlike you, smart mouth.” He turns back to me, his expression softening. “How’s that new baby of yours?”
“She’s good,” I say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “She’s getting bigger every day.”
“Bet she’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” he chuckles.
I huff out a laugh. “Pretty much.”
Frank slides a few bills across the counter. “Well, it’s good to see you back. Place hasn’t been the same without you.”
“Thanks, Frank. It’s good to be back.”
Brooke passes him his coffee and cinnamon roll, and Frank gives me one last nod before heading to his usual seat by the window. I don’t miss when he slips more money than usual into the tip jar before he walks away.
For the first time all morning, I feel steady. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I will be okay. The door opens again, and an older woman steps inside, her face lighting up when she sees me “Callie! You’re back!”
I instantly feel terrible because I cannot, for the life of me, remember her name. “Yep!”
She beams. “And how are those girls of yours? You know, my daughter had her second last year, and she was huge!”
For a moment, I’m put off before realizing it’s her granddaughter she’s saying was huge rather than commenting on the size her daughter was when she was pregnant. Thanks, Mom.
“How big was yours?” Mrs. Whats-Her-Name continues.
“Eight pounds, thirteen ounces.”
“Oh! She’s a big girl! Well, you look great, honey–better than I did after I had my kids, that’s for sure. It took me forever to lose the weight. My youngest is thirty-one and some days, I still think I’m trying to lose the baby weight,” she jokes.
Brooke steps in smoothly. “She looks amazing, doesn’t she? Total MILF.”
The woman laughs, oblivious to my discomfort at them commenting on my body, although I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh, absolutely!”
Brooke waits until she’s gone before turning to me, her eyes sharp with concern. “You good, babe?”
I let out a slow breath, trying to steady my hands. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Callie…”
“I just need a minute.” I step away from the counter, into the back room, and press my hands against the cool surface of the prep table. I knew today would be hard. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling I should be home with my girls instead of back here already. I expected to be asked about my daughters, especially Ruby, when I came back to work, but I didn’t expect it to stir feelings quite this strong. My heart hurts, and so do my freaking boobs.
I decide to take some time to myself in Brooke’s office, getting out my traveling breast pump so I can get some relief while I catch my breath. A few minutes later, Brooke knocks before poking her head in. “I can cover for you if you need to leave.”
I shake my head. “No.”
She tilts her head. “You sure?”
I inhale sharply, straightening my shoulders. “I need to do this, Brooke.”
She studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Okay.”
I finish up with the pump before heading back out to the front, my heart pounding. I’m not okay, not yet, but maybe if I keep moving forward, I’ll get there.