21. Peyton
Peyton
Imanaged to keep myself busy yesterday with posting on social media for a traveling circus in Florida and watching rom-coms. I tried not to overthink Callum’s rejection to hang out.
After a few donuts and some hot chocolate, I even convinced myself not to worry…
until I got his text message the next morning.
Hi, Pey. I’m going to be off-grid for a couple days, just dealing with something (not an emergency) that I’ll explain more when we talk next. I don’t want you to be caught off guard if I don’t reply right away like normal. Talk soon, hope you have a good day. Missing you already, honey.
I know it’d be worse if he disappeared for a few days without advance notice. But in this instance, the missing details only create more questions.
When I woke up this morning to zero new messages after two days of silence, I sent him a text. And after hours of sitting in my office and waiting for a reply that never came, I hit my limit and set off for his sister’s boutique.
Caitlyn’s shop is past the town square and down Main street—only a ten minute walk from Good Taste at a leisurely pace. And while I’m not frantic, I’m far from leisurely, so I make it to her door in eight minutes flat.
Waterton Threads has a small handful of customers inside.
Caitlyn’s added a few more seasonal decorations since I was here in September.
Glittery faux snow is thoughtfully placed on the front shelves, and a garland made of evergreen branches and cranberries is strung along the top of the front windows.
Caitlyn stands behind the register, and an associate wearing a nametag that says “Blair” helps shoppers on the floor.
A little burst of pride swells in my chest at how the shop seems to be thriving. I feel lucky to have played a part, albeit a small one.
I mosey around the store first, running my hand against the high-quality fabrics and lingering on a pair of gorgeous clay earrings in the jewelry case. As I wait for Caitlyn to become available, I overhear customer conversations.
One customer holds her phone up to the associate, showing a picture of what I assume to be clothes. “Do you carry Comfort Poppy?”
Poor Blair, who can’t be any older than nineteen, looks absolutely bewildered. “Comfort Poppy? Are you talking about the clothing line at the grocery store?”
The customer nods. “Yes. I have a return.”
Blair’s eyes dart to the cash register, as if Caitlyn will magically appear and take this question off her hands. “Oh. Um… Unfortunately, we don’t carry supermarket brands here. I sincerely apologize.”
I inwardly clap as she flawlessly executes the universal customer service model of retail: give facts, then promptly apologize for said facts.
The woman purses her lips and walks out the front door. Blair makes eye contact with me, and I shoot her an empathetic “been there” look. The absurdity of customer questions reminds me that I no longer possess the patience to work in retail.
There’s only one customer left in Caitlyn’s line, so I make my way toward the cash register. Caitlyn gives a little wave when she notices me.
The older woman checking out holds up a scarf. “This tag on the scarf says twenty dollars, but how much does this scarf actually cost?”
Caitlyn blinks. “It’s twenty dollars.”
“Can I use farmer’s market coins here?”
“No?”
I breathe out a laugh at her tone, happy to get a hit of Galvin after a heavy day of missing Callum.
The woman huffs. “Well, I don’t want this scarf, then.”
“Okay,” Caitlyn says sweetly. “No problem.”
The woman leaves, and Caitlyn comes out from behind the monitor to join me. “Sorry about the wait, Peyton.”
“No worries. I love browsing your store, and that lady provided some great entertainment for me.”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. Yesterday, someone tried to trade me a Monopoly property card from McDonald’s for a bracelet.” Caitlyn giggles. “I mean, to be fair, it was Boardwalk—arguably the best card, but…”
“Oh, we’re back to the bartering system now? Good to know.” I grin, tapping the top of the counter. “Moments like this are small-town gold. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere but Waterton.”
“I’m happy to hear it, and I’m sure Cal is, too.”
I sigh. “Speaking of Callum… He’s kind of why I came. He sent me a cryptic text a few days ago, giving me a heads up that I wouldn’t hear from him while he sorts himself out with some personal stuff. I hate to come to you, but I’m worried. Even with the advance notice, it doesn’t feel right.”
The corners of her mouth turn down, but Caitlyn doesn’t look surprised at all.
I fidget with a piece of my hair. “Anyway, have you seen him? It’s okay if he wants alone time, but—”
“I don’t think his phone is on, Peyton. It’s usually turned off this week.”
I adjust the purse on my shoulder. “I… I’m not trying to pry, but, like I said, I’m just—”
“Today’s a really tough day for him. It’s the anniversary of the death of someone he was really close to. He’s told you about his PTSD?” she asks.
“I don’t know the details, and I’m not asking for them. I’m just here to check in and make sure he’s okay—not get information.”
Caitlyn nods. “You should go see him, if you want.”
I tug on the end of my hair, looping it around my finger. “I think he would’ve asked me to come over if that were true.”
“Sometimes I think he doesn’t know how to ask.”
I worry my lower lip. “You really think I should go?”
“I was actually going to stop by later today and drop off some dinner. I think he’d prefer to see you instead.” She pulls a key out of her pocket and hands it to me.
“I don’t know…”
“Look. We’ve never seen him put the kind of energy into healing as we have since you came along.
I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t know my brother.
He didn’t ask you to come over, because he thinks coping requires solitude.
He still can’t comprehend that people want to help him cope.
And I get the sense that you know helping someone heal isn’t an obligation—it’s a privilege. ”
The key feels cold in my hand as I remember our conversation at the library.
Callum said he didn’t want to tell me about the trigger at the Harvest Festival because he didn’t want to “bring me down.” Because he was embarrassed.
Not because he didn’t want my support, and not because he didn’t trust me.
In the end, that guides my final decision. It’s simple once I boil it down. When someone I care about is going through something hard, I want to be the one they reach for. I want to make myself available to them as an option.
If I get there, and Callum wants to be alone, I’ll leave. But, if he’s anything like the man I know him to be, he’s minimizing his own needs for mine. And that’s something I’ll never do: let someone I love suffer in silence on my behalf.
I close my fist around the key. “Thanks, Caitlyn. This really helped.”
She pulls me in for a quick hug. “Thank you.”