Fifteen
fifteen
CALL ME MAYBE - CARLY RAE JEPSEN
CALLIE - MAY 25, 2013
T he morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I reach for my phone, half-hoping there’s a “good morning” text from Owen. Instead, my screen lights up with a name I wish I could erase from my life—Adam.
My stomach drops.
Adam:
Callie, are you serious? You’re on dating apps? You’re fucking pregnant. What the hell is wrong with you?
A cold and relentless anxiety creeps its way in as I stare at the message. I know I shouldn’t let him get to me but my now deep-rooted instinct to shrink and make myself smaller is still there. It’s been there for so long now I’m not sure I’ll ever fully be over my fear of him lashing out if I say the wrong thing.
His words cut straight through me, sharp and dripping with judgment. What if he’s right? What if I’m wrong for wanting something more, something outside this mess with him? Does it make me a bad mom?
My hand trembles as I set my phone back on the nightstand, desperately trying to push away the rising panic, but the room feels smaller and I swear my own heart is trying to beat out of my chest. Just ignore him, Callie. Today is supposed to be a good day. Don’t let him take that from you. But that voice–his voice in my head–won’t shut up. It never does, always reminding me how worthless I am in moments like this.
Another buzz, another message.
Adam:
This is not okay. You’re carrying my child and you’re out whoring around? Unbelievable.
The knot in my stomach tightens then unravels on repeat as anger burns through my fear. My fingers itch to respond, to call him and scream at him through the screen.
But I can’t.
As angry as his messages make me, my instinct to make myself smaller because of him infuriates me even more. I’m sick of my emotions being dictated by Adam.
Biting the inside of my cheek, tears fill my eyes. My fingers stay frozen over the keyboard while his words blur on the screen in front of me and memories of who he used to be flood back.
What the fuck happened to him that made him so hateful?
A part of me wonders if he’s like this because of how I broke up with him when I was still in high school. Maybe that’s exactly it. What else could it be?
There’s a battle inside me between the familiar fear pulling me down and this new, fragile part of me that wants to fight back .
He doesn’t own you anymore.
It’s hard to remember that, especially when his words wrap around me, a suffocating hold I cannot break free from. He makes me doubt everything I thought I knew about myself. He makes me doubt my strength and my resolve.
I sit up in the bed, still staring at my phone and settle into a new position. When I look up from the screen, I catch my reflection in the mirror on the old vanity across the room. “He can’t control you,” I tell my reflection over and over again.
Taking a shaky breath, I straighten a little more, repeating a new mantra to myself silently. He doesn’t get to control you. You don’t owe him anything.
I finally type out a response.
Me:
Adam, we’ve been over this. We’re not together anymore. You don’t get to control what I do anymore. You lost that right when you started looking elsewhere to get your dick wet.
I hit send before I second-guess myself, heart still pounding out of my chest. Or fall out of my ass.
The lingering fear gnaws at me, but there’s something else now, too–something that feels like relief. Like I’m starting to break free, even if it’s just a little.
His response unfortunately comes almost immediately.
Adam:
Go fuck yourself, Callie.
I let out a bitter laugh, feeling the anger bubbling up again, but this time, I don’t feel the need to shrink. I’m tired of letting him win. I type out my response and realize I might be turning into a bit of a keyboard warrior but it feels good to stick up for myself for once.
Me:
Gladly. Someone’s gotta do it right. Lord knows you didn’t. How’s Janelle?
Smug fucking prick.
I toss my phone onto the nightstand and climb out of bed, my skin still crawling with the need to wash away the control Adam still somehow holds over me. Just as I’m headed to the bathroom, Taylor bursts into the room, Sara following closely behind her.
“Hey! Ready for the crawfish boil?” she asks cheerily. “Sara’s been up for a while but I figured I would let you sleep a little longer.”
I force a smile, pushing aside my frustration with Adam. That was not the text I wanted to wake up to today. “Yeah, I just need to run through the shower. Give me thirty?”
My forced smile must not fool my sister because Taylor asks, “Is something wrong?” Guess I won’t be playing poker with her any time soon.
I sigh, feeling tension creeping up my throat. “It’s Adam. He’s giving me a hard time. He must have seen my dating profile last night. And he’s pissed,” I admit, realization dawning that he has a girlfriend and is still checking FlameFinder regularly.
At least that confirms that I wasn’t the problem, I guess…
Taylor rolls her eyes. “Of course he’s pissed. Janelle dumped him. He’s just miserable and wants to drag you down with him.
My jaw drops open. “Wait–what?”
Taylor shrugs like it’s no big deal, but there’s a glint in her eyes. “Yep, I kept him on my friends list to keep an eye on him after you guys broke up. His relationship status changed to ‘single’ last night. Evidently, Janelle went back to her ex. ”
I blink, trying to process. A bitter laugh escapes my lips. She’d stayed with Adam long enough to get back at both of us, I’m sure of it. Adam dumped her for me all those years ago, and Janelle–vindictive as she is–probably planned this from the beginning. She wanted to see us both hurt. I have to say this news makes the fact that I ended my last text to him asking how Janelle was that much sweeter. No wonder why he shut up after that.
Taylor’s eyes full with what I can only assume is concern as she meets my gaze. “Just promise me you won’t take him back if he comes crawling to you again, okay?”
“I promise,” I say without hesitation.
By the time I’ve showered and dressed, the weight of Adam’s message has eased, replaced by a small sense of victory. I am finally learning to stand up to him. Leaving after I found him at Janelle’s took every ounce of strength that I had. I’m glad to see I’m finally gaining more of that strength back. It feels empowering.
As I help my sister pack a cooler with drinks and snacks to take outside, I feel myself starting to relax. Today is about family, good food, and–hopefully–moving on.
We’re just about to head outside when Taylor notices me staring off, silently wishing that the guy I met last night would just freaking text me already.
“You good?” she asks, a hint of worry in her voice. “Or is Adam still in your head?”
I shake my head, pulling my phone from my back pocket. Still no message from Owen, and I feel a flicker of disappointment. “It’s not just Adam,” I admit, my voice softer than I intended. “I was kind of hoping to get a text from someone else this morning.”
Taylor raises an eyebrow, catching on immediately. “Wait—Owen? Did you give that guy your number? ”
Shock is written all over her face, and I can’t help but laugh. “Relax, Tay. If he turns out to be a creep, I’ll just block him. It’s not like I gave him my last name or anything. I just don’t know if I’m going to keep my profile on FlameFinder and I liked talking to him. So I gave him my number instead.”
“Just be careful, okay?” Taylor’s voice softens, and I can see the worry etched in her eyes. She’s always had this protective streak, and I get it—she’s watched me crash and burn before.
“I know, I know,” I say, though the weight of her concern is heavy. It’s easier to deflect, to lighten the moment. I can’t stand how she looks at me sometimes, like she’s waiting for me to fall apart again. “But hey, don’t worry too much. I gave him my address and social security number. He said he needed it to wire me some money. Oh, and did I mention he’s a prince? From Nigeria. By this time next year, I’m going to be a queen!”
Her eyes narrow, but I can see the small twitch of a smile forming. “Okay, okay, I get it,” she says, shaking her head. “But seriously, Callie, I just want you to be careful. Chaos Callie was… a little too reckless. I worry about you.”
Chaos Callie. The way she says the nickname stings, though I know she doesn’t mean for it to. I’m the one that said I was going to embrace the nickname again. Still, it’s a reminder of who I was—wild, impulsive, always throwing myself into things without thinking. I can’t decide if I miss her or resent her. Maybe a little of both.
“I know you mean well,” I say, softer this time. Her worry pulls at something in me, and for a moment, I let myself feel the weight of it. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to delete my profile just because of Adam. He doesn’t get to win.”
“It’s not just about Adam though,” I assure her. The truth sits heavy on my chest, and I hesitate before admitting it. “It’s just... I don’t know if FlameFinder is quite chaotic enough for me. ”
I wink, but the words sit heavier than I intended. There’s something unsettling about not knowing who I am right now—caught between who I was and who I’m trying to become.
Taylor eyes me for a moment before grabbing a pillow off the sofa and chucking it at me. “You’re impossible!” she huffs, clearly not amused by my teasing.
I catch the pillow, and we both burst into laughter, the tension finally breaking. It feels good to laugh, to let go, even if just for a second. But the undercurrent of uncertainty still lingers, threading through the laughter like a ghost I can’t quite shake.
Sara tugs on my hand, her wide eyes filled with excitement over food I doubt she will actually eat. “Mud bugs, Mama! Mud bugs!”
I smile down at her, grateful for the distraction. For now, I’ll focus on the moment, on her joy, and let the rest settle later. “We’re coming, sweetheart. Auntie and I just needed to get a few things,” I say, ruffling her hair.
Outside, the backyard is already buzzing with activity. Dad is manning the boiling pot, and the spicy scent of crawfish fills the air. Shelly is bustling around, setting up tables while my PawPaw supervises Dad, no doubt offering unsolicited advice.
I help Shelly set out utensils and drinks for everyone while her daughters Lana and Savannah hang back, catching up with Taylor. This is just the kind of day that I need right now–family and good food.
“I hope you’re hungry!” Shelly calls out, setting down a tray. I hesitate, realizing I might need to avoid shellfish while pregnant, but Shelly reassures me with a wink. “Women in the South have been eating crawfish while pregnant for years. You’ll be fine.”
Good. Crawfish is my favorite, and I’m not missing this. “I’m starving,” I say as Taylor hands me a plate. We pile it high with crawfish, corn, and potatoes before settling at one of Dad’s tables in the shade.
I glance over at Savannah’s boyfriend, Brad, smoking a cigarette by the fence, an ankle monitor peeking out from under his jeans. What the hell is that about? I elbow Taylor, and when she notices, she mouths, “Oh my god,” as we both stifle laughter.
That’s one way to make a first impression.
Just as I suspected, Sara’s not so lucky with her meal–after taking a big bite of lemon, her face scrunches up in disgust, and she chucks the whole thing to the ground. Taylor and I laugh as I clean it up, enjoying the lighthearted moment. I’d only attempted to give Sara one teensy bite of the crawfish because I didn’t want her getting the spices on her hands but she quickly spit that out too. So, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for her, it is!
Savannah makes her way over to say hello briefly but we don’t exchange much in the way of conversation. Savannah is older than both Taylor and me. We grew up in two completely different worlds–us in the Midwest and Savannah and Lana in Louisiana. We didn’t see each other often so sometimes it doesn’t even feel like they are my sisters–especially with Savannah’s cold demeanor.
Lana makes her way over too, more sociable and with a bubblier personality than our eldest sister. She sits down next to us and starts chatting about her plans, life, and how work has been. She’s mentioned the same guy a couple times as she talks about work at the hardware store so I suspect there might be more to their relationship than she’s willing to let on with so much of our family around.
As I make quick work of washing the spices off my fingers so I can clean the peanut butter and jelly off Sara, Shelly comes back to check on us. “Everything was delicious, Shelly,” I say as she passes by with a pitcher of sweet tea. God, I don’t know how people drink that crap. No matter how much sugar you put in it, it’s still dirt water.
“Thank you, sweetie. Glad you could all be here,” she replies with a warm smile. “It’s been too long since I had all you girls in one place.”
Dad joins us at the table, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Always good to have everyone together,” he says, glancing around the bustling yard. I can’t help but wonder how hard it is for him not to say anything about Brad’s ankle bracelet. Does he need special permission to be here? Are we going to have to worry about the police showing up?
Later, as I grab a drink from the cooler, Taylor leans in. “So, have you heard from him yet?” She doesn’t need to say who she’s talking about–Owen.
I pull out my phone and shake my head. “Not yet. It’s still early though.” The disappointment seeps into my phone despite my best efforts to sound nonchalant.
When she asks what Owen looks like, I pull up his profile. “He’s cute,” she says after a quick glance at his deep brown eyes and neatly trimmed beard. I normally hate facial hair but his only adds further to how handsome he is. He looks rugged but his smile is playful and welcoming–honestly, it’s fucking sexy.
After a semi-concerned look from Taylor, I assure her I’m not rushing into anything and remind her that the dating profile was her idea to begin with. Taylor smiles, reaching over to squeeze my hand, and tells me that she is proud of me for putting myself out there and just wants me to be careful. Her words make me feel a bit more grounded and supported, reminding me that I’m not navigating this new chapter of my life alone.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, feeling a lightness that wasn’t there before. As I head back to the table, I catch Taylor’s eye, and she gives me a small, knowing smile.
“Come on, girls!” Shelly calls, rallying everyone together. “We’re getting a group picture before everyone leaves!”
We all huddle in close, arms slung over each other, and for a brief moment, the distance and differences fade. The camera clicks, capturing a snapshot of our perfectly imperfect family.