Thirty-Three
thirty-three
CLUMSY - FERGIE
CALLIE - JULY 10, 2013
Owen:
What’s up, chick?
I blink, staring at my phone as if the words will rearrange themselves into something that makes more sense. It’s been three weeks. Three. Whole. Weeks. And that’s all he has to say? No apology, no explanation—just a casual, “What’s up, chick?” like he didn’t completely vanish for nearly a month.
My grip tightens around the phone. I want to yell, scream, throw the damn thing across the room. After all the texts I sent, practically begging for a reason, some kind of closure… and this is what I get?
He ghosted me. And he thinks he can just walk back into my life like nothing happened.
I take a deep breath, steadying the flood of emotions that rush through me. Anger, hurt, confusion… they all blend together in a messy swirl that makes my chest ache .
Then it hits me—I’m standing in my room without any bottoms on, fresh off an orgasm I conjured up by thinking about Owen. And now he’s texting me.
Universe, you have a sick sense of humor.
For a second, I consider not replying. Let him sweat it out. Let him send another dozen texts without a response, see how it feels. But that’s not who I am.
Instead, I pull on a pair of jeans, and in my most mature, composed fashion, I type:
Me:
New phone, who dis?
There’s a slight satisfaction as I hit send, the perfect balance of sass and sarcasm. Maybe it’s childish, but I don’t care.
Owen:
You used that line already, Callie.
Me:
Oh, did I? Must have forgotten just like you “forgot” to text me back for three fucking weeks.
Owen:
I deserved that. But I can explain.
Oh, this should be good. I sit on the edge of my bed, arms crossed, waiting for whatever excuse he’s about to dish out.
Me:
I’m listening…
Owen:
I lost my phone at the hospital. I couldn’t replace it right away, and I hadn’t backed up anything. I didn’t just lose your number, Callie. I also lost two years of photos of Barrett.
I pause, my anger flickering. Losing pictures of his son… that’s a punch to the gut. The typing bubble appears again, and I hesitate, waiting to see what else he has to say.
Owen:
I get that this looks bad, and I know you’re pissed, but I swear I didn’t ghost you on purpose. I just got my old phone back today. Someone found it and turned it into the Verizon store.
You’ve been on my mind, though. I missed you.
I bite my lip, reading his words. Damn it. It’s hard to stay mad when he says stuff like that.
Me:
To be fair… I wasn’t sure I was going to respond either. It’s kind of crazy, though–I was just thinking about you.
Owen:
You were?
Me:
Yeah.
There’s a long pause, and I can practically feel the weight of his next question.
Owen:
I’m okay, I guess. Things have been hectic. How are you? How’s the baby? And Sara? Are you guys doing okay?
Me:
We are alright… It’s been a long couple of weeks.
Owen:
Wanna talk about it ?
The offer catches me off guard. Before I know it, I’m spilling everything—about how stressful the last few weeks have been, about Matt, and about feeling completely overwhelmed. Owen listens, really listens, offering quiet support without judgment. Somehow, talking to him feels like coming up for air.
Owen:
You’re been through a lot. I’m glad you’re doing okay, though.
Me:
I’m getting there. How about you?
Owen:
I’ve been seeing Karissa exclusively, but I’m not sure if it’s going to work out. It’s… complicated.
Me:
Complicated seems to be the word of the year.
Just as I’m about to respond further, my phone buzzes with a call from Mr. Parker, my landlord. The conversation is brief but life-changing—he’s offering me a bigger place, and he’s cutting me a huge break on the rent if I help clean it up. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. A new place, more space for Sara, and a fresh start.
Me:
Oh my God! Guess what?!
Owen:
Chicken butt?
Me:
Cute. No, My landlord offered me a three-bedroom house at a discounted rate!
Owen:
That’s amazing, Callie! You definitely deserve some good news.
Me:
Don’t jinx me!
Owen:
No jinxes, I promise. You’ve got this.
I glance around my tiny, cluttered apartment, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over me. The thin walls and constant noise have made it impossible to really get any rest. Nights filled with loud music and early mornings with Sara’s cries have left me drained.
More often than not, she and I have fallen asleep in the older rocker recliner that Mom gave me watching Strawberry Shortcake and Tinkerbell DVDs on my computer monitor because I haven’t been able to buy a TV yet.
Me:
I hope so. I guess I’m kind of glad you got your phone back.
Owen:
I’m glad I got it back too, Callie. So glad.
I smile, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. Owen and I text for a little while longer, but for the first time in a while, I feel like things might be looking up. Sure, I still have a lot to figure out, but for tonight, I’ll let myself feel good about this tiny victory.