Thirty-Four
thirty-four
JUST A DREAM - NELLY
OWEN - JULY 10, 2013
I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the conversation with Callie replaying in my mind. Reconnecting with her has been a comfort in a sea of uncertainty. Her news about moving into a new place brings a smile to my face. She deserves a break after everything she’s been through. I just hope this is the beginning of something better for her. Maybe I shouldn’t be so emotionally invested in her but there’s a force there I cannot deny for much longer.
I close my eyes, trying to shake the feeling that’s gnawing at me. Exhaustion from the day seeps into my bones and when I drift off to sleep, thoughts of Callie mix with memories from my past until they all blur together, pulling me under.
Trees loom overhead, their branches forming a canopy as I stand among the towering timbers. The cool air smells of the pine trees that surround me. A wave of déjà vu washes over me, but everything feels much more vivid somehow.
As I walk deeper into the trees, the path becomes clearer, lined with small, delicate flowers that seem to glow in the dim light. I follow the path, my heart pounding with anticipation and fear of the unknown. The sound of a flowing stream reaches my ears, and I feel drawn to it.
I enter a clearing where a small, crystal-clear stream cuts through the farmland. I find my Dream Girl standing near the water’s edge, her dark hair cascading down her back. Her skin glows in the evening sun, making her look like an angel. She turns slowly, and her green eyes lock onto mine as the now familiar hints of purple shimmer in the dim light.
She holds a small red box in her hands. It is intricately decorated with symbols I can’t quite make out. She looks at me with sadness and determination, like she’s frustrated that I haven’t figured out what she’s trying to tell me.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice echoing in the stillness.
She still doesn’t speak, but her eyes convey a depth of emotion that takes my breath away. She steps forward, holding out the box to me. I reach out, my hands trembling, and take it from her. The moment our hands touch, a warmth spreads through me, and the symbols on the box begin to glow faintly.
I open it and find a single, worn paragraph inside. My pulse quickens as I carefully pull it out. The photo is of a family standing in front of a house that feels familiar although I’m certain I’ve never seen it before. The man in the picture looks like an older version of me–almost identical to how my dad looks now. Beside him is an older version of what I can only assume must be her. Both people in the picture are smiling, happiness radiating off of them.
My head is spinning when I look back at her, “Is this us?”
It could be. I feel a surge of emotions–hope, confusion, longing–hit me hard. Somehow, I know the choices I make will shape what comes next for me.
Before I can ask anything else, the dream starts to fade. The timbers and the stream dissolve into a blur of earthy colors, leaving me with only the image of the photograph as everything else slips away.
On Thursday morning, I jolt upright in bed, my heart racing. I try to center myself in the moment and grapple with the fact that it was just a dream. I try to recall as many of the little details about the photo as possible, but aside from the woman’s hair and eye color, the details escape me. The dream felt more vivid, more real, like a force I can’t explain. But somehow, I can never fully picture her face when I am awake. So why did it feel so real?
I scroll back through my conversation with Callie last night and am reminded of a few pictures that should still be in my old phone. With Callie back in my life, the need to end things with Karissa feels more urgent. Regardless of what happens next, I know my feelings for Callie are stronger than they should be for someone in a relationship, and I cannot keep avoiding the inevitable.
I drag myself out of bed to get ready for work, attempting to shake off the lingering thoughts of everything that is going on in my life. I decide I’ll reach out to Karissa at some point today so we can finally have the conversation I’ve been trying to avoid because I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
As I settle into my usual routine at work, my phone pings. Instantly, I find myself hoping it’s a message from Callie. But when I see it isn’t, a wave of disappointment washes over me. Instead, it’s Karissa saying that she needs to talk to me about something and I agree to meet her in the cafeteria for lunch.
When I reach the cafeteria, I find Karissa dressed in her usual pink scrubs–a requirement for the OB department where she works. She sits at our usual table with a bright smile that tells me we may not be on the same page like I had hoped when she texted me with “We need to talk,” vibes earlier.
The hospital cafeteria buzzes with the usual chatter and a part of me hopes it will mask the uneasy conversation I may be on the verge of having with her.
“Hey, babe,” she greets me with a kiss on the cheek as I sit down. The term of endearment catches me off guard–she’s never called me that before.
“Hey,” I reply, trying to shake off lingering thoughts from last night’s dream and Callie. My mind scrambles to keep up, and I can’t help but feel my chest tightening and I pray I can keep my panic at bay. For a moment, I was convinced she was going to end things. But now, I’m not so sure.
Fuck .
Karissa must notice my distraction and gives me a concerned look. I explain I have a lot on my mind, trying to figure out how to handle this. The panic creeps its way up further and I realize I’m not going to be able to do this in the middle of the hospital cafeteria. When she tells me that she wants to take the next step in our relationship, it throws me a bit. We’ve only been dating for a month or so.
“I want to meet your son,” she says, her voice gentle yet firm. “And I’d like you to meet my daughters. We could get them together for a play date if you want.”
I take a deep breath, my mind racing. “Karissa, that’s not where I’m at right now.”
Her smile fades, replaced by a frown. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not ready for you to meet Barrett yet. It’s too soon,” I say, trying to be as gentle as possible. I want to end things with her completely but I can’t bring myself to do it here at work.
Her expression hardens, anger flashing in her eyes. “Too soon? We’ve been dating for a month, Owen. How much longer do you need?”
She’s joking, right?
The knot in my stomach tightens. “I just need to be sure before introducing Barrett to someone new.”
Karissa pushes her chair back abruptly and the harsh screech of the chair legs against the tile floor cuts through the air. “You know what? I’ve got enough on my plate myself and I don’t need to deal with your commitment issues right now.”
“Karissa, wait,” I say, reaching out to her, but she’s already storming off, leaving me sitting there, stunned.
Well, fuck.
I’m not looking forward to cleaning that mess up later.
After work, I meet the guys at the bar and I’m grateful that even Vince is able to come tonight. The familiar environment of Black N’ Gold and the laughter of friends provide a much-needed distraction. We talk about work, sports, and everything in between, the conversation flowing easily.
I’m in the middle of a story about a particularly tricky repair job when my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and see a text from Callie.
Callie:
Hey, you drive a truck, right? You wanna help a pregnant bitch move this weekend?
I chuckle at her crassness. Callie sure has a way with words. Excusing myself, I step out onto the patio. Without giving it much thought, I dial her number. It’s time we actually spoke on the phone.
The fact that I’ve had a few beers is probably giving me a little liquid courage.
The phone rings a few times before she picks up. “Hello?”
“Hey, Callie,” I say, a smile spreading across my face. “So, you need help moving, huh?”
There’s a pause, and then I hear her laugh. “Yeah, I do. Didn’t expect you to call, though.”
“Figured it was about time we talked,” I reply. “Plus, I couldn’t resist the chance to hear your voice.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
“Well, here it is,” she says, a hint of amusement in her tone. “So, are you free this weekend?”
“I can make some time,” I say, wondering why I didn’t offer yesterday when we spoke. “I’d be happy to help.”
“Great,” she says. “I really appreciate it, Owen.”
“No problem at all,” I assure her. “So, what’s the plan?”
We spend the next few minutes discussing the logistics of the move. It feels good to hear her voice, to connect on a level beyond texts. By the time we hang up, I’m looking forward to the weekend.
I head back inside the bar, rejoining Will, Luke, and Vince at our table. The noise of the bar and the laughter of my friends providing a comforting backdrop as I slide back into my seat.
“Who was that?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Callie,” I say, taking a sip of my beer as if my heart isn’t pounding in my chest. “She needs help moving this weekend, so I’m going to head up to Hawkridge after work tomorrow to give her a hand.”
“Hawkridge? That’s a bit of a drive,” Luke remarks, leaning back in his chair. “You must really like this girl.”
“You sure it’s just a hand you’re going to give her,” Vince chimes, taking a pull from his beer and trying to hide his smile.
“She’s a friend,” I say, shooting a glare Vince’s way. “Plus, she’s pregnant and doesn’t have anyone else to help her out. It’s not a big deal. ”
Vince smirks, nudging Luke. “Yeah, just a friend. Sure.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile that forms on my lips. “Seriously, guys. She’s a good friend, and she needs help.”
Will nods, giving me a more serious look. “Well, it’s good of you to help her out.”
“How much help does she need?” Luke asks with a wink. “I know a few good men that could also help her, if you know what I mean.”
“Luke,” I say through gritted teeth, “Not. Fucking. Cool.”
Luke throws his hands up in mock innocence. “I’m kidding!”
Will attempts to relieve the sudden tension between Luke and me. “Just make sure you don’t overdo it. Moving is a pain in the ass.”
“I know,” I say. “But it’s worth it to see her settled in a new place. She’s had a rough time lately, and she deserves a fresh start.”
Luke clinks his beer bottle against mine. “To fresh starts, then. And to good friends.”
We raise our drinks, the mood lightening again. As we talk and laugh, I can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation for the weekend. Helping Callie move might just be the start of something new for both of us.
“So, how did you end up reconnecting with Callie?” Vince asks, leaning forward with interest. “Last I knew, you hadn’t talked to her in a while and started dating Karissa. I’m so out of the loop, man.”
“Pulling double shifts constantly will do that to you,” I remind him.
I take another sip of my beer, stalling as I gather my thoughts. My mind is racing, trying to find a way to answer Will’s question without overcomplicating things. “I lost my phone a few weeks ago,” I finally say, my voice steady, “and just got it back. She was one of the first people I reached out to when I got it back. We’ve been texting since.”
Will raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying my casual tone. “Did you ever actually get her last name?”
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. Fuck. My stomach drops. How the hell did I never think to ask her that? We’ve been talking non-stop, like old friends who’ve known each other for years. But somehow, the basics got lost in all of it. “No…” I admit, dragging the word out as if speaking slowly will lessen the sting of the realization. How could I have been so careless?
I pull my phone out of my pocket, feeling an unsettling mix of embarrassment and disbelief. I’ve been so caught up in everything else—our conversations, the ease of falling back into talking to her—that I missed something this obvious. My fingers hover over the screen as I notice a new notification. It’s from Callie, with the address of her new house. Perfect timing.
I force myself to focus. I can’t let this slip through the cracks again. Time to ask the awkward question.
Me:
So, I have an awkward question…
As soon as I hit send, my nerves spike. Is this really awkward? Or am I making it weird? I glance around the bar, trying to distract myself from the sudden anxious feeling in my chest. Maybe she won’t even care. It’s not like I’ve known her for years… except it kind of feels like I have.
The screen lights up almost immediately, and her reply pops up.
Callie:
Oh God.
Me:
Callie… What's your last name? You never told me.
Why does this feel so big? It’s not like knowing her last name changes anything. But at the same time, it kind of does. It’s another step. Something deeper. Something about getting this answer feels like the next level—like I'm finally closing the gap between the girl I used to text and the real person she is now.
Her response comes with a playful edge, and I can’t help but smile. She’s always been quick with the jokes.
Callie:
Oh my god! You’re right! I guess that should have been one of your questions early on. LOL!
Me:
So…?
Callie:
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.
Me:
Klein. Your turn.
My thumb hovers over the send button, and for a split second, I wonder what she’s thinking on the other side of the phone. Does she feel this same pull? Or is it just me? God, maybe I’m reading too much into everything.
The text bubbles pop up, and the anticipation makes my chest tighten. Here it is.
Callie:
It’s Madden.
Well, it will be Madden again. Legally, it’s Graham right now. But it won’t be once my divorce is finalized.
Me:
It’s nice to meet you, Callie Madden.
As I send the last message, a smile tugs at my lips. The name suits her. And while this whole conversation might seem small, it feels like another brick in the foundation of something I can’t quite define yet. But I want to find out.
As I drive to Hawkridge, every mile feels longer than the last, anticipation building with every turn. It’s like the universe decided to make this trip twice as long just for shits and giggles. Thanks, universe.
Today is a fresh start for Callie and I cannot help but wish it was a fresh start for me too. I want to be there for her in any way I can. I tell myself that it’s just about helping a friend, but I know I’m lying to myself. There’s this nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, I’m not ready for what this weekend might mean.
I try to focus on the road, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Karissa. Why didn’t I end things with her before I left? Maybe the hospital cafeteria wasn’t the right place but I could have done it after work before meeting up with the guys. I’m just delaying the inevitable but I don’t want to be the asshole who breaks up over text.
I should’ve gone to see Karissa first, cleared the air before driving out here. But no, that’s too reasonable, Owen. Good job. Now I’m heading to Callie’s like I don’t have another loose end trailing behind me, waiting to turn into a disaster.
The irony’s not lost on me. Here I am, heading to help a woman who’s moving on from her past, while I can’t even properly disentangle myself from my present.
As I finally pull into her driveway, I cut the engine and just sit there for a second. The sound of silence fills the truck, broken only by the low hum of the cooling engine. This is it. I take a deep breath, but it gets caught halfway down, nerves tightening my chest. It’s excitement laced with uncertainty, like I’m standing on the edge of something big, and I don’t know if I’m about to step forward or fall flat on my face.
As I step out of the truck, the cool air hits me, and for a moment, I stand there, taking it all in. The house, the driveway, the yard—everything feels so... still. Like the calm before a storm. Maybe it is.
I’m about to take a step toward the house when I see it—the door on the side of the house starts to open. I freeze, caught mid-step like a deer in headlights. My heart skips a beat, my mind running a thousand miles an hour. Is it Callie? What the hell do I even say when I see her?
It’s been so easy to talk over text, but seeing her face-to-face? That’s something else entirely. And part of me, the part I’ve been trying to ignore, wonders what happens after this. What does this mean for us? For me?
The door creaks open a little further, and I feel like time has slowed down again. I take a deep breath, nerves twisting in my gut. This is it. I just hope I don’t fuck it up somehow. Whether we eventually become more than friends or not, I just know I can’t lose her again.