Forty-Four
forty-four
LOVE YOU MADLY - CAKE
OWEN - JULY 25, 2013
T he day has been a restless blur, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation I can’t shake. No matter how hard I try to focus at work, my mind keeps drifting back to Callie—her voice from this morning, soft and sleepy, still clings to me like a warm, comforting echo.
During my break, I stumble across a song I haven’t heard in years: Love You Madly by Cake. The upbeat rhythm, the playful lyrics—it fits how I feel when I think of Callie. Without overthinking it, I send her the link. It’s not a grand gesture, but it says what I can’t put into words right now.
Me:
Made me think of you.
As my shift drags on, I find myself checking my phone more often than I’d like to admit, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. That nagging doubt creeps in—did I overstep? Maybe she didn’t like the song, or worse, maybe I’m reading too much into this.
Just as my nerves are about to get the best of me, my phone buzzes with a message from her. It's like she could feel me spiraling, right when I needed her most. The timing is uncanny, as if she knew I couldn't stop thinking about her, even from miles away.
Callie:
Sorry, I’ve been swamped! I’ll listen to it as soon as I get the chance. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!
I head home and settle onto the couch, trying to distract myself with some mindless TV. But the restlessness won’t let up, so I shoot a text to the group chat, hoping the guys will pull me out of my head for a while.
Me:
We need to plan something soon.
Will:
Down. Been too long.
Luke:
As long as it doesn’t involve Vince’s terrible idea of karaoke night again, I’m in.
Vince:
You say that like you didn’t have a blast. My rendition of Livin’ on a Prayer was fucking legendary.
I chuckle, shaking my head as I picture Vince, microphone in hand, belting out the lyrics with all the enthusiasm in the world and none of the talent. The memory makes me smile, the tension easing a bit.
Me:
Legendary? More like nightmare fuel.
Will:
Still trying to scrub it from my brain, man.
Me:
The trauma is real.
I laugh out loud, the sound filling the quiet room. These guys always know how to lift my spirits, even when I don’t realize I need it.
Luke:
Speaking of things to forget, Heather wants to drag me to one of those paint-and-sip things this weekend. Wine, painting, and her friends–send help.
Will:
Dude, it’s not that bad. You get to drink, and the painting is just part of the background noise.
Vince:
Plus, if it makes Heather happy, that’s all that matters, right? I would much rather do something like that with Zoe than some of the other shit she insists on–specifically anything that will be a giant pain in the ass.
Luke:
Yeah, yeah. I know. She’s into it, so I’ll suffer through it. But seriously, if you don’t hear from me after Saturday, send a search party. Because I might go insane.
Me:
Are you honestly saying you’re going to go insane surrounded by the number of women that are bound to be at that thing?
Vince:
Ha! He’s gotcha there, bro.
Luke:
Point taken.
I grin, knowing Luke’s just putting on a show. At this point, I’m pretty sure he’d do anything for Heather, even if it means pretending to enjoy an evening of wine and awkward painting. And it’s in that moment, hearing Luke talk about his plans with Heather, that I realize I’ve been holding back with the guys.
Me:
I get it, man. I’d do the same for Callie if she asked me to. Honestly, I’ve been falling hard for her. Like, harder than I ever thought I would.
Vince:
I’m looking forward to meeting her tomorrow.
Will:
Wait… Have you told anyone in the family that you’re dating a pregnant woman?
Luke:
God, I would pay to be a fly on the wall at that little get-together. Wrong side of the family, though.
Me:
Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. But at this point, I kind of can’t wait to see the look on everyone’s face. And I mean… It is a public place. If you guys want to go to Cedar Bluff tomorrow and meet my girlfriend, then I’m not stopping you.
In response, Vince sends a Celebrate good times, come on! GIF and I nearly howl with laughter.
Will:
About time you found someone who makes you feel that way. Just don’t screw it up by singing to her.
I laugh again, feeling a weight lift off my chest. Their jokes are exactly what I need, but their support means even more.
Me:
Yeah, she’s amazing. I just don’t want to mess this up.
Vince:
Or, you know, don’t. Seriously man, you got this.
As the conversation peters out, I set my phone down, trying to focus on the TV again. But nothing holds my interest. The anticipation of seeing Callie tomorrow is like a current running through me, impossible to ignore, and every time I close my eyes, I see her smile, hear the softness in her voice.
By the time the late afternoon sun starts casting long shadows across the room, my phone buzzes again. I glance down, half expecting more nonsense from the guys when I see Callie’s name on the screen.
Callie:
Hey, handsome! I’m finally off work. What are you up to?
A slow grin spreads across my face, the kind that starts in my chest and works its way up, warming me from the inside out. I quickly type out a response, my fingers moving faster than my thoughts.
Me:
Not much, just hanging out. Why, what’s up?
Callie:
Just curious. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve been thinking about it all day.
That was a great song, by the way. I had never heard it before.
Me:
I’m glad you liked it.
Callie:
Love it.
Me:
Oh yeah?
There’s something about waiting for her reply that fills me with sweet, almost unbearable anticipation. The seconds tick by, each stretching out, making the silence between us feel tantalizing and torturous. I keep my phone in hand, the screen lighting up briefly before fading back into darkness, mirroring the way my thoughts flicker between excitement and uncertainty.
She doesn’t reply right away, and I try to convince myself that it’s because she’s busy—probably picking up Sara from her mom’s or maybe caught up in some last-minute task. Still, that little seed of doubt lingers, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. I try to shake it off, reminding myself that she has a life too, and it doesn’t revolve around our every text.
To distract myself, I decide to order a ham and pineapple pizza. I pull up the app, my fingers moving automatically through the motions of placing the order, but my mind is still on Callie. The thought of seeing her tomorrow both excites and unsettles me in a way I haven’t felt in years.
The doorbell rings earlier than expected. I glance at my watch—definitely too fast for the pizza. Shrugging, I grab some cash and head to the door, my mind still half-occupied with thoughts of tomorrow and Callie. But as soon as I swing it open, the air catches in my lungs.
It’s not the pizza guy.