Chapter 14 #2
“Finally, the day of the party this past weekend he just lost it and basically marched down to the café and stole the chair in broad daylight, right in front of the patrons and staff. I’m surprised there hasn’t been more about it in the news.”
I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. Words and images are streaming through my head, but none are fitting together.
“Luke… stole a chair. A cheap café chair?”
It doesn’t make any more sense out loud.
I rest my elbows on my knees, my eyes locked in a perplexed stare on the coffee table.
More images are rushing in. Memories. Nightmares.
And the biggest of all I still can’t answer: Why here? Why a chair in this city ?
“Yep. Just a chair. He was obsessed with it before he stole it.”
My head moves in absent arcs. “And now what? What does he do with it? I don’t remember seeing it.”
“He keeps it in his office and sits in it.”
“And does what ?” I return, frustration mounting.
Just when I thought we were finally putting the pieces together…
There’s a stolen diner chair in the office.
She seems unfazed by any of this. In fact, she seems more upset that I’m upset than the fact that our friend has traded iconic musician for furniture thief.
“Nothing. He just sits there. That’s where I found him yesterday when he finally broke down.”
More pieces snap into place, but the result is even more baffling. More infuriating, because the most important parts are still missing. We have everything except the key to unlocking this entire situation. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do anything without that key.
I need to get it. It’s time to have it out with him once and for all. No lies, no games, no coddling. Just brother-to-brother, soul-to-soul.
“What are you doing?” Callie asks when I push to my feet.
“Going to find out what the hell is going on.”
She grabs my arm with an urgency that stops me cold.
“No, you can’t.” Her eyes are pleading.
“I can’t ? You’re telling me my unstable friend has some kind of obsessive relationship with a piece of furniture, and I shouldn’t go try to find out why?”
She nods and tugs my arm. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. It’s not just a chair. It’s something else, and he’s not ready. If you barge in there now and attack him, you’re going to undo everything we’ve done!”
I rip my arm away, feeling completely lost. Fingers laced above my head, I pace along the length of the couch, breathing hard.
I respect her. I trust her. But this is… How can leaving him alone with a chair be the best thing for him?
He went home to meet with fucking lawyers!
Callie grasps my arm and drags me toward the couch.
“Please, Casey. I’m asking you to let it go,” she begs. “Not forever, just for now, okay? Let him have this. I’m telling you, he needs this.”
She frames my face and digs her gaze into mine until she’s the only thing I comprehend.
“Can you just trust me?”
The longer I get lost in the hazel pools of compassion, the more the storm settles.
A tortured exhale expels from my lungs .
“This is crazy. I mean, he’s always been odd, but a chair?”
“I don’t know what the chair means, but I know it’s significant. He’ll let us in when he’s ready.”
“And until then?”
“Until then, we keep fighting for the small stuff.”
Fighting for the small stuff…
A smile cracks my heavy cloud.
“What?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
I bite back the humor as it tries to poke through. “Nothing. Just you.”
“Me? What about me?” She crosses her arms with a stern look.
“You’re like a cross between a motivational poster and a shrink. And my mom.”
Her eyes widen as she coughs out a laugh. “Your mom? Really? You made out with me—twice—and I remind you of your mom?”
Three times, but there’s no way I’m pointing that out when she’s already taking swings at me.
Literally.
I duck as an arm comes flying at my chest and hold up my hands. “I don’t know! You’re always yelling at me!”
“Ha! I do not!”
“I don’t eat enough vegetables. You don’t like my clothes. I’m too mean to Luke…”
But instead of snapping back, she loops her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder. Our hands intertwine and we sit in silence while she traces the tattoos on my fingers.
I don’t know what to make of the vibe, but I like it. Not heavy and draining, but not fluffy and light either. It’s somewhere in between.
Somewhere pretty near perfect.
“You’re thinking about my mom now, aren’t you?” I ask when I see the pensive expression on her face .
“Maybe. What’s she like?”
Well, that’s a complicated question, but I think I’m ready to explore the hard ones with her.
Over the next hour, we plunge into the difficult topics of our lives.
I tell her about my dysfunctional family. A perfect facade on the outside, but rotted on the inside. My father didn’t like a lot of his children’s choices, but he hated mine the most and made sure everyone knew it. Especially me.
Her parents were no better. I learn about her absent mom and opportunistic dad.
Her short description makes me want to march to Shelteron and introduce that man to my fist, but even he gets bumped down my hit list when she tells me about her asshole former employer.
I’ve never wanted to destroy someone as much as I want to annihilate the sick bastard who hurt her.
She tries to laugh it off, but I see through it. I do the same with my own trauma. Wrap it up with a neat little joke or two until I can share it in a way that makes it more comfortable for others.
“So that’s pretty much it,” she says with a shrug. “I came here, not to make a name for myself in lights, but to disappear. I wasn’t running to anything, just running from , and have basically been trying to figure things out ever since.”
She goes quiet, and I sense there’s more to this. Maybe it’s the key to her story.
“When I say ‘I’m no one’ it’s not even about self-esteem,” she continues quietly.
“I just don’t know who I am, what I am. I don’t know where I’m going or what I want from life.
I just knew I didn’t want to be the slut from the grocery store.
Or Kyle and Nora’s daughter. I wanted to be no one, so I could start fresh and hopefully be someone else one day. ”
Her words hit hard. I think back to what Luke said about Callie being as lost as we are. Needing purpose and direction. He was right on with that analysis, and probably didn’t even know how close he was to the truth.
“What happened to you isn’t right and I’m glad you got some retribution, even though I wish that bastard would have gotten jail time instead,” I say, still working through my thoughts.
“ But…” she drags out.
I shoot her a look. “How do you know there’s a but?”
“It’s all over your face.”
Great, so she even understands the things I’m not saying.
“No, not so much a ‘but’ as a caution about the ending of your story.”
She lifts a brow. “Oh, you don’t like the ending.”
“No. I don’t. You make it sound like your value is in your identity, and your identity is something that doesn’t exist unless it’s concrete.”
“Concrete?”
“Definable. I don’t like you defining yourself by what you’re not, and therefore concluding you’re no one. What about what you are?”
“What I am?”
It feels like we’re on the precipice of something.
“Your identity shouldn’t be an occupation or a status. Hell, it’s not even dreams and aspirations. Those things will flow out of who you are once you embrace it. You have to stop looking at what’s missing and focus on what’s here.”
She returns a sly smile. “Now who’s a walking motivational poster.”
She’s not wrong, but we’re also not as different as she thinks. In some ways, at some basic level, we’re all the same. We all need to believe that we matter.
“Well, you need to hear it, that’s all,” I say.
“You know why I’m here? Because when I was sixteen, Elena Barrett told me that our dad was a liar.
That I wasn’t a worthless piece-of-shit just because I didn’t meet his expectations.
That I was smart, and caring, and a talented musician.
And even though I was just a kid fooling around with drums in a stupid band with my friend Luke, it was important because I loved it. ”
“You found something you love, Casey. Do you have any idea how incredible that is? No matter what happens, promise me you will never give it up. I don’t care if you’re playing in a basement for yourself or on a stage for millions. I just need you to play and stay passionate.”
Ten years later, I’m still playing. Against the odds. Against all the forces that tried to stand in my way, Elena’s words drove me against the tide. Maybe Callie never had an Elena to push her in the right direction, but she does now.
“That’s why I’m here, Callie,” I say in an earnest voice.
I search her eyes, fighting for her the way my sister fought for me.
“Because she told me what I was when everyone else in my life was telling me what I wasn’t.
Once I started focusing on what I was instead, that’s where my identity came from, my dreams, the drive. ”
“It all starts with believing in yourself,” she recites in a droll tone.
I squint in frustration. Not at her. Just at our world that is so quick to define and lock people in boxes until they trap themselves.
“No, that’s a lie. It starts with accepting yourself. You can’t believe in what you don’t understand. And if you’re still telling people you’re no one, then you don’t understand yet.”
She goes quiet, but I see her mind working. All I can do is hope that some of this is getting through. Because it would be a terrible tragedy if her beautiful light flickered out because she never understood how brightly it shines.
“Can we work on our song again?” she asks in a tentative voice .
My heart soars. No other response would mean more to me.
“Which one?” I ask.
She sucks in a breath. “What do you mean?”
Time to show her what a beacon she is.
“Fire up that laptop.”