4. Callie
Callie
FRIDAY, AUGUST 15TH
E very time I think this town can’t get any prettier, it’s like it tells me, “hold my beer.”
For example, this morning I’m sitting in my classroom before school starts, just staring out the window at the freshly cut grass that has no business being so green this late in the season. Then a knock at my door announces Coach Finnegan.
Let me just tell you, he is definitely an upgrade in terms of scenery. Thank you, Tuft Swallow!
But a stern expression is on his face as he crosses his muscular arms, causing the oversized sweatshirt he’s wearing to bunch up. In front of him stands one of Herman’s abductors (or attempted abductors, I guess) looking like she’d rather take a hamster claw to the eye than be here.
“Excuse us, Ms…” He looks at me to fill in the blank.
“Stavropoulos,” I supply.
“Stav…what is it again?”
I offer a smile. “Miss Callie is fine.”
He nods and clears his throat, which elicits an eye roll and a mumbled, “sorry,” from the girl.
“Try again,” he says firmly.
You can boss me around like that any time, Coach.
Not now, inner dialogue, that is so inappropriate!
But the student is not nearly as enamored with him as I am and she fires off a glare in his direction that holds the angst of a thousand pre-teen girls. “I said I was sorry,” she snaps.
“Try saying it so that people can actually hear you,” he retorts.
“I don’t even want to be here!”
“Alexis!”
I may not have known my own dad for too long but I am very well-versed in TV-dad-speak and watching this argument play out, it clicks. Alexis, here, is the coach’s daughter.
After a dramatic sigh and shoulder drop, she turns to me and plasters on a fake smile. “I. Am. So. Sorry. About. Your. Weird. Rodent.”
She doesn’t even give me a chance to reply before she spins on her heel and storms out of the room.
“We are not done here, young lady!” Finn calls out to her.
Oh yeah, he is prime time TV dad right now. And the fact that it makes him more attractive to me is definitely something I’ll see a therapist for.
He looks a little helpless before he seems to remember he’s not allowed to have emotions. “I’m really sorry about…well…the last 24 hours.”
Warmth fills my chest for him and I fight the urge to give him a hug. Single parents have it rough.
Yes, I did confirm he was single. With more than one source here at the school and in town. No reason.
I switch into middle school teacher mode. “She’s what, twelve or thirteen?”
“Twelve. Going on twenty-five.”
Classic TV dad line.
“Can I offer a little bit of advice as a recovering twelve-year-old girl myself?”
“Dear god, yes please,” he exhales and drops his head. “She’s killing me.”
“Kids this age are stuck in perpetual awkwardness. Their bodies are changing, their hormones are flying, and they’re being told that they’re both children and young adults at the same time. It can be a very scary place and sometimes all they really need is to know what your boundaries are and that you love them.”
“She pushes every boundary I set, every chance she gets.”
“Sounds about right,” I smile. “But trust me, the structure is a comfort to her. She’ll push because she’s trying to find her way, but her knowing you’re there is what will keep her from spiraling out.”
He offers me a meager smile and nods a little. “Wow, that’s some pretty sage advice for this early in the morning.”
“Well, I hope it helps.”
He studies me for a moment. “I bet you gave your dad absolute hell, didn’t you?”
“Oh, 100%,” I lie.
“But you guys got through it?”
I fight the lump forming in my throat. “I talk to him all the time.” Of course he doesn’t talk back, on account of the whole “being dead” thing.
“I take it Herman has recovered from his little adventure yesterday?”
“Yes! Thank you again. He’s still coming down from the adrenaline rush,” I reply, grateful for the change in conversation.
A low chuckle rumbles from Finn’s chest and I’m a little too giddy that I got a genuine full smile out of him.
“So are you just a collector of rodents or is two your limit?” he asks.
“Two?” I gasp. “Are you talking about Fettuccini? My sweet, perfect Fettuccini?”
He looks genuinely confused.
“I’ll have you know, Coach Finnegan, that Fettuccini Alfredo Souvlaki the Third is a ferret, and ferrets are weasels, not rodents.”
At this, he chuckles again and holds his hands out in surrender. “I’m so ignorant, I had no idea.”
“Well, just be glad he wasn’t here to hear that, or he’d steal your keys and one of your socks. He wouldn’t speak to you for weeks.”
“God, please don’t tell him. I don’t want things to be weird at Christmas dinner.”
Now I’m laughing and feeling all kinds of things I shouldn’t be feeling around a single dad. Or a coworker.
We stare at each other and I can’t be the only one seeing lightning bolts, right? But the first bell rings out, letting us all know that the students are about to enter the building…which results in all sexual tension abruptly leaving the room.
“Thank you for asking Alexis to apologize,” I say as Finn starts to walk out.
“Thank you for accepting it,” he replies. “And for the advice. That was…unexpected. But I needed it.”
I’m not sure if he means “unexpected” as in he didn’t plan on hearing it or “unexpected” as in he didn’t think a woman with fluorescent hair would be capable of advising. But the fact that he says he needed it is enough for me either way.