19. Grown men cry
CHAPTER 19
Grown men cry
CALUM
I wake up with a thundering headache. One eye opens, and I shut it immediately. Who is breaking things inside my head? Blindly reaching for a pillow, I place it over my head.
Something nudges my foot. “Cal? Calum?”
I steal a peek at the person. Only that there are two people. Green and hazel eyes peer down at me. They look worried. Did something bad happen? Hazel Eyes stretches a glass of water to me, and Green Eyes hands over the pills. I gulp the water first, then take the pills. They sit at the foot of my bed. Sam is the quiet one, nothing surprising, but Lucas is a different story.
Only now, he’s quiet.
“Why are you guys acting weird?” I ask.
The animals in my head hammer away at my skull. I sneak under the covers and pull it to my chest. The drugs might take a while to work. This is why I shouldn’t drink. My body loathes it. Wait, was I drinking? Sketchy memories follow. I wince. Yeah, I drank and got wasted.
“We wanted to check on you,” Lucas says. I snort and push myself up until my back rests against the velvety headboard. My man is out here openly being bothered. “You good?”
“Na, I’m not good,” I reply. A yawn leaves my lips as my hands stretch and connect with the floating wall behind the headboard. “You’re being weird. Two of you, especially you, Luc.”
They share a glance. Lucas smiles but keeps shut. Sam points over his shoulder, and they rise.
What are they on?
“We will get going,” Sam says. Lucas nods in agreement and pats my foot. “Get some sleep, and we will ask someone to bring in your lunch. Just stay inside. Don’t do anything. Okay?”
“Okay…” I reply.
When they leave, I pick up my phone on the bedside console table. We have been friends for a long time, but that counts as our weirdest interaction. I check my messages. There are a few from Mum. Since hers is at the top, I open it, and my lips quirk in a smile. The last six are pictures, so I begin with the texts. She got in contact with Pete and collected Cathie’s address.
So fast? I need something more. I call Mum immediately. The pounding in my head worsens as the phone rings. I should listen to the boys and get more sleep. Mum picks up. She asks if I viewed the pictures. I reply in the negative and redirect the conversation to her first message.
“Thanks for the address. But did he give you her number?” I ask.
“No,” Mum mutters. “Pete didn’t give me anything else. He said you must go to her house to talk to her. It must be a physical conversation, not a call. He emphasised on that. It sounded urgent. So, go when you can. Cathie will be home today and maybe the whole of tomorrow.”
“All right. Thanks, Mum.”
“I love you,” she says.
“Me too. Bye.”
My eyes grow heavier. Pulling the phone away from my ear feels like a herculean task. I toss the phone on the bed and drop my head to the pillow. Thoughts and memories rush through my head, moving at a pace faster than I can control. My eyes close. When I come to be, the pounding in my head has reduced. After a shower and a change of clothes, I grab my phone.
What pictures was Mum talking about?
It’s two minutes past four, and my stomach grumbles to announce a lack of food. I stumble out of my room. Passing through doors, I find my way to the dining room. Sam and Lucas are already there. Their plates are empty, but they are too engrossed in their phones to notice. Like our rooms, the walls are grey with abstract portraits hanging on them. I drag one chair and sit.
“Hey, bro,” Lucas murmurs. He gives my shoulder a squeeze. His concern makes me want to run back to my room and hide. It’s odd. “We checked in minutes ago. You were still asleep.”
“It’s all good,” I answer. Sam pats my knee and smiles. Weird. I must have done something stupid. I hope Lucas didn’t record me, or I’ll never hear the end of it. “What are we having?”
“Food,” Lucas says. At least he didn’t lose his sense of humour. “What’s up with you?”
A white lace covers the table. I drag my fingertips across the corners of the table mat and shrug. My phone is open to the pictures from Mum. They look like emails, but I’ll have to zoom in for a closer view. Mum’s text before the pictures says: I should have shown you this earlier. I’m sorry.
Her apology motivated me to check the pictures. But the hunger is greater than my curiosity. I drop the phone on the table when my meal arrives, courtesy of a male who doesn’t speak. He sweeps the empty plates off the table and leaves. The boys stay with me. I can’t help this pressure building in my chest. They are good people. We care about each other, but we don’t overly show it.
The roast beef melts in my mouth, and a burst of flavours explodes on my tongue. Has Cathie got better at cooking? She wouldn’t have to worry about it, anyway. I’ll do the cooking, and we will also have chefs on our payroll.
An image flashes in my head, and my fork clatters to the table. My head throbs from trying to remember last night’s details, but the voice in my head, echoing the words: Don’t touch me , belongs to Cathie. Fuck. She didn’t want me to touch her, and she left with the guitar guy.
Is he Papa Mace?
My hand tightens around the glass. I gulp half its content and drop it on the table. Two pairs of eyes bore into me as I pick up my fork to resume eating. The beef has lost taste, but I force more of it into my mouth, taking a sip of water every few seconds to fill my belly faster. All done, I push the plate aside. Pete wanted me to go to her house. I unlock my phone and zoom in on the first picture Mum sent. My heart climbs up to my throat as I skim the first few lines.
Hey baby
It’s me, Cathie. Your superstar. Do you remember when you gave me that name or called me your baby? Well, your baby misses you.
Tears burn the back of my eyes. Of course I do. We were in Mum’s car after hanging out at TTTT. The details of that day are foggy, but not that moment. I read the entire email, then swipe to the next picture. It’s a screenshot of another email with the subject: Letters to my love.
Emails under this subject have days. Day 1. Day 2. Up until Day 29. She was counting. She was waiting for me. But I never showed up. That explains her anger, but I can fix it. She will understand. My fingers vibrate as I swipe to the last picture, and my world crashes over me.
It is over for us now, Superstar. It is time for us to move on. You can stop trying.
No. I reread the email on my screen like it will change the outcome. That was from me to her. How? I never sent that. I would never. I swipe again, hoping for another picture to prove this is a prank. But that’s the last. The phone slips to the table. I bury my face in my hands and scream. She must know it wasn’t me, right? I shoot out of my chair, and it collapses to the floor.
Rage clouds my vision, and hurt builds to a boiling point. I grab the object nearest to me and haul it against the wall, numb to the echoes as it makes contact and shatters to the floor.
“Fuck,” two people chorus behind me.
The red blinding me clears slowly. Lucas appears stunned. Sam is pale. I follow their gazes to the broken pieces of the plate I used for lunch on the floor. My heart is more broken than that.
Mum’s apology makes sense now. Why would she do that to me? To us ?
Emotions tumble over me. Cathie needs to know the truth. I ignore the mess and start for the door. Sam and Lucas are faster. They block my way out. They must think me crazy. Maybe I am.
“Out of my fucking way,” I bark at them. Lucas is taller by a few inches, and he straightens up to his full height. Sam is about the same height and bulkier. It will be a lost battle. I sigh. “Look. Mum sent me Superstar’s address. I’ll go check out the place and talk to her.”
Lucas shakes his head. It’s rare to see him so serious, but that has been his expression since I woke up. Do they know? “No. You’re not going anywhere, Cal. You need to stay low.”
“I agree,” Sam says.
Fine. I shove my phone into my pocket, take a few steps back, then charge towards them. I’m not thinking anymore. I don’t know what’s appropriate or not. Cathie needs to know it wasn’t me. The boys push me back, but that doesn’t deter me. I bolt in their direction a second time.
“Stop it. Stop that fucking shit. You should have seen yourself last night. You were crying like a baby. Muttering nonsense in your sleep,” Lucas says. “You had all of us worried, Cal.”
I smirk. “Good thing I don’t remember.”
Hazel eyes harden with an unfamiliar seriousness. Was it really that horrible?
“This is not a joke, Calum,” Lucas says.
“What do you care, Lucas?” I fire back with the same amount of annoyance taking over my voice. Folding my arms across my chest, I focus only on his hazel eyes. Cathie has a child. She replaced me with someone who also plays the guitar. “You predicted she would have moved on, and it looks like you were right. What do I owe you? Ten, twenty bucks?”
My shoulders sag. My heartache rolls out in the form of hot tears down my cheeks. I don’t care anymore. I want to see her. Maybe that guy is not her boyfriend. But it’s been months.
“Look, guys,” I breathe, swiping at my cheeks. I need to stop with the tears. “Give me an hour or two or three. If you don’t find me, you can bundle me or whatever. But I need to go.”
Sam sighs. Lucas runs a hand through his face. They share a glance, communicate silently, and he stretches his hand to me. “Your phone.” I hand it over. Anything to get me out of here. Cathie needs to hear my side of the story. It was not me. I want her. He types in a few words, then returns it. “I’ve just shared your location with us. Be safe, man. No more breakdowns.”
A ghost of a smile flies across my lips as soon as the words leave Lucas. I must have terrified him if he’s this riled up.
“I’ll try,” I murmur.
They give my shoulders a squeeze and part for me to exit. I backtrack to my room and grab my wallet and sunglasses. There’s no time for a disguise. Plus, we are bigger in New York.
Mum calls on my way out, and my finger automatically hits the decline button. How could she? What excuse or explanation can she possibly give to fix this? My phone rings again. I put it on silent mode and slide it into my pocket. She has done her best. It’s time for me to do mine.
Out there in the cold, my teeth chatter. When I’m finally in the backseat of a cab, I remember I could have called Caleb to send his driver. But it was only seventeen minutes in the cold.
Doubts build the further the car drives, and I retrieve my phone. There are missed calls and messages from Mum. I read them with a sad smile. She has caused me so much pain within a year. I’m mentally exhausted. I want to stop fighting. But how can I when she does things like this? Why’s she just showing me the pictures? She didn’t talk to me for seven months.
Ma: I take it you’ve seen the pictures.
Ma : I thought I was doing the right thing.
Ma: I’m sorry
Ma: Take all the time you need away from me and we can talk later?
Me: How could you?
Without waiting for her response, I tuck the phone into my jacket pocket. My fingers tap on my knees. I don’t know if I’m anxious because of Mum’s texts or from the fact I’ll be seeing Cathie in a few minutes. What if it’s too late for an explanation? If she’s married with a kid, what next? My fingers flex to ease some of the tension. I’m going to see my superstar, and I’m wearing sweatpants and an old blue T-shirt. I pinch the collar of my shirt. Is that a stain?
The driver tries to chat, but I’m too nervous to reply with more than one word. He grows tired of trying. The car slows when we arrive at a new street. Tall houses sit in the same rows. It’s different from Wells Spring. Quieter. I sit up, my body the same weight as a wet bag of sand.
“What number?” the driver asks. I tell him, and he hums in reply.
As the car drives down the wet asphalt, my anxiety triples. I bite the inside of my cheek. What will she say? Will she give me a listening ear? Couldn’t she read between the lines?
What lines?
The email was three lines long. God. I run my palms over my face, and my eyes sting from the sweat that creeps into them. The car stops. What do I do if she refuses to acknowledge me? How do I get her to listen or hear my side of the story? I don’t have a backup plan.
“We are here,” the driver murmurs.
I peer out the window facing her house, and my heart thuds. According to Cathie, this would be a single-storey building since they don’t count from the first floor, but in the US, it would be a double-storey. I retrieve a note from my wallet and slap it gently on the middle console.
My eyes don’t leave the front door. There’s a small fence surrounding the house. I can jump over it. A car sits in front of the house. Another is outside the fence. At my request, the driver reverses to avoid attention to our position while keeping the house within a visible distance.
Shaking the fear off me, I reach for the lock inside the car. It’s time.
Fate must have been at work. I open the door of the backseat at the same time Cathie’s front door opens. A man steps out first.
The guitar guy.
My breath catches. What if Superstar has moved on? A woman with long black hair follows behind the guitar guy to lock the door. It takes only her side view for me to identify her. My superstar. My baby. Her back is to me, but when she turns around, she’s hugging a baby to her chest. My breath ceases completely. I shut the door of the backseat without getting out.
She has a kid.
She has a baby. I guessed Mace was a real person, but seeing the child is… something.
Sweat rolls down my temples. The speech I didn’t know I was going to say evaporates from my head. The man offers a speech that makes Cathie laugh. That is—was my job. They head to the blue car parked outside the fence, and I slide down my seat. He opens the backdoor for her to drop the kid. After that, he opens the front door. She doesn’t enter immediately. Eyes locked, they share a moment of silence. Whatever the moment is, it earns her a hug from him.
A sound roars in my head, and I realise it’s the sound of my heart breaking. I stare at the cuts I made in my palms. Superstar has moved on. She has a kid. She has a man. She is happy.
Bitter laughter bubbles from the pit of my belly. I push it down. It’s my fault. Mum’s fault. She sent those messages, not me. What does it matter now? Cathie is gone.
I try to picture a conversation with her, but all scenarios end with her man—lover, or whoever that man is, punching me in the face. The accident was last year July. This is October. Maybe I’m a little too late with my explanation, but how could she move on so fast? So fast ? I was gone long enough for her to meet someone new and have his child. Do they sing together?
Is that my business? I press the heels of my palms against my eyes. Mum got her wish of seeing us apart. At least one of us is happy with the situation. My eyes smart with tears. I’m a grown man, but I think I’m about to cry in the back of a cab. It would make a great song title.
Grown men cry . A line in the song would be crying in the back of a cab in fucking Yorkrinth.
“Are you all right there, bruv?”
“Yeah,” I say. My head drops to my palms. I hear a car, but my body closes to everything. It is over. I guess we were never meant to be together. “Take me back to where you got me.”
My phone rings. I answer without checking the name. The boys don’t have to worry about me having a breakdown. Once I know it’s Scott, I say, “Don’t worry, I’m on my way back.”
Lucas was right all along. She moved on. Maybe it’s time to do the same.
Scott laughs. “I called for something else. Finally found you a PI. Should I send his number?”
My eyes stray to the spot where the blue car was earlier. I shake my head. If you love someone and you’re as stupid as I am to lose them, let them find happiness in someone else, even if it hurts like hell. And losing Cathie hurts. It hurts from the inside, slowly tearing me outside as well.
The car jerks under me as it stirs to life, and Scott reminds me of his question.
“I don’t need it anymore,” I answer.
“You sure, bud?” Scott asks. I massage my forehead. “He came highly recommended.”
“Yeah. Got my answers already. Thanks.”
The call ends without questions from him. That’s Scott for you. He minds his business until it gets to the point of concern. A hole expands in my chest. I’m not sure what’s worse. All those months with a fucked-up memory, the months of searching for her, or the realisation she no longer needs me. Each of them comes with a different type of pain. I hide them behind a mask of indifference and text the boys to let them know I’m fine and on my way to the house.
That lady who predicted our future was a scam. She might have seen babies, but they weren’t mine. They belong to that smug bastard who gets to hold Cathie. Was that what Pete wanted me to see? How happy his daughter was without me? He got his wishes. I’ll leave her alone.
We reach our destination. I pay the driver his dues and alight. My steps are disoriented as I rush into the house. Lucas and Sam follow, but I race into my room, sneak under the cover, and pull it over my head. I’m not ‘being a man’ right now, but where the hell has that got me?
My door opens. The bed dips with their combined weight, but they leave me be.
“We are here for you, Cal,” Lucas says.
But I don’t want them. I want Cathie. I want her to yank the cover off me and kiss or hug me. I force those unhelpful thoughts out of my head. Mum might have told her all those months ago to stop contacting me. But today, I can finally agree with Mum. Cathie and I are over.