5. Caleb
Caleb
W aking up to the smell of my mom’s cooking is never a bad thing. It’s one of the things I missed while in L.A. Avery’s not a bad cook, but no one’s cooking compares to my mom’s. Except for maybe Marlene Thompson. Brady’s mom definitely knows how to cook.
I sit up on the side of my bed and rub my eyes.
The bed at Avery’s was better. I’ll give her that.
My parents still haven’t sprung the money to get me a king-sized bed here.
Fine… I haven’t sprung the money to get me a king-sized bed here either.
Still the same old full-sized bed I’ve had since high school.
Same one I popped Casey’s cherry on. Lots of memories on this bed.
Which is precisely why I need to get rid of it and why I need to find my own place. Starting today. After breakfast. Food has to come first. I walk into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of joggers. My mom slaps my arm with the greasy spatula, and I wince.
“How many times have I had to tell you, Caleb?” she scolds. “You are a grown man now. Put some clothes on.”
“What’s this about clothes?” My dad questions as he walks into the kitchen wearing the same attire as me. “Men don’t wear clothes around here, woman!”
“Keep walking around like that, and I’ll have you committed,” she mumbles, and my dad pinches her behind.
My mom huffs and rolls her eyes, but I can see a smile playing at her lips. My parents have been like this ever since I can remember. Playful banter and quips. Come to think of it, a lot like Casey and I were. Only a lot less arguing.
My mom likes to pretend we’re upstanding citizens of Hollis.
Our house is always in pristine condition, never a manicured bush out of place.
She had a pool put in last year, probably because our neighbors did the year before.
She never leaves the house without looking her best. Clothes ironed.
Not a hair out of place. Makeup perfect.
My dad, however, doesn’t care if he leaves the house with mix-matched socks on.
My mom has been like this since Avery left town. So worried about what people in Hollis will say. What they’ll think about us. She’s yet to realize they are going to talk regardless of how nice you dress and how well kept our home is.
“Breakfast smells good, Mom.”
Avery comes in, and I can see my mom visibly stiffen.
I know she doesn’t mean to, but she simply doesn’t know how to be comfortable around Avery.
She hasn’t been for years. Their relationship is strained despite both of them trying their best to make it work.
My mom turns around and asks if Avery would like to help set the table, which she accepts.
“I’m so happy my two babies are home. It’s about time. Who in the world wants to be in Los Angeles this time of year?” Mom asks, and Avery and I both smirk at each other. “I know Casey was probably wondering if you were ever coming home, Caleb. You missed her birthday.”
One thing Gloria Randall doesn’t seem to want to accept is the fact that Casey and I have broken up. Permanently.
“I assure you, Mom, Casey was not worried about me coming home. I told you we broke up. I’m sure Derek bought her something nice.”
Like a fucking membership to the country club or some shit. He’s a country club type of guy. I just know it.
“Caleb, you and I both know that you and Casey had an argument, and it’ll work itself out. It always does. Goodness, do you remember the first time you brought her over to the house? Y’all were just kids then. Brady, too.”
I do remember. I remember a lot of things and the majority of them aren’t pretty.
Like the time Casey and I got in a screaming fight over who won the championship football game over in Redbud our sophomore year of high school.
She got so pissed off when she found out I was right that she kissed their quarterback.
Needless to say, he ended up with a broken nose, and I got my ass kicked by three of his teammates.
I suppose it wound up being worth it. She rewarded me with her virginity.
“People move on,” Avery comments. “Like Caleb said, Casey has a boyfriend. Besides, Caleb met someone in L.A.”
“Not exactly,” I explain, glaring at Avery for even mentioning Hillary. “I just made some new friends. Nothing long-term.”
“Are you planning on going back to Los Angeles, Son?”
Great. She called me son. That’s her way of letting me know she’s vulnerable and is opening her heart to me. Any time my mom calls me son, I’m either in trouble or my mom is emotional.
“I’m not planning on it at the moment,” I answer truthfully. “Hollis is home for me.”
“God, I’ll never understand that,” Avery mumbles, but both of my parents hear her, and the spatula my mom is holding clatters to the floor.
“I suppose we understand why you can’t stay, Avery,” my mom grits out, and my dad goes to her side.
“Gloria, let’s not do this,” he says.
My dad is the calm one. The mediator. If I get my temper from anyone, I guess it’s my mom.
She portrays a calm and collected woman on the outside, but on the inside, she’s bottled rage that could explode at any moment.
I’m not calling her crazy, not by any means, but maybe she holds her emotions in a little too much.
“You’re right, Mom. I can’t stay here, and we all know why,” Avery agrees, her voice holding a little snarkiness. “People might start talking. They might get scared that I’ll do it again!”
“Avery! That’s enough!” My dad’s voice booms as he grips my mom’s shoulders. Tears stream down her face, but she quickly wipes them away.
“The table is set,” Avery says, showing no emotion to the situation.
“Breakfast is ready,” Mom replies, doing the same.
I sigh, wishing that the three of them would sit and talk, hash out their feelings from the tragedy that wrecked our family.
That wrecked so many families. Bottling up those emotions isn’t helping, and they’ve been doing that for too long.
They’ve been letting everyone else control what they think they’re supposed to feel, just like I did with Casey.
I let her control everything about me. Now, I’m in control.
I know she couldn’t stand not getting a rise out of me last night. She wanted to hurt me. Wanted to make me angry. But that’s not me anymore. I don’t want to fall into the same old habits with her. I want something better, something good.
Best way to do that is to find my own place.