5. Callum
Callum
“Hi, Cal! It’s Tammy.”
“And Jeff!”
Both of their voices sound a bit more weathered and a tad deeper. I’ve become accustomed to detecting even the smallest shifts in tone over time, especially on more recent recordings like this one.
I can’t resist wondering how they’ve changed. Does Tammy wear reading glasses now? Did Jeff ever decide to grow out his beard? Is it gray?
“We wanted to check in with you. Your mom told us that Zebra’s still kicking. I swear, that cat will live forever. Jeff’s allergies thank you for taking custody, by the way.” Tammy chuckles. “How’s she doing? Surly as ever? Or has she come around to anyone that isn’t her person?”
Jeff starts speaking, and I can practically hear the smile in his voice.
“I still think about the argument you had at our house. The one where you swore you juggled the ball two hundred times while you were waiting for him to meet you outside. More than his personal best, but no one was there to see it. You ran inside the house to brag, and not a single one of us believed you. How could we? It was at least forty more than you’d ever done. ”
Tammy laughs. “Do you remember how upset you were? You were all, ‘Zebra watched from the window!’ The fact that he picked up baby Zebra to ask her, and she actually shook her head no… It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I hear some rustling, then Jeff’s voice comes through again, more emotional than before.
“We miss you, Cal. Maybe you feel like too much time has passed. But no amount of time passed would change our feelings about wanting to see you.” His voice quiets, almost like he’s trying to lower it so his wife doesn’t hear.
“Tammy freezes a batch of your favorite soup every month, just in case. Please consider stopping by.”
My eyes are dry, but it feels like I’m drowning. The fucking soup. I lean my head against the couch behind me, and it bumps against the wall.
Jeff wasn’t wrong. I do feel like too much time has passed. Have I made things worse by staying away? By not asking for their forgiveness sooner?
“How are you feeling right now, Cal?” Dr. Jain’s calm voice interrupts my self-interrogation.
“Tammy and Jeff… They’re being nice, but if they saw me, I know they’d feel differently. It’d all come rushing back for them, and I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Do you know they’d feel differently, or is that an assumption you’re making on their behalf?”
I shrug and open my eyes. “Externally, I know it’s an assumption. Internally, it feels like the truth.”
She jots down a note. “That’s really good, that you’re recognizing the difference. That gives us something to work on, doesn’t it? We’ll start there.”
We spend the rest of the session discussing techniques for separating my inner critic from reality. I pay close attention to what she’s saying, trying to absorb it. Each day, I find myself wanting it a little more. To heal.
Dr. Jain ends our session with her usual question. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I’m going to the grand opening of a new smoothie shop at Globe Fitness.”
“Ah, another inspection then?”
I sit a little straighter. “No. I’m, um, just going.”
She leans forward. “Really? That’s great, Cal. Any particular reason you want to go?”
“I did a pre-open inspection there, as a courtesy for a family friend who owns it. But…” I pause, hesitant to share anything about Peyton.
It’s not like I have any right discussing her in my fucking therapy appointment.
We’re practically strangers. Still, I want to share this with someone, so I bring her up anyway.
“There’s this woman that I met at my inspection, and she works there—I think.
Truthfully, I have no idea what she does.
I don’t really even know her. But I find her kind of, well, interesting?
It’s like she has this way about her that makes me want to figure out why she’s…
” I fiddle with a loose thread on the couch cushion, feeling dumb for even talking about her like this. “I guess I’m not sure why I’m going.”
Dr. Jain takes her glasses off. “Maybe, while you’re there, you could strike up another conversation with this woman. It doesn’t have to be anything special, but it’s healthy to have connections outside of your family. I think this could be a great short-term goal for you.”
“Alright,” I say, though the idea of viewing a conversation with Peyton as a “goal” turns my stomach a bit—and not just due to my nerves around seeing her again.
I don’t love the idea that I need to make her an objective in order to follow through.
Like I can’t accomplish things in my own life without writing them down.
“Keep me posted on how it goes in our next session,” Dr. Jain instructs. “Good work today, Cal.”
Pride and anxiety war for top spot in my chest, but I nod, gather my stuff, and head out.
* * *
Kevin waves to me from behind the register, and I return his wave before continuing to scan the crowd for Peyton. Peyton. A nice name for a mysterious person who’s occupied way too much of the space between my ears over the past week.
Where is she? I could probably see Kevin’s neon pink employee T-shirt from Mars, so why haven’t I spotted her yet? Rising on my toes, I crane my neck like I’m not already taller than 99% of the people in this shop. Maybe she’s in the kitchen?
Clementine nudges me. “Why are you acting weirder than normal?”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you lost a toddler at Disney World.”
My face heats. “I was just looking for someone—thing. Something.”
Clementine follows my gaze toward the register. “Someone? A person? You’re looking for a real, human person?”
“Not, um, a person. I misspoke.”
But then I see her. And Peyton’s not in a neon pink T-shirt like the rest of the employees here.
She’s in the same lavender workout set she was wearing the last time I saw her.
Her hair is styled in the same shiny blonde ponytail, swishing back and forth, with a few pieces framing her face.
My gaze snags on those full lips that appear to always be one joke away from tilting into a grin.
Clementine mutters something to Clover—“Doesn’t look like he ‘misspoke’ to me.
More like ‘Miss America,’ actually,” —but I don’t have the spoons to deal with the twins right now.
I head for Peyton, who’s next in line to order, chatting with other customers.
She’s gesturing animatedly and capturing everyone’s attention in an effortless way.
By the time I’m close enough to hear what she’s saying, three more people have joined her circle, hanging on to her every word.
“It’s so exciting!” Peyton’s massive smile looks like it’s straight out of a toothpaste ad. “I’ve been asking for a smoothie shop for years, and I’m so happy gym ownership finally listened. I’ll definitely be coming here after every workout.”
The people surrounding her nod, saying, “me too,” and “totally.” I glare at the short and stocky gym rat that hasn’t stopped leering at every nearby woman’s breasts. I’m about to step between them and announce my presence, but Peyton reaches the front of the line first.
Kevin greets her. “Well, hi there! Welcome to Healthtopia!”
Peyton waves cheerily. “Hi! I’m really interested in a protein-rich smoothie, so the Nutty Nana sounds good. But last time I went to a smoothie shop, the nuts weren’t organic and I ended up getting sick. Where do you source your peanuts from?”
Why is she acting like she doesn’t know him?
“We source our nuts from a family-owned organic farm in Georgia. In fact, everything at Healthtopia is organic.”
Peyton sighs in relief. “Oh, that’s wonderful news. And I’m assuming the Nutty Nana’s gut-healthy?”
Kevin blushes, as if gabbing about gut microbiomes could be considered flirting. “I’m so glad you asked! We get our whey powder and yogurt from a local creamery. All of our smoothies have clean probiotics.”
Peyton pulls her credit card out of a hidden pocket by her lower back. My glare at Gym Rat turns slightly more menacing as he openly gawks at her ass.
None the wiser, Peyton just grins. “Probiotics? Say no more. I’ll take a large.”
Kevin rings her up, as if they didn’t have this exact same conversation last week. As if Peyton was a normal paying customer he’d never met before.
What is going on? I want to march over and question her to satisfy my interest. At the same time, I don’t want to interrupt whatever they’re doing here.
Regardless, it’s not like I can look away.
Peyton steps to the side, and the woman behind her orders a Nutty Nana, too.
“Great choice, girl,” Peyton tells her.
“Smoothie twins!” she exclaims when Gym Rat rattles off the same order with three additional scoops of protein powder.
Kevin hands a few receipts to his employee—a gangly teenage boy who’s actually wearing the neon pink shirt. The worker puts on plastic gloves and grabs a bunch of bananas for the smoothies.
Clover pokes me in the arm. “Cal. Take a picture of me in front of this accent wall for my socials.”
“Can’t Clementine do it?” I idly ask, distracted by Peyton, who finally seems to notice me. Her eyes dart in my direction and widen momentarily, before quickly refocusing on her admirers. She pastes a bright smile back onto her face.
“No.” Clover scoffs. “I need someone tall for the angles.”
“Fine.” I grab her phone and take a few pictures of her, then some more, until I’ve taken twenty-four fucking pictures of Clover in front of pink wallpaper.
By the time I bring my attention back to the front, moving slightly closer to hear Peyton over the noise of the blenders, she and her posse have all gotten their smoothies.
“Cheers, friends!” Peyton raises hers before taking a long sip. She then lets out a moan that I refuse to admit has done anything other than puzzle me.
She takes another sip, rolling her eyes back into her head. “This is so good. I’ve never tasted such a pronounced nutty flavor in a drink before.”
Except last week, when you tried the same “life-changing” drink.