Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
The Parting Glass — Hozier
CALLIOPE
W e were babysitting on Elliot’s and my last night.
He didn’t know it was the last night. Our last night together. Precisely how it should’ve been. Shocking him so he couldn’t do anything about it. Blindsiding him.
Cruel but necessary.
I thought I’d be greedy for time alone together, to soak up the last touches, moments, as if I could imprint him onto my soul.
But being alone with him, lying to him felt like breathing in toxic waste. It felt fatal.
Clara was the ultimate distraction. And despite my thorny, melancholy feelings, she made it difficult to be completely miserable.
The little girl was happiness in black combat boots. You would never have known how sick she was just a few months before.
Her prognosis was officially cautiously optimistic. Hence Beau being back at work and the nanny having a night off, Clara out of his sight for small amounts of time.
Like my time with my nieces, I liked being with Clara. And I loved seeing Elliot with her.
“Can Aunt Loppie put me to bed, please?” Clara asked with the impeccable manners her father had instilled in her without actually possessing them himself.
Elliot’s face became warm and melty when he looked at me, his smile so full of love it crushed my lungs.
“Yes, she may.” Elliot kissed his niece’s head.
I avoided eye contact as I busied myself with getting Clara into her room, her instructing me on how to get her projector set up before turning the lights off.
I laid beside her in her bed, also at her request. She didn’t want a story; she wanted to weave her small fingers in mine then point out all the stars in the solar system projected on her ceiling.
“The ones that are red and big are red supergiants,” she told me.
“They’re really big, but they’re big because they’re about to die.
In a big explosion called a supernova.” I listened to the little girl expel information that I didn’t even comprehend.
“It’s a big event in space. They grow huge and explode.
They’re the biggest and prettiest before they destroy everything. ”
I nodded, no longer surprised by the immense number of facts that a four-year-old was able to retain. She was something special.
I found it difficult not to see the parallels between me and those red giants. Getting bigger and bigger before eventually exploding and leaving wreckage in my wake.
After she was done educating me on stars, her voice sounding more and more sleepy, I blinked up at the ceiling.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered.
“I love secrets.” She suddenly sounded more awake than before.
“I love your uncle Elliot.” I had to say it out loud, letting it out somewhere before I smashed everything to pieces.
Clara let out a snort. “That’s not a secret, everyone knows that.”
I turned my head to regard her profile. “Everyone?”
She nodded. “You kiss, you have sleepovers, your face loses all of its edges when you look at him.”
“My … edges?” I was incredibly impressed by how perceptive she was.
“Yes.” She nodded, not explaining more, as if I should know exactly what she was talking about.
Which I kind of did.
I had edges. I’d ensured that once I moved to New York, I worked on sharpening all my edges so a man couldn’t cut me. So I could cut. Be a weapon.
I didn’t need edges with Elliot. His family. Or mine.
But it was past time for me to figure out a way to bring them back, sharper than ever. Because the soft version of Calliope was never going to survive what was to come.
“You know, you’re the reason we’re together.” I continued the conversation even though getting her to sleep was supposed to be the goal. I couldn’t handle more alone time with Elliot. I feared it might kill me.
“You being sick… It was the roundabout reason we met,” I explained. “Though I would take that away from you in a second, never knowing you or Elliot if it meant you didn’t have to be sick,” I added, meaning every word.
She was silent for a few seconds. “I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t take away being sick. Because I like you.
A lot. I like having an aunt. I like Hannah.
And it sucked being sick, but I got lollipops and got to read all the books I wanted.
Plus, my daddy was always there. And Grandpa.
And Uncle Elliot. I wouldn’t take it away.
” Her hazel eyes peered up at me. “Even if I didn’t have all the good things that came from it, I still would make it through again for you, Aunt Loppie.
So Uncle Elliot could have you. And so I could. ”
I was not a crier. Not one bit. But fuck, if my eyes didn’t well up at the sincerity in her small voice.
“And you know Nora, and that means I get more cakes than before,” she added in a way that only a kid could.
I made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.
“I wouldn’t change anything I went through to get right here either, Clara,” I smoothed down her hair then dropped my lips to it, inhaling the smell of strawberry shampoo.
Then we lay there, looking at the stars until she went to sleep. I stayed there long after, until headlights softly illuminated her room, telling me I was safe to go back to Elliot with a grumpy Beau as a buffer.
There was the car ride home, but I got creative with my mouth during that, so Elliot did not complain one bit.
Then we got back to his place, and he got busy with his mouth in a way that didn’t allow for any conversation.
And by that point, I’d ensured I’d exhausted him to sleep.
Though it stood to reason that I too should sleep, given the day ahead of me that would require all of my energy.
Yet I couldn’t. I had to suck up Elliot’s soft, warm torso, catalog every hair, each freckle change in pigment.
The angle of his nose, the slight crookedness that had come from a rogue soccer ball in high school. He’d never been in a fistfight.
His favorite dessert was lemon meringue pie. He liked science fiction novels and The Oprah Winfrey Show . His favorite smell was the ocean. “Or it was until I inhaled the scent of your cunt,” he’d told me, hands dipping there one night at dinner.
I recited all the facts, tidbits, idiosyncrasies about him as I watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“I love you too,” I whispered the words I’d never said out loud. “Which is why I’m doing what I’m doing.” Then I rested my head on his chest and forced myself to sleep.
Elliot left before dawn the next morning with nothing but a quick kiss goodbye and a carefree, content smile that singed my insides.
It was a good thing he was fishing that morning, I told myself. Gave me time to prepare. Then I pushed him, guilt and regret from my mind so I could make the necessary arrangements. There was no room for error; I couldn’t let my emotions cause me to make some stupid mistake.
Once I was certain I had everything I needed, I made the rounds.
First, to the bakery for the caffeine I severely needed.
I shot the shit with Tina, forcing myself to behave normally even though I didn’t miss the way she squinted at me and the frown she was directing my way instead of at the espresso machine like she regularly did.
She was too fucking soulful and wise for a biker chick hard-ass, and she saw too much.
Luckily, she was also smart enough not to try to probe.
Nora and Fiona were both working, Rowan appearing from the back with Henry strapped to his body, sleeping soundly.
All of the children in the Jupiter crew spent the first months of their lives never being put down.
Even for naps. Someone—more often than not their protective fathers—was always wearing them, driving them around, holding them in capable hands.
It filled my heart to see children so loved.
To see the people I loved living lives they deserved.
Though I wasn’t nuts enough to say any cryptic goodbye speeches.
That was bound to set off my brother’s alarm.
I joked and drank coffee before heading to Avery and Kane’s house where I was assaulted by their large dog and the toddler who was holding its tail like a lead.
More coffee. More shooting the shit, more saying goodbyes in my head to the friends I’d come to treasure.
Then back to Elliot’s, to the goodbye I’d have to say out loud.
Because if I did achieve everything I intended to do that day, I would have a chance of coming back to Jupiter.
And if I did achieve everything I intended to do that day, I would be far too tainted to be with Elliot.
He deserved someone lighter. Maybe little Blondie at the bar would finally get her in.
Though she wasn’t light, considering the death stares she shot my way whenever she could.
Whomever Elliot ended up with would be better for him than me. Although if he paired up with someone, I’d have to rethink my stance on settling in Jupiter because I doubted I could just bump into them while getting coffee in two years without clawing a perfectly innocent woman’s face off.
Cross that bridge when I came to it, I decided.
Surviving this day was my first goal.
I’d gotten to Elliot’s place already dressed in my proverbial armor, but he hadn’t arrived home yet. I was happy I’d stocked his freezer with the appropriate supplies.
I took a shot of tequila then immediately poured myself another, savoring the taste, the burn.
I wasn’t going to die sober, if in fact that was indeed where I was going. To cross the River Styx, to meet my maker, whatever lay on the other side of this.
Granted, I was going to try my level best not to die, since I wasn’t ready or brave enough to face the true eternal consequences of my sins. Even though I didn’t believe in organized religion, and believed that hell was invented by old, white men to scare people into submission.
Hearing the crunch of tires on the driveway, I quickly rinsed my shot glass and put the tequila away.