Damien
THIRTY-FOUR
NOW
Crudinski was a stupid name for a cat, but the little fur face seemed to know that his owner needed some extra snuggles because he appeared out of nowhere and curled up in Callum’s lap. Callum stroked his fur and the longer the cat stayed and the louder he purred, the calmer Callum became.
“I always knew he hated me,” Callum said. “But I was never able to figure out why. Why did he hate me? It was like a switch flipped. But if it’s true, why didn’t they just tell me?”
Callum leaned into my side, and I held him a little tighter.
“If it’s true, they probably didn’t tell you because of Sam. He seemed to enjoy being a bit of a dick to people. He got off on controlling people.”
“I’m going to have to talk to my parents, aren’t I?”
“Probably.”
Callum sighed. “I don’t want to. I don’t want any of this.” He paused, his body freezing as he realized what he said and how it sounded. “Except you. You’re the only good thing that has come out of all of this.”
I knew exactly how he felt. I kissed the top of his head, but stayed quiet. Sometimes Callum just needed to talk to work through things. He didn’t need input, just steady support. At least, that’s what he used to need. Maybe as an adult, he needed more from me?
It struck me that I was in his house, holding him, helping him through something, when this time one month ago, he’d been a stranger to me. A ghost. Callum Weeks a month ago had existed only in my memories.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me out of my head. I shifted around and tugged my phone out of my pocket.
Bowie
Where are you?
We were going to get drinks tonight
Are you at the bar already?
“Shit.” I was the literal worst friend on the planet. Instead of texting him, I decided that if I was going to accidentally ditch him, he at least deserved a phone call. He answered on the first ring.
“Dude, where are you?”
“I’m out of town, with Callum. Something came up.”
The silence on the other end of the line was complete, which meant Bowie was hurt and probably pissed off. And I owed him a better truth than the vague line I’d offered up as an explanation.
“Callum’s brother was a piece of shit and he left some pretty wicked information landmines behind when he died, and Callum and I just stepped on one.”
“Well, shit, man. A heads up would’ve been nice, but I get why you bailed.
But you owe me, dude. You’ve been a shit friend.
I’m cutting you slack because there’s not really a manual for what to do when your former best friend, who was a manipulative piece of shit, dies and is still somehow running your life.
” The snark in his voice reassured me that Bowie wasn’t mad at me. But I really did owe him.
“I know. I owe you so big. Name your price.”
“I want to meet him,” Bowie said without missing a beat. “I want to meet the boy who stole your heart and never gave it back.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I was careful not to make any promises that I couldn’t keep.
Who knew if Callum would want me to stay or not.
The only thing I was sure of was that I wasn’t leaving unless he told me to go.
“Feed Spike for me.” Feed Spike was basically code for I don’t know how long this is going to take, but it might be a while.
“You’re such an asshole. Yes, I’ll feed Spike, you delusional jerk. Maybe I’ll cover him in chia seeds and turn him into a chia pet. Give him a fancy hairdo or something. I think he’d look good with a mullet.”
“You’re so fucking weird.” The affection I had for Bowie bled into my words.
He was my best friend, and I loved him for knowing what this meant to me.
For not pushing me to make different decisions.
Maybe better decisions. Even if I was running headlong into heartache, Bowie wasn’t about to stop me, but he’d be there to help me pick up the pieces again.
Because, truthfully, I didn’t know where Callum and I stood or what was going to happen with us.
We were two men who’d gone our separate ways and, sure, for now we’d found our way back to each other, but there was no guarantee that Callum would want something more between us.
I only knew where he lived because I’d stalked his social media and figured it out.
Rather than catastrophizing, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second. “Thanks, Bowie. And I’m sorry I bailed on you.”
“I get it, man. That doesn’t mean you get to keep doing it, but I get it. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Take it easy,” Bowie said, ending the call.
“Sorry about that.” I set my phone on the coffee table and stared at the scattered papers Sam had left for us. “What did you want to do with this information?”
Callum sighed. “Nothing. Scream. Confront my parents. Piss on Sam’s grave. Curse his soul. Nap. I don’t know.”
I hated how tired and fragile Callum sounded.
“I could kill Sam for this if he wasn’t already dead. Am I going to hell for saying that?”
“I mean, that’s unlikely. You could always go home for a visit and somehow swab their DNA without them knowing and re-run the test.”
The sound Callum made was almost a laugh. “Okay, Tom Cruise, let’s just Mission Impossible this rather than doing the sensible thing and just asking them what the fuck.”
“This is like one of those who’s the daddy talk show episodes.”
“Yeah, but it’s even more fucked up because the one who let the cat out of the bag is a dead dude. Fuck.” Callum’s outburst prompted Crudinski to get up and leave. “Fuck, he’s such an asshole. I’m so pissed at him.”
“He’s not exactly my favorite person. Hasn’t been since the night he caught us.”
“What happened after that, anyway? I mean, after I left for college. I just always assumed that Sam was still your friend, but that he was just keeping you away from the house. I didn’t want to cause problems for you, so I just… believed it.”
“What happened after that? A bunch of nothing. Sam basically ostracized me. I had no friends, and you know what my home life was like.” Parents who might have noticed that I was home more often but didn’t care enough to ask why.
“I just kept my head down and got through the school year. Graduated and got the fuck out of there. I thought about going to the same school you’d gone to, but Sam… ”
“What did he say?”
“He said he’d ruin your life if I went near you. He said… oh fuck. He said he knew how to turn everyone against you. He sounded so sure of himself. And he was so angry, Callum. So fucking angry.”
“Sam was an angry person. He was always jealous even when he had no reason to be. I always thought he acted like my very existence was a threat to him, and I guess it was. But at least now I know why.” Callum sighed and picked up the results again.
“It makes sense for it to be true. I mean, he always did look more like them than I did. How could I not have guessed?”
“Callum, be real. Who sits around and thinks gee, maybe my parents aren’t my parents?”
“Every angry ten-year-old that ever lived?”
“You got me there. I used to wish that I was adopted so I could go find my real family. But then I started to be afraid that maybe I was adopted and all my parents sucked. And that was a bleak thought.”
The papers shook in Callum’s grasp. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Right now? Nothing.” I took the papers from him and set them back on the table. “Right now, you don’t have to do anything. Sam is dead and gone, and we don’t have to let him manipulate us anymore. He can take his passive aggressive note and shove it up his noncorporeal ass.”
“What does the rest of the letter say?” Callum fidgeted, like he wanted to reach for the letter so he could keep reading, but at the same time, couldn’t decide if he really wanted to know after all.
“Probably just more shit proving what a bastard your brother was.”
He barked out a laugh. “He’s not my brother, I guess. Which is kind of a relief because, wow, was he ever a fucking douche.”
Callum’s declaration sounded less like relief and more like a desperation to cling to anything that might keep him from cracking in half.
“Did you want me to read the rest of the letter?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“Then the answer is no, at least for now.”
“No, for now. I can live with that,” Callum said after a minute or two had passed.
The next breath he released was shakier than the last. “I fucking hate him, Damien. I hate him so much. And I’m just so fucking pissed at him, and now I’m sad and mad and just…
” Callum’s voice broke off and he buried his face in his hands.
Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him into my lap and rearranged us so I could hold him for as long as possible. As long as he needed.
Callum didn’t cry, though. He kept his face covered for several minutes, and when he pulled his hands away, he seemed to have composed himself a little more.
“Tell me what you need.” I kissed the side of his head.
“I don’t know what I need.” He sounded dejected. Exhausted. Like it was an effort to keep breathing and thinking.
It would be easy to distract him with sex, but I didn’t think that’s what he actually needed in this moment.
“Have you eaten?” I asked.
“Not long ago. I’m not hungry.”
My stomach made a loud grumbling noise as if awakened from an eternal slumber by the mention of food. I had yet to eat today and hadn’t stopped on the way here.
“I’ll order something for myself and get some extra in case you change your mind. What’s good around here?”
“I have leftover Thai in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“Perfect, I’ll eat that and then run you a bath.”
“I just showered.”
“Showers are for washing. Baths are for relaxing, and I’m going to make you relax before you give yourself an ulcer.” And maybe somewhere in there, I’d find a moment to read the rest of Sam’s letter.
This whole thing with Sam had me thinking about how you can know someone, but never really know them at all.
It was clear that Sam had known about Callum’s paternity for years, and he’d kept that a secret.
It was also clear that he saw me as more of a possession than a person.
I had been his friend first, so I was supposed to be his friend only, last, and always, or I was no friend at all.
Five years as Sam’s best friend, and I’d hardly known who he really was.
That made me terrified that, despite how it felt to be here, sitting next to Callum, maybe I didn’t know him either.
It felt like I knew him. Down in my soul, since that first connection had been formed between us, it was like my soul woke up and recognized his.
But I didn’t know him. Not really.
I knew nothing about his life between that night and the day of the funeral.
He might as well have been a ghost. But now he was solid, and real, and I didn’t know how to hang on to him.
Or even if I should. It would be so easy for this to slip through my fingers again despite how tightly I wanted to cling to it.
I didn’t know how to let go, even if I wanted to. My new reality was that I was already in over my head again.