24. 22.
22.
Callie
“Don’t you dare take those boots off, Dario!” I warn, pointing at his hands hovering over the laces of the said boots.
“Excuse me?! I can’t wear my work boots at home!”
“It will stink the whole house!” I gasp, but he’s already doing it.
Weeks of living at home only proved that children should leave their parents’ house. Mom fed me more than it was necessary, while she checked on my forehead like I was truly sick. She called me pale and fed me ajiaco , but since I refused to tell her the truth, my mysterious illness persisted.
And I feel sick. I need a reason to be parked on her couch, arguing with Dario like we are teenagers again, and sickness is the perfect answer to all my prayers.
“Oh, God!!” I gag once the boots are removed. “I’m telling Dad on you!” I screech, taking my blanket with me when I remove myself from the seat.
“It’s a gazillion degrees outside, Callie.” Dario points out, bringing his foot up on the coffee table.
“Thanks for the weather report, pinhead.”
“Why the hell are you walking like a burn victim with that blanket?”
Mom comes from the kitchen to save me, her gaze loving. Her cool palm checks my forehead once more in such a soothing motion, I almost purr.
“Language, Dario. Lupita is under the weather.” Mom fusses.
“I wonder what she has.” Dario crosses his arms over his chest. “Such a long recovery.”
“No feet on my furniture!” To no one’s surprise, Mom slaps his smelly feet off the table, and I make a face of victory at him.
Maybe I have regressed a little since coming back home. But I need all the love and attention Mom is always ready to give. And I need the afternoons when Dad is back from work, and we play chess while he tells me long-winded stories about trees.
It’s… perfect.
I want to be cuddled and called by my childhood nickname. I want to feel protected and forget that The Final Rose ever—
“Put the TV on,” are Ben’s first words when he arrives home, Dad trailing after him.
“Gladly.” Dario is quick to oblige, turning the TV right on.
“You got to be fucking kidding me!” I sneer.
“Language!” the other four Sosas say, and I narrow my eyes to my brothers.
Dario is always a couple of minutes early, coming in and annoying the life of me. Then here comes Ben, usually the last person at the construction site. Right now, their project is near where Dad is working, so both trucks arrive at the same time most nights.
Usually, Dario annoys me and tries to steal food while Mom is distracted asking Dad about his day, and that’s when Ben disappears for a shower.
But no one is moving today. Dad comes over to give Mom a kiss, and I get one in my temple while I stand right where I am, watching my idiot brothers with narrowed eyes.
The TV is paused in The Final Rose’s logo and I can’t stop but wince. This is all I wanted to avoid.
The season finale.
Maya, Abby, or Vera. Who cares? It's not me.
“Dario, maybe we should turn the TV off?” Dad asks with his gentle voice.
“Turn it off, dick face,” I tell him over gritted teeth.
“Now, Calliope, no name-calling.” Mom chimes in with an edge of warning in her voice. “But turn the television off, Dario.”
Dario smiles at me the same way he smiled when I caught him trying pot when he was fifteen. An unperturbed, cheerful smile. Either my little brother is the most relaxed person on earth or a psychotic murderer.
Right now, I’m the one ready to start the murdering spree.
Straight to the offensive, I leave my blanket behind and leap to the couch, reaching for the remote. Dario yelps, scrambling to hide it from me as Dad tells us to stop and Mom threatens to get us with a flip-flop.
I don’t hear any of my family. My heart is leaping off my chest, my breathing coming out in hurtful puffs. I’m not ready to see it. I’m not ready to hear Sebastian’s voice and sit there while he chooses the path of his heart.
During the weeks we had apart, I’ve been telling myself it wouldn’t matter the results. Anya decided he was going to choose Vera since she’s the fan favorite. Even though rationally, I know it isn’t really Sebastian’s choosing, my irrational heart can’t take it.
Reality is what we construct. Nothing is real until we make it so. And that’s what we do on reality TV. We distort the truth; we build around it and create whatever we want until truth and lies are so woven together that it’s impossible to tell them apart.
And that’s when the lies are true too, because enough people believe in it.
I hold back tears when I’m inches from scratching Dario’s face off. “Give me that remote, you turd!”
“Enough!” Mom’s voice cuts through. “Can't you see your sister is suffering?”
My arm stops mid-action, losing the strength of her words.
No, I’m sick.
I've been mysteriously sick for weeks and that’s why I need her cuddles and food, and why I walk around with a blanket around my shoulders.
“I’m sick,” I say in the smallest voice.
“You’re heartbroken, baby,” Mom says, and I wince.
I don’t want to be heartbroken. I’m Callie-Fucking-Sosa. I’m a beast on the set. I’m all focused and I’m unstoppable. I don’t lose my mind because of stupid things like my heart.
“I’m sick, mami,” I tell her again, my eyes shining in her direction and being borderline pathetic.
Mom opens her mouth to say something else, but my dad stops her before the words are even formed. She holds her tongue back and the four of them stare down at me, saying nothing and everything at the same time.
They can see my bleeding heart through my lies and I left filled with shame.
I get off Dario, ignoring his sigh of relief. I sit beside him with a sniffle, as Dad, that saint of a man, gets my blanket from the ground and puts it back around my shoulders.
“No one is trying to be cruel to you, Callie.” Ben talks for the first time since ordering to turn the TV on.
He stands by the door, eyes locked on mine. Ben is tall and big, always been too big for his own good. He’s my big brother, and I always thought he was bigger than life itself.
He defended me and Dario our whole lives. He never let us go astray. His eyes pin me in place and my heart squeezes. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t care what it is, I’m going to ig—"
“You need to watch this. Do you trust me?”
I want to cry, but I nod instead.
Ben lets out a breath, and Dario readjusts beside me. Mom and Dad, who until now were frozen by the kitchen’s door, finally move to sit on my left side.
I hold my tongue so I don't question what kind of shock therapy this is.
Dario presses play. The Final Rose’s theme song starts, and I gulp.
“In the last episode of The Final Rose…” Fox’s voiceover announces, but Dario stops right in a zoom of Sebastian’s face.
“We don’t need the recap… no…” Dario murmurs with himself skipping ahead to the actual episode.
That was it, wasn’t it? I saw Sebastian’s face, and I didn’t burst into flames or tears. Or became a pile of salt or something. No. I’m still here, in my parents’ home, nursing a broken heart, with my lip quivering like life itself is taking turns hitting me in the ribs.
But the thing is, I’m still alive.
That’s why they make breakup songs saying that much. Because we do, we survive. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts and how in pieces you are afterwards.
We are more than that. I’m more than that.
“Ready?” I’m taken by surprise by Dario’s question.
I turn to him, nodding. Ready.
He points the remote to the TV.
Here we go.
Goosebumps rise on my skin, even with the blanket over my shoulders. The words coming out of The Final Rose’s host make little sense to me. She talks about an unforgettable season, twists and turns, and true love. It’s the first season I haven’t watched every episode religiously. Nessa and I always watch the first episode together while we joke around and check TV apps to spy on who are the public’s favorites.
“And here come our hopefuls…” Andrea Fox calls. “Maya Denver.”
I hold my breath when the camera pans to her. She’s a vision in purple, her mouth in a perfect smile. Maya had enough potential to be the season’s main girl. She’s shy, honest, funny, and just the right amount of nerdy. I give her a month before she’s snagged by someone else.
“Vera Kaur.”
I gasp with the rest of my family when it’s Vera’s turn. Her color is emerald green, that much is obvious. At this point, the color is her brand, and I’ll forever associate it with her. The dress is perfect with a daring neckline, as her hair is gathered over her left shoulder, cascading in caramel waves.
She’s the winner, and she looks like it.
I mean, I knew she was, but now, as she walks down the stairs and chats with Alison, I can see it in her posture.
It’s her show. This is her moment.
I’m supposed to be happy to see a finale with so many genuine and amazing people. I should be watching it with the crew over cocktails, relieved it's over and excited for next season.
Happiness is the last thing I feel. My hands shake and a single lonely, pathetic tear falls. I sniffle without meaning to, and one hand reaches for mine at my left and another at my right.
Left, Mom.
Right, Dario.
I nod to reassure them I’m ok, but they never let my hands go. We watch in weighted silence as Abby comes along in a romantic pink number. With the three of them finally there, all I want is to scream.
I never felt as bad about myself ad I feel right now. I feel empty, like I lack something.
And that something might be courage.
“This season would not be the same if it wasn’t for him. The man that this side of the ocean fell in love with… Sebastian Riggs.”
I want to weep.
I would say he looks flawless, but the word lost its meaning. The blue suit matches his eyes. The coy smile breaks my heart. He goes down the stairs in obscene slow motion. His perfect shoes, up his legs, at the expanse of his chest as he fixes the cufflinks, rehearsed moves like the footage from the teaser.
I yelp like a lost puppy and mom’s hand squeezes mine. I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help it. If staying in this house taught me anything, it is that I can be soft when I have my support system behind me.
And I have them right now, holding my hand and not judging me in the slightest slightest. I smile my mom a watery smile, and she kisses me on the cheek.
The next leg of the show are clips of the cast being funny. The many times Abby said the word “vegan”, all times Maya tripped, or Vera talked too fast. And then… Sebastian. They show clips and clips of him being his British self, the words he used that made the cast and crew stop for a second.
Even I have to laugh at some of them. I used to keep a list on my phone of my favorite sayings of his, but since I left the mansion, I didn’t have the heart to look at it again.
I always loved this part of the show when the raw footage was shown. It was Jeff’s decision to add in the season seven finale and I think it’s honestly the best addition for the show.
The footage isn’t always picture-perfect, like the rest of the episodes. It shows us in the background, a rogue boom coming to a scene when someone laughs too hard. But it’s always a nice sample of how the show is made.
By real people.
I’m honestly having fun when the music changes and I almost forget to be nervous. I remind myself I have no reason to be. I know he’ll pick Vera. I was there when it was decided.
And yet, I tremble and suck in a breath.
“You know what’s coming, Sebastian?” Alison asks good-naturedly. “You know I have to ask…”
This is wrong.
It’s too early in the episode. Her question, “Who has the final rose?” comes much later. It’s the last thing on the show. The finale usually drags, giving them time to talk and mislead the public.
“What--” I start, but Dario, of all people, shushes me.
I turn to him with a frown. But Sebastian is talking on TV, and I don’t have time for my brother.
“Who has the final rose?” Alison asks, and I hold my breath.
The camera zooms in on Sebastian, and he looks straight ahead.
“From the moment I signed up for The Final Rose , I knew that would be a hard question to answer. I met so many incredible women in the last months…”
The screen shows the three girls smiling at him.
“I made so many friends. But I came here to fall in love. And the thing is… I did.”
The image changes and it’s not footage of the mansion during the season finale anymore.
The footage is of us.
I sit upright, my eyes opening wide when I see myself on TV. I’m in the background, my hair a mess on top of my head, The Final Rose tee and shorts. The camera zooms in. I can’t hear what we are saying, but it’s clear we are laughing.
“I came to this experience with an open heart and ready for it to take me in any direction,” says his voiceover. “Again and again, life proves love is never predictable.”
The footage is endless. We are at the mini-golf course laughing and I’m fixing his tie.
We walk through the set, clearly arguing, my hands moving in all directions and he’s making a face.
Sebastian’s saying something silly on camera, but it pans to me and I’m laughing, holding my earpiece.
I’m sleeping with my head on his shoulder on an airplane seat.
“I know everyone is invested in this show. I’m truly grateful for the fans and all the support you have given The Final Rose, so that’s why I chose to tell the truth. This is real. I’m a real man who fell in love on a reality TV show.”
The bastard pulls all my heartstrings, and I make a sound that isn’t human. I feel myself shaking, having an experience outside my body.
“It wasn’t like I thought it was going to be, but life hardly is. I know this isn’t the finale you all wanted, but I’m asking you to bear with me and let me talk to the girl who stole my heart when she wasn’t even trying.”
On the TV we are in England now. It’s night and no one can even make the silhouettes of our bodies. But it’s clear when we kiss. I hold my breath, not sure how to react. I’m kissing on camera, but before I even react, Sebastian is back to the screen.
“Love, I know you never wanted something like this, but we deserved a grand finale. You taught me how to be unapologetically truthful, and this is what I am doing.”
I only realize I’m crying because Mom grips my shoulder and asks me not to cry. I hold my own words in my mouth with a shaky hand.
“You’re the only one for me, Callie. Hands down, you’re the one with the final rose.”
For the first time in the eleven years of The Final Rose , the episode ends suddenly. Fade out and the lettering appears.
“Sebastian Riggs will wait for his chosen one at the mansion.”
I gasp and stand up, the blanket falling from my shoulders. More lettering appears.
“Until she comes.”
“Oh, my god!” It’s the first thing I’ve said since the episode started.
It ends like always, with a line of credits and an upbeat song, but I’m rooted in the spot. I can’t move a muscle until a jingle of keys interrupts my thoughts.
Ben is over to the side, throwing his car keys up in the air and grabbing them with ease. He smirks at me. “I drive.”
“Great, let’s go.” Dario is unfolding from the couch, stretching his body.
“I—I–” I stutter.
But Mom grabs my arm and turns me toward her and Dad.
“You have to go.” she’s firm.
I want to ask if she’s disappointed. If she thinks it was wrong to let all that happen between Sebastian and me. She doesn’t let me talk, though.
“He sounds like he really loves you.”
Dad huffs, shaking his head. “Of course he does! What’s not to love? She’s Calliope Sosa.”
I don’t tell Dad it’s Sebastian’s name that’s the famous one. That he is the one who just had twelve women competing for his heart, and he has more money than any of us can understand. I don’t say any of it because he’s right.
What’s not to love?
“Let’s go, Callie. Traffic is a bitch this time.” Dario is hurrying me along.
“Language, Dario.” Mom tries just one more time.
“Mom, this is an extraordinary event!” he argues. “Don’t you get it? Callie is going to marry a millionaire! If I don’t get to swear now, when can I do it?”
“You can never swear.” Mom deadpans and my brother, honest to God, huffs and whines at her, “Mooooommm!”
I put my sneakers on and pull my hair into a ponytail while ignoring everything around me. In less than a minute, I’m out the door with Ben on my heels. I practically jog to the car and try to suppress the annoyance when Dario comes in and slides me to the middle of the bench.
“Do you need to come?”
He scoffs. “Of course!”
I’m going to reply, but Ben is already off to the road. “No fighting when I’m driving.” He puts down the rule.
“Don’t you start,” I complain.
I wish we could go faster. I wish we could fly the streets. My leg jumps up and down, and Dario smacks it.
“Tell us what you’re going to say to him.” Before I have the time to tell him I don’t know, he interrupts. “Unless it is dirty. Don’t tell us then.”
Ben growls, which it might mean he also doesn’t want to know.
“It’s not like I have prepared a speech.”
We stop in traffic, and Ben sighs at the road ahead. “You have a couple of hours to figure it out.”