“Jesus I’m so fucking sorry mate.” Callum says, staring at the ocean and tipping back his bourbon.
John runs a hand through his hair and shrugs it off. “I’ll let Anna tell you her bit, but I will say one thing. Her husband was abusive. She had a lot of shit to work out, so did I. And we needed to do it apart.” A cold wind blows off the water and John fills their glasses. “You like the bourbon?”
“I do,” Callum says draining his glass again. “I am so fucking sorry John. I had no idea.”
“You were dreaming, thinking you could kick my ass anyway.” John says with a sideways smile. He is starting to like Callum.
“Bullshit. I box. I play rugby. I could absolutely kick your ass.”
“You probably played soccer too,” John says with a smirk.
“Soccer,” Callum says through his nose, imitating the American pronunciation. “No such sport.”
“I figured the football versus American football debate was coming, but this is faster than expected,” John’s smile makes his green eyes shine. “So what are you doing here, Callum? International travel isn’t usually so spur of the moment.”
“Oh shit, I did sort of pop in. I didn’t mean to be an imposition.” Callum says, regretfully.
“No way, man. No imposition at all. You can stay all winter. See that house there,” John points over his shoulder to the blue house they call 517. It is next door to his own house, numbered 516. “That is ours too. It’s empty until summer. Want it?”
“Jesus that is a generous offer, John,” Callum says, surprised.
“Are you here to stay?” John asks.
Callum shrugs. “I seem to be without plans at the moment.”
“I have to be honest with you Callum. You look a lot like I did when I ran off to South America for all that time. It’s your business, but I’m asking anyway. Are you running?”
Callum looks out over the ocean for a long time. Again John is taken aback by how much he is like Anna.
“I fucked my partner’s wife. We owned the restaurant together. I’m saying I fucked her, but I was really completely in love with her. I don’t really do love. I’m more of the one and done sort. In a nutshell, I lost her and I’m fucking gutted.”
“He find out?” John asks without judgment.
“I told him,” Callum says and shares an ironic smile.
John knows enough. The whys and whens are Callum’s business. John rubs Callum’s shoulder and feels a lot like he’s sitting with his own brother, Brian.
The next morning Callum wakes up early to run. He is surprised to find John lacing his shoes on the front steps.
“Beach or streets?” John asks.
“Both. Let’s make it a long one,” Callum is sure he can beat whatever miles John can do.
They run four miles north on the beach, cut back to the streets and run another six. Their stride is about the same and they both go two or three miles longer than they would have gone if they were running alone. They are quiet, but their unspoken competition is a little fierce. They finish, exhausted, panting, covered in sweat and fall onto John’s front steps. Anna opens the door and leans against the door jamb with a proud smile, observing her men.
“Breakfast, my darling boys?” she asks.
“You cooking?” John asks. Anna doesn’t cook, but she bakes.
“Of course not. I did bake scones though. Callum will you cook for us?”
Callum is happy to cook as long as it isn’t in that damn kitchen he left behind. After a quick shower, he walks into John’s kitchen. John is an avid cook and gives Callum a tour of his well-stocked kitchen. Callum is impressed with the selection of professional grade knives, cutting boards, as well as fresh herbs and spices.
While John feeds Lynn in her high chair, Anna sits at the table watching her brother move masterfully through the kitchen. He chooses pans, checks the weight of a knife, and pulls what he wants from the refrigerator. He smells and tastes herbs before they warrant a spot on his cutting board. He dampens a towel and sets it under a silver mixing bowl to prevent sliding.
“I want to thank you for offering your house John. It is very generous.” Callum cracks eggs with his left hand and whisks with his right. “But I’ve decided to travel around a bit. I’d like to see some mountains and ski. I want to get to know America beyond the big east coast cities. I’m going west.”
“How long are you able to stay?” Anna asks.
Callum knows he should be honest with her. He feels like such an ass though. “I’m not going back for the immediate future Anna. I left the restaurant. I have some money put away, and Jeremy and Elizabeth are buying me out of the restaurant so I’ll have that check in a few weeks. I’m going to stay in the states for now. I don’t want to think about the future just yet.”
Anna smiles. “John and I have some experience with living in the present tense, Callum. We get it. What can we do for you?” Anna asks.
“I’d like to visit here for another few days and then I’ll head west. I’d like to take my time. I want to see St. Louis and Nashville and do some skiing. Maybe get to Salt Lake City.”
“Salt Lake?” Anna asks, enunciating the words more than necessary. “Where the Mormons live?”
“There’s a lot more than Mormons in Salt Lake City. Utah hosted the Olympics in 2002. It was really beautiful.” Callum says defensively, even though he makes this declaration completely on the spot. This plan is forming in his mind even as it flows from his mouth.
“All right then. It sounds wonderful,” Anna bites into the offered omelet. “This is fantastic,” she says, pointing her fork at the eggs.
“Will you consider coming to Austin for Christmas?” John asks. “My family is there and they’d love to meet you. Austin, Texas.” John says in case the location of Austin isn’t known the world over. “We’ll fly out there a few days before Christmas.”
That gives Callum almost four weeks to explore before he gets to Texas. He can fly from wherever he ends up if he doesn’t want to drive. “Sounds like a perfect plan. I’d enjoy meeting more Texans.” Callum laughs and feels better with a plan in place. My first Christmas with my sister.
Callum’s visit extends longer than he initially planned. He likes the pace of Anna and John’s Osprey Island life. They work, spend time with their kids and friends. They cook and play a lot of music. Callum thinks he needs to learn to play guitar to spend time with John and his friends. They are all musicians and good ones. Callum adores his nieces too. Every day Clara insists on a story from “Uncle Callie” and walks the beach with him, digging for shells. He finds this uncle thing to be surprisingly enjoyable.
Spending time with Clara, Lynn is still a little unresponsive, makes Callum think about all he is missing and all that he is going to miss. Every time he thinks about Elizabeth, which is all of the time, the hole through him is so big that he can only feel regret and pain. He questions every decision. He wonders why he got involved with her in the first place. She isn’t the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. She is lovely, but that is about it. Her body is definitely top notch, though. She was always in charge which he detested before he was fucking her. She was a bit of a know-it-all too. He didn’t really like how she ran the restaurant.
Still one day, almost a year ago, he held her against the wall in dry storage and wall fucked her brains out. Why? He wasn’t in love with her or pining after her, but after he wall fucked her, he couldn’t get enough of her.
Walking the beach alone one evening, Callum really tries to be honest with himself about why he started it. Was I just bored? The bloom had rather faded from the rose of having a successful restaurant. Initially the satisfaction alone fed him. For years it fed him. The minor celebrity status he enjoyed in London was fantastic, but the hours and commitment were enormous. He had a selection of numbers to call day or night for a quick lay. He prowled the bars after closing a few times a week when he wanted to meet someone new, but that was it.
Fucking is fant
astic but approaching thirty, suddenly everyone is getting married and there are babies everywhere. It can start to feel, not so much hollow as, less fulfilling. Elizabeth made everything come alive for Callum. Colors were brighter, food tasted more intense. Coming to work, meant coming at work. The lying and hiding. It was exciting as hell. And then the excitement and the game became more. He didn’t want to share her with Jeremy any more.
Callum suddenly imagined a different life for himself. Instead of a bed in a room in a flat he didn’t own, maybe a house. He shared a place with Jeremy and Elizabeth. It made sense when they were just starting out, but it never seemed the right time to leave… until he wanted his own home, with Elizabeth. There could be curtains and a garden. He could plant herbs and Elizabeth could grow roses. They could light a fire in a fireplace, the wood kind, no remote controlled gas thingy. They could make babies. He could be a daddy. He would be a wonderful daddy.
But Elizabeth enjoyed the sharing. She didn’t want to give up Jeremy. So Callum finally told Jeremy one day over a scotch at the bar of their restaurant after closing. Callum said his piece very matter of fact and he gave Jeremy one free punch. Callum took a decent hit to the jaw. Callum isn’t entirely sure how, but it all fucking backfired. Now Jeremy and Elizabeth are happier than ever and Callum is an outcast.
After four days, he realizes he needs to move on. He’s having trouble stifling his anger and depression. His stiff upper lip is going soft, with too much drink and not enough activity. Idle hands make for… whatever. He wonders if Elizabeth is pregnant already. She and Jeremy will be quick to make their marriage-saving baby. The thought of Jeremy’s hands on her makes Callum want to scream and then it makes him want to touch himself.
On the last morning, Callum loads his bag into the Jeep and says goodbyes in the driveway.
“John, I’ve decided that I’ll love you like a brother,” Callum says and John picks him up for a very unmanly hug. Callum feels that John is the perfect match for Anna and his initial reservations are all gone.
When John finally sets him down, Callum says, “I’ve also decided not to shave or cut my hair because I like your look, John. You define forty-year-old American cool.”
“Go fuck yourself,” John says with a smile. “I define cool at any age. I guess we’ll see you at Christmas with a beard and a little more hair. We’ll look like brothers,” John rubs Callum’s short spikes and Callum kisses John’s checks only because John doesn’t see it coming.
“No surprise that John has another fan. He has that effect on people,” Anna hugs her brother tight. “My god, spending time with you has been wonderful. Just wonderful.”
Callum just smiles at Anna because he is feeling those emotions he isn’t used to feeling. She smiles back and smooths his check with her hand. Words aren’t always necessary.
Callum takes Clara into one arm and Lynn into the other, doing that fake I’m going to drop you thing to Clara that moms hate. Anna just laughs.
“Again Uncle Callie, again!” Clara screeches and Callum complies.
“I have never been called Callie in my life. Less than a week in America and I have a nickname and I like it, too.” He kisses cheeks again, climbs into the Wrangler and drives off, watching John pull Anna close to his side, wondering if he could have had that with Elizabeth if he’d kept his fucking mouth shut.
Two
Callum spends exactly three minutes familiarizing himself with Utah using Google on his mobile. He decides to head toward Park City instead of Salt Lake. Park City because it looks cooler and the webpage shows Aaron Paul eating in a restaurant there during the Sundance Film Festival. The only television show Callum has watched in the last six years is Breaking Bad. One night he was up late recovering from a marvelous blow job. After Callum shooed the waitress out the door, he flipped around the channels and landed on a season one, episode one, late night re-broadcast. The characters’ misuse of the concept of cooking fascinated him. He bookmarks the photo to make sure he sits in the same seat as Aaron Paul.
With the Expedia app, he finds a resort called Red Canyons that sits on the side of a mountain. Nice but not extravagant. He hates the assholes at extravagant resorts. Google Maps tells him the drive is 2,203 miles and should take about thirty-two hours of driving. He maps out a rough schedule and chooses fun cities to visit along a mostly direct route — Asheville, Nashville, St. Louis, Kansas City, Denver and Cheyenne. He plans for six to eight hours of driving a day.
The Wrangler has a good heater and he is glad for it. Despite the cold, he wants some damn fresh air and drives most of the time with the windows open. Driving west to Asheville through the mountains, the sky is so blue that it looks fake after years of living in the city. The evergreens make a colorful tree line despite the time of the year. A light dusting of snow coats the grass. White clouds circle the mountain tops.
When Callum drives into the city, he circles around until he finds a nice looking hotel with a bar and then he moves on to the next hotel where he parks, unloads his bag, and checks in for one night. A hot, long shower soothes his stiff muscles and he regrets not taking a run before the shower. A good run would help take this edge off. Instead, he lets the water run and uses his hand to take the edge off.
Remembering the top of Elizabeth’s head as she sat between his knees gets him started. She could do wonderful things with her mouth. She would spread her hair over his thighs before she devoured him. After the shower, he is more frustrated than before. He decides to run in the morning but now is time to tend to other needs.
He dresses in straight black jeans, a surprisingly crisp white shirt (he packs well) and a gray jacket. He slips on black shoes and his Tag Heurer watch before checking himself in the mirror. His blue eyes pass over his reflection with a look of approval and more than a touch of arrogance. He looks good and he knows it. His skin is unmarred by any imperfection. Cheek bones are high and help him exude an air of confidence that men of less height and looks cannot achieve. He slides a wallet, mobile and key into his pocket and heads to the hotel next door.
The walk is less than a block, uphill, past an alley with extraordinary paintings covering the brick. Callum stops and stares, wondering where the difference lies between graffiti and art. Are paintings like this a menace or a welcome contribution to the local color of Asheville?
The block gives him some distance, some privacy. He isn’t interested in an overnighter. Callum finds the hotel lounge easily and takes a seat at the bar. He orders a double McClellands, straight up. These Americans and their ice. The bar is modern, lots of grays and metal accented with dark woods and lime yellows, hot pinks and rich teals. A denim dressed woman strums an acoustic guitar and sings an old James Taylor song. Callum sits comfortably in a tall chair and surveys the other patrons at the bar.
Married woman, who want to fuck strangers, sit at the bar not at tables with their girlfriends. He isn’t interested in single women. He’ll take an attractive, married, older, even slightly heavier woman, over a single, young hottie every time. Married woman are a fuckload more enthusiastic with their mouths and don’t act like you owe them something for getting a glimpse at their pert young tits. They are also less complicated. There is no What’s your phone number? Follow me on Twitter, bullshit. Just a fuck. All he wants is a damn fuck.
He downs the scotch and thinks he probably should have eaten something. He’ll get this going quick and then grab a burger back at the hotel. A cheeseburger and fries. Simple American food will be just the thing. He taps the rim of his glass with his index finger and the bartender fills it immediately. Tall, handsome men get better service than the rest of the world. He surveys his options. There are six women sitting at the large bar. Two are together so he counts them out. Four are alone. Two are within his preferred age range, attractive and wearing wedding rings. One is texting and seems to be watching the door so he sets his eyes on the other. Sipping dark red wine, she is more than adequately attractive. Dark hair is piled on top of her head with
strategically placed curls hanging down in front of her ears and framing both sides of her face. Dark eyes are lined in brown but not heavily. Her dark lipstick will look good on his dick. He guesses her age to be early to mid-forties. No crow’s feet or laugh lines show, but there is a confidence to her that doesn’t come for most women until after forty. He likes confident woman but not for too long. Sitting back, relaxing in his seat, Callum decides she is the one.
Before the minute Callum takes to assess her has passed, she seems to feel his eyes on her. She has done this before and points to the empty seat next to hers with mascaraed lashes. He picks up his drink but not the napkin under it and makes his way around the bar. Callum sits at her side and the bartender lies a clean cocktail napkin as Callum places his drink on the bar, on the fresh white napkin. It is almost a well-rehearsed dance.
“Hello,” is all Callum says. She uncrosses slender but shapely legs, turning to face him. She lets her knees fall to either side of his.
She says nothing in return. She sips her wine and appraises him, silently approving with a smile. Callum knows women like her have a lot to lose from evenings like these, even if she is far from home. He lets her assess his worth silently, knowing he’ll come out on top of any equation.
“I’m…” he starts.
“No need,” she stops him.
All the better. “Very well then,” Callum drains his second double and turns to his new, nameless friend. She has a great mouth. She looks like a woman up for a challenge. She leans in to hear his low voice and to give him a glimpse down her shirt. Bras are for less determined women.
“I’ll tell you what, luv, I’m going to let you blow me. If I like it, I’ll give you the best fuck of your life. If not, we’ll say goodnight.” Nothing like a little motivation to get things going. He figures he has a fifty-fifty shot she’ll slap him and move on. There are other fish.
She continues to study him with a savvy smile. “You are a bad one, aren’t you? You have a room here?” He shakes his head. “Mine then.” She places a key in his lap, taking a feel of the merchandise he is offering. “Give me ten minutes.” She leaves him to pay her tab and walks straight to the elevator, no looking back.
Forever Falling Page 2