Calling California

by J. P. Grider

  "Uh, truthfully, I have no idea." I kick back the rest of the rum in my mug. "I gotta check on Dad. I'll be right back."

  From the foot of Dad's bed, I can see he's sleeping, so I take the time to really look at him. Even in his sleep, he does not look peaceful. His breathing is labored and his body is restless. With an apprehensive step, I go to my dad's side and sit on the edge of his bed, holding his limp hand between my two. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I whisper. For several more minutes I sit holding my dad's hand, apologizing mutely over and over to my dad. I'm sorry, Daddy, that you're sick. I'm sorry, Daddy, that I avoid you. I'm sorry, Daddy, that I don't know how to talk to you anymore. Or how to accept this. Or even how to deal with it. I'm so sorry, Daddy, that I can't stop you from dying.

  "Cal. You okay?"

  Wiping my eyes quickly with my fingertips, I stand from the bed. "Yeah, Tab. Just checking on him. Want something to eat?"

  "Like what?"

  "Sandwich? Chicken Spread or Deviled Ham."

  "Eww, Cali, that canned shit with the picture of the devil on it? What the fuck you doing eating that shit?"

  "It's either that or peanut butter and jelly. It's cheap." I pull the loaf of bread off the top of the fridge and put it on the table.

  Tabitha starts cracking up. I mean, deep from the belly, roaring laughter.

  "What the fuck's so funny?" I ask, spreading peanut butter on two slices of bread.

  "Your life. You're right. It sucks."

  I continue with making the sandwiches, spreading the jelly on the other two slices of bread, when I start cracking up along with her. Yeah my life sucks. So instead of wallowing in self-pity, I'm laughing about it. Thanks to Tabitha.

  We bring our sandwiches and two glasses of milk into my room and finish watching The Breakfast Club.

  "Thanks for the milk and Captain Morgan, Cal. Goes good together," she jokes.

  "Shut up."

  "What's with the dead plant still in your window?"

  "My mom bought it for me, and I don’t know, I haven't watered it."

  "Uh, yeah, got that. Why don't you just toss it?"

  I shrug. "I don't know. Haven't gotten around to it." Leaning back against my headboard again, I close my eyes.

  "Tired, Cal?"

  "Little bit. Yeah."

  "'Kay. Mind if I stay up and watch another movie? I'm not ready to go to sleep yet."

  "Knock your socks off," is the last thing I remember saying before falling off to sleep.

  24

  Griffin

  "Have you ever been to Frank's on Belmont Ave?"

  Crossing her long, bare legs at the ankles in the front seat of my car, California chuckles. "You mean the restaurant attached to the liquor store? Across the street from Donny's?"

  "Yeah. That's funny?"

  She lets out another small laugh. "No, not really. I mean, yes, I've been to the liquor store there, no, I haven't been to Frank's, and no, it's not funny," she says, giggling still.

  "Then why are you laughing?" I'm smiling along with her.

  "Truthfully, I don't know. It just struck me funny is all."

  "Why? 'Cause it's right up the street?" I ask, passing Frank's by at the same time I ask.

  "Um, you just passed it. Aren't we going there?" Cali uncrosses her legs and looks at me.

  Sneaking a side glance at her - well at her legs first, since her gray mini-skirt is riding up, then I look at her face - I smirk, "Not when you're laughing at it."

  She slaps her hands on those luscious thighs. "Oh my God, Griffin, I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing because you were taking me there. I didn't mean it like..."

  "California." I sneak another glance and lay my hand on top of hers. "I'm teasing." Turning my attention back to the road, I make a left up Pompton Road. "Yes, I was thinking of bringing you there, but then I changed my mind."

  "But..."

  I put up my hand. "Not because you were laughing. I just thought of another place, that's all."

  A little more than an hour later, after a fifteen minute drive and a forty-five minute wait, we are sitting in a corner booth at Outback Steakhouse drinking our beverages - Cali, a Coke, me, a beer. "I figured since you ordered a burger both times we ate out that you were a meat eater, so...I hope it's okay we came here."

  "Of course," she says joyfully. "I love a big juicy steak. Thank you. For taking me."

  "And like I said, I asked you out on the date, so I pay."

  Her finger circles her Coke glass. "Okay, so next time, I'll ask you out, and I'll pay."

  Her eyebrows are reaching her hairline, and she's giving me an "I ain't foolin' around" expression with her face. Like, her lips are pursed and her face is stretched, and she's making me afraid to contradict her.

  "Fine. Next time, if you ask me, I'll let you pay. But let me ask you something."

  "Sure," she says, so unaware.

  "I'd like to take you out every day and night for the rest of your life. Are you available?"

  Sucking in her breath, she scolds me. "That was so not fair, Griffin Brooks. That was...that was...that was just plain sneaky." Cali puts on an angry face, but I know it's fake, because she is trying to keep the corners of her mouth from riding up by pulling her lips in.

  "I said you can trust me. I never said I wasn't sneaky." Of course I hope she realizes I'm joking.

  "Ha, ha. Very funny," she retorts with a smile.

  "In all seriousness, Calista," and I say her real name so she knows how serious I am, "I like you a lot, and I like paying for things for you. And it's not going to stop with dinners or coffee. If I see something that reminds me of you, or I see something that I know you like, I'm going to want to buy it for you. That's just the way I am. So please. Please. Don't think I'm doing it because you can't afford it. I'm doing it because I want to show you that I care for you. Can you accept that?"

  Cali sits back against the booth and sighs, staring right into my eyes but not saying anything.

  "Cali?"

  "That's going to be difficult for me," she says softly.

  "Why?" Leaning forward, I reach out my hands so she'll take them in hers.

  She doesn't hesitate putting her hands inside mine. "Because. It makes me feel inferior, because I can't do the same for you."

  "But I don't want you to."

  "But, Griffin, you don't understand. Growing up poor with very proud parents, I've learned that someone always wants something in return, and if they don't, they are just feeling sorry for you. My parents would never allow anyone to feel sorry for them. They'd rather do without."

  "But I don't feel sorry for you. I'm actually in awe of you."

  She shakes her head. "What? Of me? You're crazy."

  "Really, California." She blushes every time. "You are strong. Independent. You, my dear, are the hardest working person I know, as well as the kindest. There is not a bone in my body that feels sorry for you. No way."

  Her blush turns into a full-on blooming. She uses her hand to cover that she's smiling so hard.

  "And remember. I can't lie to you. I promised. So you know I'm telling you the truth."

  When her shoulders relax and her face returns to just a pale pink, her smile becomes more subtle. "Thank you," she whispers, wiping at a tear that I don't see.

  "Hey, Cal?" The waiter comes by to take our orders, so I put off my question.

  When Cali's done ordering the six ounce sirloin and sweet potato fries and I'm finished ordering the large baby back ribs, I draw in a breath to talk to Cali again.

  "So, Cal, if I'm crossing a line, tell me to shut the fuck up, but..." How do I put this without offending her? "You mentioned that your parents were proud and would rather go without, but..." I hesitate, afraid of her reaction, but she's sitting there with a small smile on her face and I figure that's the go-ahead to continue. "But I remember you saying that first day we spoke in class that...well that..."

  She's biting her lip now, and I just want to take back that I even started saying anything
.

  I squeeze her hand lovingly. "Um, okay, here's the thing. You mentioned that day that...well, rich people...well they don't...okay..."

  "What?" She lets go of my hands. "What are you trying to say?"

  "I'm sorry, Cal. I'm just trying to get a clearer picture of who you are...and...I'm not doing a good job." Rubbing the back of my neck, I'm wishing I could turn the clock back a couple minutes.

  "Griffin," Cali says quietly. "Remind me what I said that first day. I don't remember."

  I tilt my head and reach for her hands again. She lets me hold them. "You said us poor people have to stick together, not like those rich people who don't help out anyone."

  "I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "I didn't mean you, Griffin, and I didn't mean all..."

  "No, Calista, I'm not talking about wanting an apology. You said before that your parents were proud. They'd rather go without, so why would you say rich people don't help out, if you wouldn't accept the help anyway." She pulls her lips in again, this time without a concealed smile. "And I'm just needing to know more about you because I like you so much. I swear," I let go of her hands to hold mine up in defense, "I'm not judging."

  She laughs. Cali laughs. This is good. "Actually. I remember saying that. I was talking about the people who have screwed over my parents. My dad's boss who fired him after he got sick, and wouldn't help him out with the medical bills because he made him sign that God-forsaken contract." She pauses to take a sip of her soda. "And my mom's boss who used to make her work every Christmas Eve, and then for no apparent reason, stopped her from working Christmas Eve, but gave her no bonus or anything extra on Christmas." Cali closes her eyes and drinks her soda again. "I guess her job on Christmas Eve helped to buy us presents, because even though I didn't get gifts on Christmas day, my mom would take me shopping the day after Christmas and buy me some toys I wanted. Then she stopped working on Christmas Eve and the presents stopped."

  I am bewildered. "Santa didn't bring you presents?" I mean, obviously I know Santa didn't bring her presents, but didn't anyone pretend Santa was real for her?

  "No," she says with her head down. "My parents made it clear from the beginning that Santa wasn't real."

  Her voice sounds so sad it makes my heart break. "I'm so sorry, Calista."

  She smacks my hand. "Stop, Griff. I'm a big girl now. I'm over the whole Santa thing."

  I grab her hands and kiss them.

  "So, your turn. Tell me something about Griffin Brooks that I don't know." Letting go of one of my hands, she takes another sip of her soda.

  "Okay. Well. My dad died when I was one. My mom remarried a year later, giving me a new father and a brother three years older than me."

  "Wow. Is he your only sibling?"

  "No. I have two younger sisters. Jenna and Candace."

  The waiter again interrupts us to bring us our dinner, so Cali and I stop talking for a few minutes to start eating.

  "Mmm. This steak melts in my mouth," Cali sings.

  Watching her enjoying something as small as a steak pleases me as much as it hurts me. I've been so sheltered all my life that I'd no idea there were people out there who couldn't even enjoy Christmas...or a steak regularly. My feelings for Cali must run deeper than I think, because suddenly, I'm fighting back the urge to cry.

  Forcing myself to eat my ribs, I try to concentrate on how succulent they are, instead of how sad I am for Cali. This...after telling her I didn't feel sorry for her.

  But I swear I did not lie when I told her that before. It's just a feeling that popped up out of nowhere. That...and the fact that out of the blue I'm making a silent vow to myself to give her the best of everything. The best of myself.

  25

  Cali

  "So...you really think you're ready to meet my family?" Griffin warns.

  "Of course. Why wouldn't I be ready?" I pull down Griffin's sun visor to look in the mirror and reapply my lip gloss.

  "Well, I don't know, but I've never taken a girl home before, so maybe..."

  Abruptly, I stop fussing with myself and turn toward Griffin. "You never?"

  Keeping his eyes on the road, he shakes his head. "Never."

  I snap the visor up and I'm all at once aware of the rapid flapping going on in my stomach. "Uh. Maybe on, uh, second thought...maybe another..."

  Griffin's hand is suddenly on my leg. Now I don't only have nervous fluttering because I'm about to meet his parents, but his touch is sending tingles from my bare thigh to up north. Just like it did when he touched me in the car on the way to Outback.

  He keeps driving, his eyes on the road, his hand still on my leg, but he looks pensive. "Griffin," I mutter. "We can wait you know. Maybe I'm not ready."

  My mind races with the image of shaking his fancy restaurant parents' hands and holding a conversation with them - most likely Republicans. How can I share any type of dialogue with them when my parents made it clear that Republicans were what was wrong with this world? My forehead sweats. "Griffin. No."

  At a red light, Griffin looks at me. "I want to do this, Cali. I'm ready for a real relationship, and I want you to meet my mom." His words are chopped, like he is just as nervous as I am, but his eyes show determination. This is something he needs to do.

  "Your mom? Not your dad? I mean your step-dad?"

  When Griffin squeezes my leg, I get dizzy. "It's okay, Cal, I call him Dad. He's the only one I really knew. Anyway, he's probably not home. He's at the restaurant every night."

  "So, I'll only be meeting your mom?" My queasiness seems to settle, but since Griffin's fingers are now softly tickling my leg, my head remains dizzy.

  "Probably my sisters too. They're only thirteen and ten, so I'm sure they're not going to be out."

  Okay. I can do this. "What about your brother?"

  "He runs the other restaurant, plus he doesn't live home anymore. So, no, you won't be meeting him either."

  Placing my hand on top of his, I run my finger up and down the back of his hand.

  "You okay with that, babe?"

  Babe. I close my eyes and try to steady my rapidly increasing breath.

  "Calista?" And when he calls me by my whole name, I'm quickly realizing that he is trying to be super serious.

  "I'm okay with it." His hand is warm and thick when I apply pressure to it. He turns his hand around to hold mine.

  "You sure?" He continues searching my eyes for the truth.

  "I'm sure. Light's green."

  Bringing our clasped hands to his lips, he kisses them. "I'm sure too."

  Holy. Shit.

  His house is huge.

  We pull into the long stone-paved driveway at the end of the cul-de-sac. It's like driving up to a country club. The entire house is covered in dark brown stone. There are five peaks and three chimneys, and that's just from what I can see out here in the front.

  "Cali?" I'm so awe-struck that I hadn't even realized Griffin had opened my car door and was holding out his hand to help me out.

  "Holy shit, Griffin," I say when I'm out of the car. "You're house looks like a mansion."

  "Yeah well." He looks embarrassed.

  "Don't be embarrassed by it. It's...It's great. It's beautiful."

  He wraps his arm around my waist and walks me up the front steps. "It's fairly new. My parents just had it built last year."

  Griffin pulls out a key and unlocks the massive front door.

  "You didn't live here all your life then?"

  The foyer is bigger than my whole apartment. White glossy tiles with black diamond shapes strategically placed throughout adorn the entire front room and lead up to an immense circular staircase. The glass chandelier hanging in the center of the room is larger than my kitchen table.

  "We just moved in about nine months ago," Griffin responds, answering the question I asked what seemed like ages ago. "We lived a few streets up before that."

  He tosses his keys on the marble table that sits beneath the staircase and takes my hand. "Th
ey're probably in the family room."

  A wrought iron gate greets us at the kitchen doorway. When Griffin opens it, we step into a granite-covered kitchen. I mean the counters, the floor, even the vast island slash tabletop is covered in granite. Not that I really ever saw granite up close and personal, but from what I remember of the demo kitchens that boasted of granite counter tops that sat in the center of the mall, this kitchen was plastered with it.

  "Mom?" Griffin calls.

  "In here, Griff."

  We step down two steps into another mega-room.

  "Griffin." A tall thin woman slides off the large black leather sectional to come greet us. "Hello," she says to me, holding out her hand for me to shake. "I'm Mary, Griffin's mom."

  With a firm shake of our hands, I say, "I'm Cali. It's nice to meet you."

  "Mom," Griffin's hand goes back to my lower back, "Cali is my girlfriend."

  His mother's jaw drops and two dark-haired girls that I hadn't noticed were in the room pop up out of nowhere. "No way. Griffin has a girlfriend?" The taller of the two asks on her way from all the way across the gigantic room to greet us. Like a bitchy young teenager would, she looks me up and down. "No way."

  "Stop being the bitch that you are, Jenna." Griffin looks at me. "These are my sisters. The bitch you just met is Jenna and this sweet little thing is Candace. We call her Candy for short."

  "Hi," Candy says quietly.

  "Hi. Nice to meet you. All of you," I say, looking at his mother and her daughters.

  "Let me get you something to eat," his mother says, walking up into the kitchen, pulling out a couple of black iron-slatted stools for us.

  "We just ate, Mom," Griffin informs her, but still signals me to sit before sitting himself.

  While his mother ignores him and rummages through her refrigerator anyway, I whisper to Griffin, "What's her last name so I know what to call her?"

  "Mary. She likes to be called Mary."

  "What's that, dear?" she asks, pulling out a white bakery box and closing the refrigerator.