Calling California

by J. P. Grider

  Dad goes back to the bar and pours himself a double. "Ellie wanted to put the baby up for adoption. I mean, at first, she thought we'd get married and, well, you know, but I didn't love her. Not like that. And I had plans. She wasn't part of those plans. So...I offered to keep Nathan, under the condition that she relinquishes any rights."

  "So why keep all that a secret from Mom? I mean couldn't you have told her when she was adopting him?"

  "Because Ellie worked for me. I promised Ellie that even though Nathan Junior would not be hers, I wouldn't keep her away from him. She wanted to be able to watch her baby grow up, and so this was how we guaranteed that she would. We signed a legal contract that said she would always have a job with me... unless she broke the contract by telling Nathan she was his mother."

  "Still, why keep it from my mother?" My father rubs his temples, clearly distressed by all my questions, while my mother is now holding her own head in her hands.

  "I'd bring Nathan into the restaurant just so Ellie could see him.. As he got older, I continued bringing him.. When he was old enough, I gave him his own restaurant and sent Ellie along with him so that she could continue to spend time with him. Of course, Nathan never knew why.”

  "Dad. You haven't answered my fucking question."

  "Watch your mouth, Griffin."

  "Why did you keep it all from Mom in the beginning?"

  "Because he was still fucking her, Griffin," my mother croaks, her voice hoarse and strained as she confesses to the adultery that my father wouldn't admit to.

  My father glares at my mother.

  "Oh, like he wasn't figuring it out," my mother says, fed up with the whole conversation.

  "It all stopped after that party, Griffin, I swear." My father finally comes clean. Sort of.

  "Mom?" I look to my mother for substantiation. "Is this true?"

  "Yes," she admits. "That's why she stopped coming on Christmas Eve. And he promised me. I believed him."

  Then it sinks in. Cali's mother was having an affair too. And oh my fucking stars, she will be devastated to know the truth.

  The look on my face must give away my thoughts, because my father says, "Now, Griffin, don't go getting any ideas. You are not to tell this girl any of this. If Ellie had wanted her to know, she would have told her. And last time I had talked to Ellie about this, she hadn't told her. Nor did she tell her husband. So don't..."

  "No. I'm not lying to her. No. I can't. This is fucked up. This is... Shit." I get up and start pacing the floor. "I'm not starting out this relationship with secrets. I won't do it."

  "Griffin. Relationship? C'mon already. You know as well as I do she won't even be in your life next month. You're going to mess up two families for a girl you're going to dump in a week?"

  "I'm not dumping her in a week, and I am telling her." I grab my keys off the island and head for the exit.

  But not before my father grabs me by the arm. "I promise you, Griffin. I will cut you off."

  I ignore my father's threat. "I'll give you until Sunday night to tell Nate. After that... Calista is going to know the truth."

  Without looking back, I walk out of the house and numbly head for my car. But I'll be goddamned if my father's secrets are going to ruin what I have with Calista.

  41

  Griffin

  My father has me so riled that I go to the garage. Tinkering with my car will be much more therapeutic than going home to a house filled with the usual Friday night crowd. No way am I in the mood to see a bunch of drunken house mates and their guests.

  Instead, I unlock Joey's garage, put on a full pot of coffee, and start prepping my car to paint. After removing the chrome and door handles, I begin the exhilarating task of sanding the car down to its bare metal. Exhilarating for me, of course, because I have been waiting months to get to this part of the restoration. Every other thought slips from my mind as I concentrate on keeping my hand pressure even, while holding the media blaster steady. Several cups of coffee and one door panel later, Joey walks in, breaking my concentration and opening the flood gates for all the painful thoughts of the secrets I'm not supposed to share with Cali.

  "What are you doing here?" Joey asks, heading straight for the coffee maker and pouring the last of the pot into his mug.

  "Couldn't sleep. You don't mind, do you?"

  "No of course not. You're my best friend. Why would I mind? I'm just surprised Mr. Party Boy isn't sleeping off a hangover."

  "The hangover I got," I deadpan. "Haven't slept since Thursday though."

  "What is it? Girl trouble?"

  "Not in the sense you're thinking."

  "Well what am I thinking? Did your current girl find out you were cheating on her or something?"

  Running both my hands through my hair, I lean against my sanded car door. "No. Nothing like that."

  "What then?"

  "I can't talk about it. You want coffee? Real coffee? Not this mud shit we keep making." I walk over to Joe's desk to get my keys when I remember - I can't take it out now that I started sanding it.

  "Why? You going?"

  "Yeah. Can I take your car?"

  "Sure. But what are you going to do for the week? You gonna take the bimmer out?"

  "Yeah. Besides, I'm not going anywhere all weekend. As long as you don't mind, I'd like to work here."

  "No. Not at all."

  "I need to sand all weekend."

  "Whatever you want, Griff."

  "Thanks."

  "Here's the keys."

  "Be right back."

  I'm inside Dunkin' Donuts getting coffee when I see her.

  "Griffin." Her smile is tentative, probably wondering why I never answered her texts.

  "California?" I say, trying to keep the worry from my voice. "What are you doing here so early?"

  Her face drops. "That's it?"

  "I don't...I don't understand," I tell her, then turn to the clerk, "another large with milk, please. Oh. And a chocolate chip muffin." Turning back to Cali, I ask, "That is what you were getting, right?"

  With a shift of her feet and an annoyed look on her face, she says, "Yeah, that's what I was getting."

  After paying for our stuff, I lay my hand pleadingly on Cali's arm, "Can we talk a sec?"

  She looks around and sees a line of people behind her. I get a nod in response.

  "Over here." I gesture to a corner table by the window.

  Because she seems so reluctant to sit, I appeal to her earnestly. "Cali? I'm sorry I didn't text you or call you yesterday."

  Her eyes probe mine...for the truth, I suspect.

  "Really, I'm sorry. Please. Please sit."

  "I gotta be to work soon, so..."

  "I won't take long," again, I beg.

  Holding her cup tight in one hand, her muffin bag clutched in the other, Cali looks ready to flee.

  "Cali...I...I'm going through...a family issue right now and I can't talk about it, but I promise I will share it with you when I can. I... I was too upset to talk yesterday. I really am sorry."

  She loosens her clasp on her bag and puts it down. Her coffee cup follows. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

  Amused and insulted at the same time, I have to ask. "What conclusions did you jump to?"

  "Well that...maybe you... maybe you were done with me. I don't know. Maybe I wasn't that good in bed or something or I was just too poor."

  Cupping her wrist, I slide my hand down to her hand. "Oh, Calista. You were wonderful in bed," I whisper, looking around to make sure no one heard me. "Truly amazing. And I don't give a shit that you're poor. Please don't ever think that. Ever."

  My heart leaps when she flashes me a genuine smile.

  "Really, Cali. It's a family issue." I slide my thumb back and forth on her tiny wrist. Her skin is so soft. So badly do I want to tell her about Nate. So badly. Lying to her is taking the breath right out of me.

  Swallowing my urge to blurt out the truth, I promise, "As soon as I'm allowed to tell
you. I will. I promise, California. I do not want anything coming between us. Nothing."

  "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I'm such a jerk," She says, dropping her head and mumbling into her coffee cup when she pops the lid to take a sip.

  "What? I couldn't..."

  "I'm a jerk," she says looking back up. "I thought...I thought you were on to your next girl..." Cali's face turns red.

  "Well...my reputation isn't the best, but I promise. Those days are done. Since meeting you, Calista, I haven't even looked at another girl."

  I turn to liquid when her eyes and mouth curve up simultaneously in delight.

  "Thank you," she whispers.

  Though I've smoothed out the immediate tension, I'm still sick with the notion that our problems are far from over. But I try to push those thoughts to the side to ask her out on a date. "I'm... uh... working on my car all day, but can I see you tonight?"

  "Yeah. I'd like that," she says, still beaming.

  While I want to throw up.

  "How 'bout a movie?" I suggest, figuring there would be less talking we'd have to do - less chance for me to betray my mother's wishes and tell Calista before she and my dad have a chance to tell Nate.

  "A movie sounds good," Cali says. "I should be going though, Griff. I needed to be at work, like, five minutes ago."

  "Sure." I wait for her to grab her muffin and coffee, then lead her out the door, my hand, generating electric currents, pressed firmly on her back.

  "Where's your car?" She spans the lot for my Olds.

  "At the shop. I got Joey's."

  "Oh," she says, standing at her car door. "That's why I didn't see it when I came in."

  I put the tray of coffee on the roof of her car and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her to my chest and planting a deep kiss right on her mouth. She groans mid-kiss, and I'm immediately horny. "After the movie, come to my place?" I murmur into her mouth, already knowing I need to bury myself deep inside her.

  "Yeah."

  After a reluctant end to our kiss, I inadvertently blurt, "God, you're hot."

  She chuckles, but gets into her car. "I'm really late. See you tonight."

  "Later, California." I grab the coffee from her roof and watch her pull away, smiling at the thought of seeing her tonight, but nauseous upon waiting for the hammer to fall.

  42

  Cali

  "What do you mean you don't like Julia-Lewis Dreyfus? I think she's great," Cali notes while we walk out of the movie theater.

  "Yeah, well you would," Griffin says as he bumps my arm with his elbow before taking my hand.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I bump his arm with my shoulder.

  "I don't know what it means. I did like that Soprano guy though."

  "Yeah. It's too bad he died though, right? What a shame."

  He opens the car door for me and I get into his BMW. "Yeah."

  "Enough Said was pretty good, don't you think?" I ask before he shuts my door.

  "Eh." Rounding the back of his car, he gets in and continues, "It was all right. It was a chick-flick."

  I chuckle and push an errant curl behind my ear. "So whose car is this anyway? Since you had me mesmerized by Robert Plant's voice before, I never did get to ask."

  He shifts the car in reverse and worries his bottom lip before he says, "Um. Mine. My parents bought it for me when I graduated high school."

  "Oh wow. Is this another $50,000 car?" I mock, still amazed at the amount of disposable income his family has.

  "No. No not at all. I think it cost him about ten or eleven. That's the going rate anyway." He says, nervously tapping the steering wheel.

  "Oh is that all? Why did he buy you the other one then?" Jealousy builds and then chokes me. Griffin can buy anything he wants...with his father's money anyway, and I have to give my paycheck over to my mother.

  Griffin clears his throat and, glancing quickly at me, says, "He bought me the Olds as an investment. He knew I always wanted to restore my own car, so he bought it for me. The twenty-oh-two was a gift. It came already restored."

  "The twenty-oh-two? This car looks older than a two-thousand-two."

  Griffin laughs. "Twenty-oh-two (2002) is the name of the model. This car is a nineteen-seventy." Griffin continues cracking up.

  And now I feel stupid.

  And angry.

  "Excuse me for not knowing what model your fucking car is." My breathing picks up and, crossing my arms in front of me, I silently fume.

  He widens his eyes and clutches his steering wheel so tight, I see his knuckles whiten. Griffin is surprised and upset by my reaction. "No, Cali. That's not..." He sighs. His eyes go from me to the road and back, like, a hundred times. "Oh, Cali. I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing because you didn't know about the car..." He runs his hand through his hair. "I just thought it was cute."

  I stay silent, keeping my focus on the windshield in front of me.

  "I really am sorry."

  The night took a turn, and when we reach Haledon, I'm not so sure if Griffin is taking me to his house or back to my apartment. I'm not even sure I want to go back to his house if he's going to burst out laughing every time I don't understand something from his universe.

  "Can I still take you back to my place?" He asks turning onto the main street. "Or..."

  I don't respond, still unsure what I really want.

  He continues up towards his house, but when he reaches it, he pulls up front along the sidewalk instead of in the driveway. With the engine still running, Griffin puts the car in park and leans in toward me, his hand resting on the back of my seat. "Listen, Cal," he says softly. "I really am sorry. I swear. I wasn't making fun."

  He looks at me with wide, contrite steel-blue eyes. Begging eyes. Pleading eyes. "Please, California. Don't be mad at me. Please. I don't think I could take it. Not tonight."

  Pride is a complicated thing. It is my pride that keeps me from looking at Griffin, but deep down, I know he really wasn't laughing at me. It is my pride that makes me feel the differences in our worlds, but I also realize that people are just people, no matter how much money they have. But my pride. It won't let me swallow that illogical reasoning. My pride causes me to feel inferior to Griffin. My pride keeps me from responding to Griffin.

  "Fine," Griffin says as he puts the car in drive. "I'll take you home."

  The three blocks it takes to get to my place is not enough time to swallow the ever-growing lump of pride in my throat. I want more than anything to just say, "I'm sorry. I was being too sensitive," but my tongue won't form the words. Instead, I'm met with Griffin opening my car door and letting me out. In silence, we walk up the stairs to my porch.

  "Hopefully you'll get over this tomorrow, Calista, because I really don't want something stupid getting in the way of the good thing we have," he says impassively.

  And I think - I must have carried things too far.

  But the word stupid throws anger back into the mix, and now my pride discharges forcefully with the words, "I am not stupid, Griffin, and you can go to hell," Jamming my hands onto my hips, I show him how much he's pissed me off.

  "Oh my God, Cali. I did not call you stupid. It's just...look. I've apologized. I wasn't laughing at you. And I didn't call you stupid. You want to misinterpret everything I'm saying? Then go 'head." He turns to leave, but then faces me again. "I hope this isn't it for us. Hopefully when I call you tomorrow, you'll have gotten over whatever this is and we can return to us."

  I look at his imploring eyes and that familiar feeling of regret rises up in my esophagus again. Spit it out, Calista. Tell him you were being stupid. Just swallow your fucking pride.

  "Nothing," Griffin mutters before shaking his head and walking away.

  My preconceived judgments toward the wealthy have caused an irrational and unintended hostility toward Griffin. And he does not deserve my distrust. My heart hears his intentions, but my stubbornness keeps me from listening.

  I lie in bed tonight, heartbroken and sad. Mad a
t allowing my parents to help form my views on society, instead of forming them myself. And if it's not too late, I hope tomorrow morning I can stand up against my own prejudice and invite in Griffin's differences. Instead of defending myself against them.

  43

  Griffin

  Goddamn it, California.

  Why does she have to be so sensitive?

  Was my laughing so bad?

  I thought it was cute that she didn't know the name of my car.

  I would never laugh at her.

  But thinking about it, while lying in my lonely bed, and putting myself in her shoes, I guess I could see why she got so defensive.

  Damn it.

  I don't mean to flaunt my money. But hell, I am who I am - the son of a rich man. Whether I like it or not.

  Oh, but California.

  How can I make her see that it doesn't matter to me how much money she has or doesn't have? How can I make her see that our two worlds don't have to collide? They can blend.

  Another fucking night I won't be getting any sleep.

  And to think - I could have had Cali in my bed tonight. Holding her. Kissing her. Tasting her. Burying myself fucking deep inside of her.

  Fuck.

  I turn over on my stomach, slide my arms under my pillow, and attempt to commandeer sleep. At least for a few hours.

  But it doesn't come. At least, I know it won't. Not until I make things right with her.

  Are you awake? I text her.

  No answer.

  I can't stop thinking about you. I text her again.

  When I still don't get a response, I figure she probably fell asleep. I don't think Calista would just ignore my texts.