“Diana, is there any chance you and Cale will get back together?”
This kind of talk was foreign territory for Diana and her little brother. Their relationship was one of homework help, how to choose a college, and making fun of Caitlyn, not Diana's love life.
“I don't think so, Jack. We just aren't cut out to be together.”
“I don't understand. You guys were happy?”
“Really? That's how you saw it?” Diana said with surprise. “Jack, do you think I'll be a good mother?”
This question was much too deep for a sixteen year old to answer with any sort of logical answer. “Umm, probably.”
“I'm thinking about giving the baby up for adoption.”
Afraid to say the wrong thing, Jack asked, “Isn't that something you should ask Cale?”
“Yeah, you're right.” Diana said as she wondered if she could bring it up with Cale.
Diana was sore from standing all day, and knew it was time to leave wedding #3. She offered Jack a ride, but he declined out of fear of being asked more personal questions. With the cocktail napkin drawing in her hand, Diana waved goodbye to her brother and headed for her car alone.
On the walk through the parking lot, the truly terrible events of Diana's day replayed in her head. The break up with Andrew. The wedding. The nonstop barrage of baby and relationship questions. She had been strong all day, but as the door to her black Mercedes closed, Diana lost all composure. To have that many losses in one day was way too much for anyone, pregnant or otherwise.
Her hands were doing their best to catch her tears, but they quickly became too much to handle. They ran down her arms and splashed on the hideous dress. She looked up and saw nothing but blurs. Unable to see, she buried her face in her wet hands once again and let the tears flow.
She cried for everything she did to Cale. She cried for everything she was going to do to her daughter. She cried that she had gone all her life without learning how to love. She cried that she had gone all her life with only knowing how to work. She cried for a life that she truly wanted, but knew she couldn't handle.
Maybe it was desperation or maybe it was the hand of the divine, but Diana picked up her phone and dialed Cale. Of everyone she knew, he was the only one who could save her. The phone rang. And rang. And then clicked onto his voice mail.
That idiot Cale had forgotten her.
But Diana Young would not be denied.
UNTRADITIONAL
Still in her hideous bridesmaid dress, Diana stood in front of Cale's door, hesitant to knock. Her hesitation stemmed over what she would find inside. From the sound of the music blasting, Cale was throwing one hell of a party.
But there weren't any voices, only the music and an occasional tink, tink, tink. The music sounded expansive, warm, and familiar. It was alive. The tinking sounded... well, like tinking.
After gathering the necessary courage to face whatever was behind the door, Diana knocked and hoped she wasn't making a terrible mistake.
Her knocks didn't come anywhere close to getting Cale's attention. Shirtless and wearing jeans, he was covered in dust and still sported a few cuts, bruises, a a soft cast on his right hand from the bar fight, but those injuries didn't matter. Cale was in heaven in front of a large slab of stone.
Sculpting, or any creative pursuit for that matter, has these moments where you're literally one with the work. This oneness is the goal of all creators. It can last a few seconds, hours, days, or if you're truly lucky, a lifetime. It can bring a writer to tears over a character's action, cause a musician to explode during a particular riff, or in Cale's case, feel as if he was experiencing the happiest moment in the life of the person he was etching in stone.
That's why he didn't answer the door.
Some people in Diana's position could've accepted this and gone home. Being ignored or forgotten by Cale, whichever it was, seemed like the logical next step in what had been the worst day of her life. Yes, she could've accepted defeat and left, but that's not Diana.
With balled up fists, she pounded on the door. “Cale Dawkins! I know you're in there! Open this door!”
Cale didn't hear Diana's shouts, but he did notice his entire studio warehouse apartment shake from her pounding. He placed the chisel and hammer down on the stone base, lowered the volume on the stereo, and walked over to the door unsure whether he was going to find the police or angry neighbor was behind it.
“Diana!?” Cale gasped. He didn't wait for her to say anything, and instead asked the first thing that came to mind, “Are you okay!?”
Diana was taken aback at Cale's assumption that something was wrong. Sure, she unexpectedly showed up on his doorstep at 11 PM with tear-strewn makeup and wearing a God-awful dress, but that could mean any number of things.
Trying her best to act tough, Diana said, “Oh, I'm fine. I was just in the neighborhood. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
“No, not at all,” Cale responded with a smile. “I was just working on a new piece.”
“Really? You're working? On a sculpture?” Diana stammered and walked into the brightly lit studio. She was surprised that he was working on a Saturday night, but what she found inside left her speechless.
There were three large, stone sculptures lining a wall. One was a relieved looking, wispy-haired girl leaning forward with her arm extended. Another was a little girl laughing on her dad's shoulders. The third sculpture featured a man in a suit picking up a woman wearing a flowing dress by the waist.
In the middle of the room was the piece he was currently working on. It was still in the crude beginning state, but a person could make out the important stuff. There were two human-like figures. One had their hand on the other's cheek. At this sight, Diana knew Cale had found his creativity. He'd been saved.
“That's gonna be us,” Cale said as Diana surveyed the figures. “It'll be the first time I sculpt myself. I always promised myself I wouldn't be one of those artists, but this looks too good in my head.”
Diana blushed. “This is really me and you?”
“I still have a lot of work to do on it, but yeah, that's my intention.” Cale laughed and scratched his head.
She touched the smooth, undefined face of her stone doppelganger, and joked, “So I take it God gave you your inspiration back?”
“That Asshole has done nothing for me.” Cale brushed his hand away like he was swatting a bug. “Honestly Diana, if you want to know the truth, I was a wreck over everything. My art, you, the baby, life... umm, I guess those were the only four things that I was a wreck over, but hey, those are big things!”
He continued, “Last week, I was more lost than I've ever been, and just when it looked like it was all over, I started to think about my life, and from there I had this desire to cling to what mattered. You, the baby, and every person and everything I've ever loved in this crazy life.”
“Cale...” Diana softly said and felt her eyes starting to water. She felt foolish for coming there in such disarray while Cale was on top of the world. He didn't deserve to have his night interrupted by her problems, especially after all she did to him.
Cale noticed this as well, and decided to change the subject into something happier, or in the very least, funnier. “I'm really digging the dress. Caitlyn's wedding?”
“Good call.” She let out a chuckle and said. “And don't make fun of me. I could've invited you as my date, but I have too much compassion.”
Slowly, Cale put the pieces together in his head. No date to the wedding, a face that looked like it had been crying, and an unscheduled visit to his studio warehouse apartment. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Diana was in trouble. So, like his father had always instructed him to do, Cale was going to try his best to help a damsel in distress.
He walked over to a dresser, pulled out his typical gray shirt and put it on. Genuinely, he asked, “How about we go for a walk? You know, like we used to. We can talk about what's bothering you.”
“N
othing's bothering me, I'm fine.” Diana defiantly said.
Cale grabbed her hand and said, “Please, I know you well enough to know when something is wrong. Let's go, darling, I'm all ears.”
With that last sentence, Diana smiled and said, “Let me put on my running shoes. They're in my car.” She let go of his hand and walked toward the door. “You can go ahead and fill up your water bottle with gin. I'll meet you outside, okay?”
To her surprise, Cale was right behind her. “That's alright, I don't need any right now.”
Just like they had done so many times before, Cale and Diana walked down the yellow-lit streets of Denver toward nothing in particular. Cale hadn't inquired as to what was bothering Diana, he knew that given enough time, she would come out with it.
Actually, neither had said much of anything. The only words came from Cale singing a familiar refrain.
“Diana, Diana, Diana, I would die for you.”
They passed by some closed shops that consisted of all windows. With the inside lights off and the streets bright, they made for great mirrors. Diana saw their reflection as they passed, and it made her remember her brother's drawing. They weren't holding hands, and had much more definitive features than the people on the napkin, but the similarities were close enough. It was life imitating art to a degree.
“Here,” Diana said as she dug the cocktail napkin out of her purse. “Jack drew this. I thought you should have it. For some reason, it reminds me of your art.”
Cale received the napkin and held it up to the light. Sure enough, it looked like something he would've done in his heyday. Sad, beautiful, and full of desperate longing.
“This is amazing work. I wish I had half of Jack's talent when I was his age.” Cale truthfully said and placed the napkin in his pocket. While sliding it in, another slip of paper brushed against his hand, and he knew exactly what it was.
He pulled out the folded note God had given him, and stared at it. God knew that moment was gonna happen. He had lied to Cale about not being all-knowing, and the more Cale thought about it, the more that type of joke seemed right up that Bastard's alley.
“Here, Someone I know told me to give this to you. He said it would help you out.”
Diana unfolded the slip of paper and read it out loud.
“Your heart's full of liquor and me and everyone else are just ice in a glass? What the hell does this even mean?”
Cale bit his lip to stop from laughing. Maybe God wasn't all-knowing, but you had to give him credit for humor.
“I'm sorry, Diana, that's a song lyric from The National. I thought there was something inspirational or uplifting on it.”
“Wait, you didn't know what was written on it?”
“Nah, I trusted fate.”
Diana laughed, “That certainly sounds like you. Always trusting fate.”
“Not anymore,” Cale huffed in a not so serious manner. “From now on, fate or any of that other inspiration stuff doesn't matter.”
“Sure thing, whatever you say.” Diana winked and grabbed Cale's hand.
Cale didn't realize it, but that note had loosened Diana up. She said to him. “You were right all along.”
She couldn't tell in the dark, but Cale gave her an inquisitive eyebrow raise. He had no idea what she was talking about.
“You were right about adoption. I have no business being a mother. Hell, I can barely take care of myself.”
Cale bopped her on the face with his fingers. It was a gentle tap, but the symbolism of the act was what mattered.
Surprised, Diana asked, “What was that for?”
“The only reason I came up with that adoption stuff was because I was terrified of being a father, not to mention I was pretty blind to how strong you really are.”
“You're wrong. I'm not strong enough for this. ”
“Look at you, Diana. Jesus, compared to what you've dealt with so far in life, raising our daughter will be easy. Besides, I'll be here to help.”
“You don't understand, Cale. I'm gonna be a terrible mother. Like overbearing to the point she'll grow up with so many issues that therapists will deny her service.”
Cale smiled, “You're looking at this all wrong. This girl is gonna be so much like you that it'll be shocking.”
“You don't know that, Cale.”
“Think about how much she kicks. If that's not the sign of a fiercely independent woman, than I don't know what is.” Cale squeezed her hand tighter. “When she's born, who better to teach her how to use that strength than you? Oh by the way, this is my dad's advice, not mine. So you know it's right. That old guy is never wrong.”
Diana shook her head and said, “Donald Dawkins...”
“He's right on this.”
“No he's not. Not this time. I can't handle relationships. Look at how badly I fucked up ours.”
“C'mon now, I seem to remember having a pretty big hand in that too, and besides, we're okay now.”
“People like me aren't cut out for families. I've spent my life trying to be the best lawyer I can be, and I don't know, I guess I skipped out on that stage of life where people learn how to love others. What a waste of a life...”
Cale stopped walking. “First off, no point in your life has been wasted because they led to this moment, and this moment is good.”
Diana heard Cale's words, but didn't agree.
“Secondly,” Cale continued. “How similar do you think we are?”
“Me and you? The artist and the lawyer? Right brain and left brain? We couldn't be any more different.”
“You're wrong. We might have different careers, but we're both about as passionate as possible when it involves our work. Now, you're right to some degree when you say you're not cut out for relationships, but that's relationships as you think they're supposed to be. For people like us, relationships need to be handled differently.”
“And what would this different type of relationship be like?”
Cale laughed and admitted, “I have no clue.”
A collection of thirty to forty bicyclists came around a corner. It was one of the midnight bicycle clubs that ride through Denver late at night in search of alcohol and open streets. Cale and Diana stood on the side and watched as they wheeled by.
“Listen Diana, I don't have the answers about us, but if you want to uphold the pact, I'm all for it.”
“Cale Dawkins!” One of the bicyclists that rode by yelled out. A significant demographic of bicycle clubs are art students and lovers of alcohol. The two groups often overlap, and Cale happened to be the local celebrity smack dab in the middle of that Venn diagram.
Cale responded with “Digging the bike, man!” and waved at the crowd.
Diana looked over at him, and saw true happiness. His current life was exactly what he wanted and it made him thrive.
This sight made her think about what Cale said and how similar they really were. If she ignored her relationship problems, then her life was pretty enjoyable in its current state as well. Taking care of her daughter would be completely different than dating, and if the little girl possessed even a quarter of Diana's personality, then she was bound to be the best friend Diana would ever have.
While she pondered this, an idea struck her that was so daring, bold, and original, she was angry she hadn't thought of it sooner.
“Cale, I got it!” Diana shouted as she grabbed his arm.
“Wha... what?” Cale blurted as he came back to reality. Up till then, he had been busy building a sculpture of a biker in his mind.
Defiantly, Diana said, “Fuck the pact.”
“Fuck the pact?”
In her lawyer jargon, Diana said, “Yes. I hereby null and void our contract and would like to propose a new one.”
Cale didn't say anything.
“No expectations, we just do what works for us as we go along. We can share custody, but that's as far as we'll plan. After that, whatever happens, happens.”
Cale leaned over and kissed her o
n a cheek. It was his way of agreeing to the new deal.
Hand in hand, they walked home. They didn't know what their life would be like in the weeks, months, and years to come, and frankly they didn't care. As untraditional as the millions of other untraditional relationships in the world, they were in a 21st century romance. It was love.
AN EPILOGUE OF SORTS
The Diana Young Pregnancy Update
Estimated weeks till delivery: 2
Shape of stomach: Deflated
Food Craving: Water
Mood: Sore and exhausted
Just like her mother, Sophie Cleopatra Dawkins-Young would always be early for appointments. It was a trait that started with her own birth. The similarities with her mother didn't stop there, though. With a head full of red hair and a grip that made Dr. Lincoln wince, she really was her mother's daughter.
But there was some of Cale in that little girl too. The Dawkins’ gene had a penchant for interrupting at the worst possible moments. Such as having your water break in the middle of a client meeting.
As for the actual birthing process, like the ultrasound before it, they’ve been described to death. It was long, painful, nerve-wracking, beautiful, crazed, hectic, tearful, glorious, and the happiest day in the lives of at least four of the twelve people there.
Terri Young was elated beyond belief as she called friends, relatives, and pretty much everyone who would listen to share the news that she was now a grandmother. Her most common quote, which happened to be identical to every enthusiastic new grandmother, was, “I wish I could've gone straight to being a grandmother!”
Thanks to a chartered plane, Donald Dawkins arrived just after the birth. He would’ve been earlier, but he had to make a few stops beforehand. All the women including Dr. Lincoln and the nurses received a rose while Cale was handed a bottle of gin. Later that day, the Dawkins men as well as Benjamin Young had killed that bottle.
With the birth, the two families were intertwined for the rest of their lives. This went beyond seeing each other at holidays or school, sports, musicals, or religious events into something much deeper. Cale and Diana might split up for good one day, but because of that little girl, they would always be connected.
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