Callie clung to his jacket and said with stilted words, “Listen, Brian. You—you go home and…and think about what—what—well, what you said—I want you to think about it—it on well, on—the way home so—”
“Sweet pea? Shhh. Don’t say anything else. It’s all going to be fine,” He pulled her tighter and it was a good thing, because Callie couldn’t say anything anyway.
Words, words, words.
They whirred around in big clumps in her head, but they just never came out in the right friggin’ way she wanted them to. Callie was always left feeling halfway there. Like she’d almost be able to spit it all out, but if someone gave her permission to back down, she gladly obliged.
She cleared her constricting throat. “Okay. You go now, before it gets late,” Callie said with a false cheerfulness. Callie kissed him quickly, one last time and hugged him hard, memorizing the press of his body against hers and then turned to go to her car.
Brian smiled and waved as he climbed in his truck, starting the engine with a rumble.
Callie watched Brian pull away, his white truck leaving dust from the motel parking lot in its wake. Her heart hammered in her chest as she got into her car. Callie gripped the steering wheel and squeezed her eyes shut.
If just once she could say what she needed to.
If just once she could get it all out in the open, ask the questions that needed asking. Whatever it took to soothe her fears, ease her terror over being dumped.
But she couldn’t. She was too afraid of what she might hear and hearing that Brian would “call her” or whatever perfunctory bullshit you gave to someone you’d just boinked was something Callie decided she just didn’t want to know. Sometimes it was better to be deaf, dumb and totally in the dark. It was better to fade into the woodwork, let it go, than to ever hear the words, “I don’t want you anymore” again.
Callie couldn’t hear that again, not as long as she lived.
Especially if the words came from Brian Benson’s lips.
Callie drove home in a daze, thinking only of the last three days in flashes of bright, vivid Technicolor. Picking apart Brian’s words, trying to remember if he’d looked sincere when he’d said them. What they’d been doing when he did.
They’d been boinking is what they’d been doing.
What difference did it make? It wasn’t like she could tell the difference anyway. She had Frank as an example of genuine. It didn’t bode well in her favor and while she knew rationally Frank was the crappiest example of genuine this side of the Mason Dixon, she couldn’t seem to stop painting all men with the same brush. Callie didn’t question her friend’s husbands. They’d proven themselves in her mind. They’d stuck it out for the long haul, but there was always that niggle that dug a hole in a theory she so desperately wanted to buy into. The “what ifs” of this relationship with Brian made her miserable.
Pulling into her garage left Callie feeling empty and cold inside, weary, deflated. What was once a safe haven from the outside world now held no appeal, other than Aston, who greeted her with his usual grunt. Frank must have dropped him off, which would mean another scathing note, or worse one that said he was suing for full custody. Callie wasn’t up to that.
Callie wanted to go back to the Motel Six and climb back in bed beside Brian, spoon with him until someone peeled her cold, dead body off him.
She’d had too much time to think on the way home. This thing, whatever this thing was with Brian, had happened too quickly and she was sure as Brian drove home he’d realize that and he’d want out.
Callie Winston could never hold the appeal Iraq did. She’d never be half as adventurous to play with as a sniper rifle was. She’d never offer mystery and she was about as exotic as a domestic cat. Callie dropped her purse, pillow and bag on her kitchen table and then pulled out a chair and sat in it. She listened to the tick of the clock that hung on her wall in her small kitchen, letting her pounding head fall to her crossed arms.
And she sobbed.
With small gulps of air between each wretched breath that escaped her lips.
Callie didn’t know why she was crying. Brian hadn’t given her any indication that they were over, but he hadn’t given any indication that they’d begun either and somehow she just knew it was done. He’d go home and realize that Callie wasn’t really as interesting as he’d found her over an instant message or a phone call. Real life would intrude and he’d see that she was as simple as the day was long. The sex could be found anywhere and while they’d had plenty of it, Brian could find someone else to do that far more easily in Arizona.
Maybe Brian had just gotten carried away with the adventure of this whole meeting…
The heat of the moment would sink in and then he’d be hit with the big baseball bat of clarity.
How had this happened to average Callie Winston?
How had she fallen in love with a man she’d known but two months? And what could she do to stop herself from being hurt once Brian realized that what they’d shared was impulsive on his part. She’d thought it to death before meeting him, but she knew men didn’t do that. He’d never had a relationship that consisted of more than a year or two. Callie knew what it was to commit to the long haul, even when the long haul had involved infidelity. She’d stuck it out for as long as she could. Brian was committed to his work and he’d been single all of his life for a reason.
Fear crept into Callie’s thoughts and her first instinct was to protect herself, climb out of her hole for mere moments to dig a deeper one and climb right back in, pulling the loose dirt back over her head.
She didn’t want to hurt again. She never wanted to hurt like she had with Frank, not ever again and she had to do something to control that. Stop the ball from rolling her over. Bring this freight train from hell to a screeching halt.
The scrape of her chair startled Aston as Callie made a hasty decision and set off to stop the wheels of motion she was sure were now churning in fate’s hands.
Clicking on her computer, she tapped her foot in an erratic, impatient motion as she waited to log onto her e-mail. Callie skipped the e-mail from the date site and clicked on create mail.
To: Brian_SOF
Subject : Hope you made it home safely
Brian,
I hope when you get this it finds you home safely and not too tired from your drive.
The past three days were the most incredible of my life bar none. I’ve never experienced a man quite like you and I wanted you to know that I think you’re all of the things any one woman could ever want. You’re a smart, sexy, funny, sweet man who changed the perceptions I had of myself, both mentally and physically and whether real or fictional, I’ll always be grateful to you for it.
You’re right about Frank and how conditioned I became over the course of our marriage. It left me a bad judge of character and worse, it left me alone in this world we call “dating”. I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t know what comes next. I’m not skilled in the ways of these things…
But I did want you to know that what happened between us, the words spoken have no obligations. I realize people get carried away, they do and say things “in the heat of the moment” and I didn’t want you to think you couldn’t take them back. If I never hear from you again, I’ll understand.
Callie paused for a moment, gripping the mouse as she thought about Brian taking her up on never contacting her again. It tore at her gut, burned her eyes, made her heart squeeze unbearably in her chest, but she forced herself to deal with the reality she was sure held substance.
Your reasons for going to Iraq are deeply rooted in who you are and I understand them completely. Your life is full and adding something else to your already heaping plate might be overwhelming. I guess what I’m saying is if you want to let this thing go, Brian, I’d understand completely. I don’t need a hero, though I’m sure you’d make a great one. I don’t want to be saved. I want to share something with someone on equal ground.
You ma
de me feel things I didn’t know existed Brian, and as a result I feel many things for you. What was it you said? Stand in the door and jump, Callie? Well, I guess I just did and I never would have done it if you hadn’t held out your hand to me. For that I’ll always be grateful…
Love,
Callie.
Callie didn’t even proof-read it, she clicked send before she chickened out, before Brian could send her an e-mail that said thanks for the good time, but…
Or worse—before he could send nothing.
Before her phone remained silent.
Callie pushed her office chair back with defeat and peeled off her clothes, as she went out to the kitchen table where she grabbed her pillow off the table.
She slid into her T-shirt, still at the end of her bed and then climbed between the sheets, hugging her pillow to her chest, hoping it would stop the ache.
It smelled of Brian.
The spicy, woodsy scent that now made her heart clench in her chest like a vice grip had a hold on it.
The space behind her felt empty, cold, half of a whole.
And then, she cried for the second time that day, until she was spent and sleep took her to a place Brian Benson couldn’t invade.
* * * *
Her phone woke her several hours later. Callie reached to grab it, rubbing at her eyes, hoping it was Brian…
“Hello,” she mumbled into the phone as she struggled to sit up.
“Hey, hot stuff, how are you, sweetie?”
Katherine…she just couldn’t talk to her about Brian right now. Not now when she was as raw as a rare T-bone. “I’m great,” Callie said with as much cheery bullshit as she could muster.
“Ya sure? You don’t sound great.”
Callie pulled her pillow to her stomach and hugged it. “I just woke up. I’m fine, really.”
Katherine chuckled, “Ah, the afterglow of a good boink. Nuthin’ like it, eh, kiddo?”
No, there was nothing like this… Callie snorted, “Yep. Nothing compares.”
“So did he go home?”
Callie’s spine stiffened. Like a bat outta hell… ”Yeah, he did.”
“Are you okay with that? I mean from what you were telling me between coming up for breaths of air, I figured you’d just go to Vegas and get hitched.” Katherine laughed at her cleverness.
The black claws of misery tore at Callie’s heart. She would not tell Katherine her suspicions. If she did, Katherine would be all over Brian like stink on shit and Callie just couldn’t take it. She refused to allow Katherine to think she was a fool for falling for Brian’s sweet words. “I don’t think you should pick out the bridesmaid’s dresses just yet,” Callie tacked on a sardonic giggle for show, then bit her lip to keep a fresh batch of tears from falling.
“Has he called?” Katherine’s radar was finely honed and Callie just wanted to get off the phone and bury herself back under the covers.
“I don’t know, Kath. I was sleeping. He probably left me a message or something on my cell.”
“Well, call him then, sweetie.”
Arghhhh. No, she would not call Brian. No, she would not do anything more than she’d already done. Callie Winston would not beg a man to acknowledge her. Not ever again. She wouldn’t even hint at it. The ball was in Brian’s court now. “Maybe later. Right now I’m fried, Kath, okay?”
“Alright, Cal. I understand. It was all that good lovin’,” Katherine snickered. “You get some sleep and I’ll see you Monday, okay?”
“K. Bye.” Callie hung up the phone and went in search of her cell to see if Brian had left her a message. Aston followed behind her, trudging with slow steps.
Callie dug in her purse and flipped open the phone that had burned up hours of minutes between California and Arizona. Her message light was blinking…She punched in her code and listened to Brian’s voice mail. “Hey, Callie, I’m home safe and sound. Just wanted to let you know. I’ll holler at you later.”
Callie bit her lip and pressed the phone to her chest. Later, he would call later…yeah.
Good.
Later.
Some sick need to torture herself led Callie to check her e-mail. Maybe he’d read her e-mail by now and responded? Sure, Cal. He e-mailed you to say, it’s been real. Buh-bye. Or wait, maybe he’d e-mailed to tell you you’re the love of his life and he can’t live without you?
Callie yanked her office chair out and clutched her mouse, scanning the e-mails for one from Brian.
Her stomach sank like the Titanic.
No e-mail.
Callie pushed the chair back and pressed a fist to her eyes. No crying over stupid, non-e-mailing Brian Benson.
No crying.
A tear escaped her eye.
Okay, one stupid fucking tear and that was absolutely it.
Taking a deep breath, Callie crossed the room to her bed and flopped back on it, letting her head hang over the edge. Aston licked her nose in sympathy, catching the one and only tear she was going to shed willingly for Brian Benson.
Chapter 22
Callie was in no mood to play at work on Monday and she’d snapped more than one head off as a result, sending the ever-nosy Felix on his way and telling Tyler he could shove his expense report up his cheap ass. She’d had a total of one cup of coffee before she was blindsided by Brian Benson. She’d told Tyler the coffee was on her.
She felt like a shit.
She looked like shit from the assessment her computer screen gave her and she had an article to write. Something funny, something witty, something fucking inane to entertain the masses.
Fuck the masses.
Callie couldn’t wrap her head around anything since the weekend. Nothing was clicking and nothing was making any sense anymore. She wanted this column over with and then the yuppie sharks could have it. Working in the mail room suited her just fine.
Callie clicked on her e-mail absently to see that yet more e-mail from Heavenly Hook Ups was waiting for her. God, this was never going to end. She’d have to see about having her profile deleted.
No more dating.
But as she scanned her full inbox at the site, she realized she’d have to answer some of these. Well, she didn’t have to, but her manners wouldn’t allow her not to. Groaning, she attacked them from top to bottom.
To: Writer66
From: Liveandletlive
Subject: By all means…
Reject me. Do not write back to me. It’s part of my rejection therapy.
Live and let live
Callie could share a thing or two with Liveandletlive about rejection. She might laugh at his approach if she didn’t want so much to cry.
To: Liveandletlive
Subject: Re: By all means…
Dear Liveandletlive,
Consider this a donation to your rejection therapy fund.
Always willing to help a fellow patient in sunny California,
Writer66
Next?
To: Writer66
From: Hajisan
Subject: Marry me
Dear Writer66,
I respectfully request that you accept my hand in marriage. I have many things to offer. A palace and a herd of sheep, to name a few. Please e-mail me ASAP.
Hajisan
A herd of sheep…It was how every girl wanted to be wooed, with smelly sheep, but hey, what girl couldn’t use a nice palace?
To: Hajisan
Subject: Re: Marry me
Dear Hajisan,
Does that palace come with a harem of men?
Ever hopeful in sunny California,
Writer66
Callie rolled her head on her shoulders and fought the urge to throw something huge at her computer screen.
To: Writer66
From: Chasingadream
Subject: Connection!
Hey Writer 66,
I’m feelin’ you in a big way. We’d connect, I just know it. So give me a sign, here, babe.
Bob
Feeling her? Oh,
God…please, make this stop. She was sick to friggin’ death of this stupid dating lingo.
Connected, feeling it…
She wasn’t feelin’ a thing but desolate and she just might connect that with a good right hook if she could just find a face to smash. Callie couldn’t do this anymore. Writer66 had to die and she was goin’ out in a blaze of glory.
To: Chasingadream
From: Writer66
Subject: Re: Connection
Dear Bob,
Here’s your sign.
No.
Disconnected in sunny California,
Babe AKA Writer66
Fucking men.
Fucking stupid, asanine, lame, dipshit, bullshit spewing men.
Callie wanted to hurl something. Break something and watch it shatter in a million pieces to appease this anger she felt with herself, with Brian, with Frank, with the whole damn world at large, but she just didn’t have the energy.
What had begun as a way for Callie to earn back favor in the eyes of the big-wigs at California Hip was now the bane of her existence. Callie had come to hate her juicy lips. She wanted to gouge out her bedroom eyes and the last thing she wanted to do was feel anything ever again.
Leaning forward, Callie shoved her keyboard aside with a rough hand and rested her cheek against the cool of her desk.
Raw.
She was so raw right now that one wrong word from someone and she couldn’t promise bad things wouldn’t happen. Really bad, ugly things.
A thread.
Callie hung by a thin one, dangling in the wind. One stiff breeze and she just might let go.
Enough.
She’d had enough of the pretty words that were vacuous and shallow. The lame, sticky-sweet crap these e-mails shoved down her throat like spoonfuls of sugar.
Her sexy lips and bedroom eyes were retiring.
Death to Writer66.
* * * *
Aston was in the kitchen waiting for her as Callie dragged her bone-weary ass into her apartment. The usual note from Frank after visitation sat waiting for her on her kitchen counter.
Callie looked down at Aston as she read Frank’s note that told her he just couldn’t make Aston’s vet appointment. Poor Mandy/Candy/Barbie had liposuction or something.
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