by Jewel, Bella
“Oh he didn’t!”
She nods. “Yep, he did. Well, you can imagine I just flipped a switch. I told him if that’s how he feels, why the hell is he bothering with me? He might as well just let me leave and be done with it. To which he replied that he’s not just going to give up that easily, and he’s not letting me leave. But I realized that the only reason he doesn’t want me to leave is because he knows damn well the kind of talk it’ll generate. Someone with his power, it’ll look so bad, and God forbid he looks bad. Not to mention the money split; he’s not willing to share that yet either. He’s content in his boring little life, and he’s content with having a boring wife at home. I’m not, though.”
“Honey,” I say carefully, “why are you staying? What is holding you there? You’re a strong woman, proud and full of courage. Why stay somewhere you’re not happy?”
She exhales. “Because I made a promise to him, to myself. I loved him; shit, I do still love him I suppose, but I married him. I made a commitment. Not just that, but the split would tear our families apart. It would be so messy, so damned ugly, that I just don’t know if I can take it. It would really bring me down, I know it would—not just me, but the press . . . Everyone would have a field day if the richest man in his age group suddenly got dumped. It would cause a media shitstorm.”
She’s right. Pat, being as wealthy as he is, and so well known for his age, would cause a media shitstorm. Not to mention the fact that she’d cop a lot of crap from his family, her family, and everything would go really, really bad. All the same, she shouldn’t be forced to stay when she isn’t happy; nobody deserves to live half of their best life.
“You can’t stay there forever, feeling like this, though.”
She sighs, and rolls to her side. “I know. I’ll figure something out. I will. For now, I told him I’m staying here. Of course, he called me the whole way home, telling me how sorry he is. It would be okay if he actually meant it, but he doesn’t. I know he doesn’t, and he knows he doesn’t. He just doesn’t want the hurricane that would come with our divorce. Honestly, he’s probably already got a mistress.”
It wouldn’t surprise me if he was getting it from somewhere else. Not at all.
“I’m sure he’s not,” I say, because I’m not an asshole and I’m not going to make my best friend feel any worse than she already does.
“Anyway, tell me something awesome. I can’t deal with any more Patrick talk.”
“Well,” I say, and a big, stupid grin spreads across my face, “I lost my virginity tonight.”
Her eyes widen, and she screams, “No way! No freaking way! And you let me go on for so long about stinking Patrick?”
I laugh. “Well, you needed me. I’m not that selfish.”
“Next time, be selfish! Was it Tanner? Oh, please tell me it was Tanner?”
“It was Tanner.” I grin.
She fluffs a pillow under her head and says, “Right, tell me everything.”
So I do.
I tell her everything.
19
THEN – CALLIE
“What did you think of the new book?” Officer Corel asks me as we walk down the halls towards the dining room for dinner.
It has been three years. Three long, hard years, but I’m finally coming out the other side of the hell I was living in. Officer Corel has been a major reason for that. He’s kept me afloat when I thought I would sink. He got me on the straight and narrow. He was there when my family completely abandoned me. He listened. He agreed to help me with Celia when I got out.
He made life so much easier to live.
I’m thankful every day for him.
It doesn’t help that I’m nineteen now, and very aware of how attractive and kind he is. We talk about everything, but never about his relationships. He’s completely unaware of the giant crush I have on him, of course. I mean, I’m locked away. It does give me hope for life outside these walls, though.
To experience this feeling, maybe even with him.
It’s hard to know if he’s dating or not. He doesn’t say and I’m too nervous to ask him, running the risk of it coming across wrong and creating distance between us, which would kill me right now. He’s the only thing that I wake up for, and he’s helped get me through the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I can’t do it without him. I’m not sure I’m willing to risk that.
“I thought it was strange,” I tell him in regards to his question about the book. “I mean, I loved it and I couldn’t put it down, but it was really weird to read.”
He nods, grinning. “You’re right, it was, but I enjoyed it a lot. I have some more for you; I’ll bring them in tomorrow.”
“You’re surely going to run out of books soon. I’m the slowest reader in the world, but you’ve brought me so many over the years.”
“I have a lot of books; they’re my way to unwind after a hard day at work. Don’t worry, we’re not going to run out anytime soon.”
“Well, they should last me until I get out of here at least.”
“Yeah, they will, and if they don’t, I’ll go to the library and get you more.”
My cheeks flush as I smile. I like that he does that for me. I like that he gives me books and nobody else gets them. It’s like our little thing. We’ve never been inappropriate, nor have we ever given anyone reason to think there is something going on between us. Guards talk to prisoners all the time; Officer Corel just happens to like talking to me the most.
“What did you do over the weekend?” I ask him, as we round the corner to the dining room.
“I went on a date with Mary, actually,” he tells me.
I go quiet, purely out of shock. He’s never told me about much of his life outside these walls. Of course, I always ask him what he ate for dinner, and what he did on the weekend, and he’s usually happy to tell me the basics, but he never gets into details. Never. Not ever. So it surprises me he’s so openly told me this.
“Oh, really? That’s nice,” I say, but my stomach feels funny. It twists a little painfully. “Was it enjoyable?”
Is my voice different?
Do I sound jealous?
I sound jealous. I know I do.
“It was okay,” he tells me. “She was a little full on.”
Oh. Thank God. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”
“Yeah, I’m not in any hurry.” He glances at me, and he has a strange expression on his face.
I flush and turn away, and we walk in silence for a few moments, then I say, “So, what amazing food did you eat on the weekend?”
He laughs. “You and your food.”
“Hey, we get the same meals in here, and you know how crappy they are. A girl has to dream. Come on, spill the beans.”
“I had pizza on Saturday.”
“Oh, God, what did it have on it?”
“You know . . .”
“Pepperoni and cheese!” I clap happily, making the two people in front of us turn around and look at me. I stare blankly at them until they look away. “What about Sunday?”
“Pancakes for breakfast, and then I had some steak when I went out on Sunday night.”
“I’m so jealous.” I sigh. “I think the first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is go and eat everything in sight. I’ll probably end up so fat I can’t move, but I don’t care.”
“You’ll never be fat,” he murmurs.
My cheeks flush again. Dammit. I wish I knew why that happened.
“I’ve put in a few good reports for you, trying to see if you can get an earlier release on good behavior. I can’t promise anything, but if your lawyer looks at it, he might consider bringing it forward to the judge to relook at it.”
I look to him, eyes wide, and whisper, “You did?”
“Yeah, I did. You don’t deserve to be in here, Callie. I’ve never believed you did. Outside of a rough start, you’ve been exceptionally well-behaved, and I think you deserve to be rewar
ded for that. If I can get a few guards to put in reports also, we might have a chance. Of course, in the end, it comes down to the judge, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. Oh, do I mean it.
I don’t know where I’d be without him.
I really don’t.
“IT WASN’T GRANTED,” my lawyer tells me, sitting across from me at the visitor’s table. “I’m sorry, Callie. I guess the judge felt strongly about the case. She would prefer you do your full sentence.”
My heart sinks. My body feels like it’s going to collapse in the chair.
Even though I knew this could happen, some part of me, a tiny part, hoped that maybe, just maybe, I might get out of here earlier. I know I shouldn’t have hung hope on that, but the truth is, I’d been hanging hope on it. I was dreaming of all the things I’d do, and all the time I’d get. Knowing that it isn’t going to happen feels like a knife to the heart.
“Did she give a reason why?” I ask, my voice crackly.
“No, she just denied it. We don’t really have the right to ask why. Her decision is her choice. I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying, but there isn’t much more I can do.”
I thank him with a dull and broken voice, and he leaves. I stare at the door, hoping he’ll turn around and tell me he’s just kidding. I am reminded of Celia, and all the things she missed out on. Who am I to cry about not getting out early? Maybe the judge does think I deserve to be in here for the full sentence. Maybe she’s right.
I’m escorted back to my room, and my heart feels heavy and tight in my chest. I sit on the edge of my bed, but I don’t cry. I stopped crying. I stopped letting the emotions eat away at me. I feel them, all the same, but I guess I just ran out of tears. After all, I cried for so long, I can’t possibly cry anymore.
I still dream of Celia every night.
I still think about her every day.
But she has taken all of my tears. She has taken them and they’re not coming back.
“I heard.”
I look up and see Officer Corel. He stands at the door, his arms crossed. “Sorry. I thought you had a chance. I shouldn’t have told you about it.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Honestly, it is. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I appreciate the fact that you tried, that you cared enough to try and help me. I really do.”
“It isn’t forever. You’ve come this far; you’ll make it through the rest. I know it seems like an eternity, but it isn’t. Soon enough, you’ll wonder what it felt like to be in here, because you’ll have forgotten.”
I nod, and stare down at my hands. “The lawyer said maybe the judge felt like I deserved to stay in here for what happened. He said she was passionate about the case. Is that how it’s going to be forever? Am I always going to be the girl who killed Celia Yates? Are people always going to judge me so callously?”
“Probably,” he tells me. “But it’s up to you how you choose to react and take their judgment. You can either take it in, or you can let them feel what they feel and move on with your life. In the end, you can’t make other people’s choices; you can only choose how they affect you.”
“I don’t know when you got so smart,” I say. “But it’s really annoying.”
He chuckles. “You know, I’ve been in the business a long time.”
“You should be a life coach, not a prison guard.”
“You’re probably right. Chin up, Callie. Just think—you get to put up with me a little longer, and I have plenty of books for you to read.”
I look up at him, and I smile.
“There are worse things in the world,” he points out.
He’s right; there are worse things in the world.
If spending the next few years in here with him as my friend is what I have to endure, then so be it.
I’ve come this far with him.
I might as well see it through.
20
NOW – CALLIE
I stare up at the house I grew up in.
The house I haven’t seen for so many years.
The last time I was in it, I lived through some of the worst pain of my life. Not only did my father leave us in this house, but I also sat in that room, staring out the window, terrified of what life was going to hold because I had just accidently hit an innocent girl. I was so young back then. In the scheme of things, it feels like it was such a long time ago, but in reality, it wasn’t.
It really wasn’t.
I swallow and cross my arms, wondering if this is a good idea. I mean, I have to come and see my mother eventually. I can’t hide forever, but am I ready to go in there and face more than just her?
Can I face the demons I left behind the day I got locked up?
Can I face any of this?
I raise my hand and knock on the door. For a moment, the world seems incredibly silent, and then finally, I hear shuffling inside and my mother opens the door.
It has been a long time, and she’s changed quite a lot. Her once fair hair is now raven black. Her eyes, that used to be flawless, are dull and more a grey than a blue. Her skin is paler, and she’s a lot skinnier than she used to be. Max said she got sick, but she’s well now. She doesn’t look well now. She looks older and so much frailer than the woman I last saw all those years ago.
“Mom,” I say, my voice harder than I’d like, but it’s hard not to feel like that around her. She abandoned me when I needed her.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to come and visit your mother.”
Not, ‘Oh my lord, it’s my daughter.’ Or, ‘You’re finally here. I can’t believe it.’
No, instead everything is about her. I see that hasn’t changed a damn bit.
“I considered leaving it as long as it took you to visit me in that place, but I thought I’d never get to see you then, and I’m not a cold-hearted bitch, so here I am.”
Her eyes widen, and her lips part just slightly. “I see that place has changed you.”
“That place didn’t change me,” I say, my voice low and cold. “People who were supposed to be there for me, and who instead left me alone, changed me.”
She exhales. “Callie, I’m tired. If you’re going to create drama, then please come another day. As you know, I’ve been unwell.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, really I am, but it disappoints me bitterly that this is how you greet your own child after being away from her for so many years. I thought this could go so differently, but of course, I was wrong. I always am.”
“If you’re going to carry on, then can we at least do it inside? My neighbor is a terrible gossip.”
It’s far out, really, so far out you almost wouldn’t believe it. That a person who created you could be so damned cold? It happens, though. I’m living proof. Standing here on my old front porch, staring at the woman who brought me into this world, and wondering how in the ever-loving hell I actually survived so long in her care.
“I’ll come in because I want to get some things from my room.”
She looks at me, her eyes narrowing. “Your room is no longer. I packed all your things away when you . . . left. I gave most of it to charity. I have a few boxes left you can take now.”
Charity.
She gave my things away as if I were dead. Not locked away.
Cold. Hearted. Monster.
“I’ll take those boxes,” I say, my voice a low hiss, “then I’ll get out of your hair and stay out of it.”
She studies me, then rubs her face like she’s tired. “I’m exhausted, Callie. Can we do this another day?”
“No, we’re doing it now. Get me those boxes, or I’ll give the neighbors something to really talk about.”
Her eyes flash with that familiar drama I remember so well, and then she snaps, “I’ll be right back.”
She turns and disappears, and I stare into the house. It’s mostly the same as it was when I left it, only now there is some new furniture. I glance at all the photos on the huge di
splay cabinet she’s always had in the living area. From here, I can see there are at least fifty of them.
From here, I can also see she’s taken down every one of me.
She’s removed me from this world. She’s taken me away as if I never existed.
It hurts; I can’t deny that. I didn’t inherit the cold-hearted gene from her.
She returns, and I flinch, stepping back. She hands me two small boxes that honestly couldn’t contain a great deal. I take them and stare at her.
“I won’t be back to bother you again. I have a million things I’d like to say to you, Mom, but I’ll keep it short. You let me down. You let me down at a time when I needed you the same as I needed the very air I breathe. You let your own issues and your own selfishness drive you instead of giving your daughter what she so desperately needed. A mother. I wish it were different, but I can see now that you’re never going to change. You’re always going to be the cold-hearted, selfish woman I know you to be. I should have never expected anything different. The funny thing is, I’m better off without you. I got through it, even when I thought I couldn’t. I made it on my own. I’ll keep making it on my own. You gave birth to me, but you’re not a mother; you’re not my mother. I wish you well, but I deserve so much more.”
I turn on my heel and walk off, boxes in my hand.
And I close the door on this chapter of my life forever.
It’s forward for me now.
The past is no longer.
“YOU ARE A HARD WORKER, Callie,” Andrea says as we lock the doors to the café late at night.
We held a function, and I’ve been here since six a.m. this morning helping Andrea as she was short-staffed. It was a long night, but it was incredible. It kept me busy, and kept my mind in the right now, instead of reliving what happened the day before with my mother, who never called or tried to fix things. She gave me the final answer to any questions I had been asking.