Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Twenty-Two

CARSON

After work, I dropped my bags off at Beckett’s house. The idea of rolling into their penthouse with garbage bags made me feel like the trash the bags were meant to carry. Thankfully, Beckett and his dad were gone, so I could tuck the bags mostly out of sight. Even with my things here, this place didn’t feel like home. To be fair, my own house didn’t feel that way either. No one I loved lived there. My mom would be leaving the next morning, and I would be in Emerson, on my own.

I sat down on the couch, the idea of sleeping here for the next couple months both depressing and exhilarating. Beckett’s dad didn’t throw half-empty beer bottles at the wall. He didn’t slug his son’s face. I could practically taste the freedom I had been craving.

Except being here, working the twisted plan I’d created, didn’t feel like a success. In gaining what I needed, I’d also lose what I wanted. Callie. But like Beckett said, if I loved her, I had to let her go.

My phone vibrated in my back pocket, and I pulled it out, hoping for a call from Callie. The name I saw on the screen was just as good.

I swiped right and held the phone to my ear. “Gramps! How are you?”

“Good,” he answered in his low, comforting voice. “Grandma’s here too.”

“Hi, sweetie,” she cooed.

For a moment, I had a flash of regret. I could be far away from this mess in Texas with my grandparents, being loved like I hadn’t in years.

“We heard you decided to stay there,” Gramps said.

My throat felt tight, so I swallowed to clear it. “I did.”

Grandma said, “I was hoping to have a grandchild around to spoil! It’s been months since I’ve seen Clary’s sweet babies!”

I scratched at the back of my neck, feeling guilty. Mom and Dad might have moved us here to help our family, but Grandma and Gramps were the truest family I’d ever known. They’d lost just as much in the move as my sisters and I had.

“Maybe I can come for a weekend soon?” I asked, trying to hide the hope in my voice. I missed them on a visceral level.

“We’ll do you one better,” Gramps replied. “We decided to drive our camper up there for a week before you start college. Kind of a last hurrah. And then we can go wherever you want. Yosemite, Yellowstone, Washington Mountains. You name it, we’re in.”

My eyes stung at the care in his voice and the prospect of getting out of here. By the time Callie and I would leave for college, she and Nick should be solid, while my heart would be solidly broken. Spending time with my grandparents would be just what I needed.

“It sounds like a plan,” I said. “I can’t wait.”

“Us either,” Grandma said. “And you give us a call if you ever need anything. Your mother said you’re staying with a friend, but sometimes friends make the worst roommates.”

“She would know,” Gramps said with a chuckle. “Going on fifty years living with her best friend now.”

Their banter just made my eyes sting worse. I rubbed at them, trying to shove back the thought that I may never have the kind of marriage they did. That I may not be capable of one.

“Sorry, I gotta go. Love you guys.”

“We love you too,” Gramps said, and I hung up the phone.

At least now I had something to look forward to, an escape plan aside from going to the dorms and starting practice for the swim team with Callie on the same campus. I’d have a week, a break, some time to just be with the people who loved me no matter what.

I don’t know how long I sat on the couch, but eventually the light outside became weaker, and I decided it was probably time to go before I had to see Beckett and explain why I’d zoned out on his couch for so long.

I went to the elevator and took it down to the parking garage where my car waited. I opened my phone to call my mom and see what we were doing for our last night together, but there was already a text from her.

Mom: Meet me at La Belle? At 8?

I checked the time and saw I had just long enough to get there on time.

Carson: See you then.

On the drive to La Belle, I thought about my family. We never went out to eat. Even on the rare nights when Mom was around, we’d order in pizza or make one of those frozen lasagnas that never tasted as good as Grandma’s.

Once I was older and had a little spending money, I’d gone out with the football team after games or out to eat with Callie and our friends. But hardly ever with Mom. Was it weird that I was so worried about it? She’d asked Dad out to eat when I went to get my stuff. Was there something off about this?

I shook my head. This was my mom we were talking about.

I finally reached the Italian restaurant near Emerson Shoppes and parked along the street. The main street here was made of bricks, and the twinkle lights hanging in the front patio made the place look peaceful. Maybe I should take Callie here on a date.

Mom waved to me from a bench near the front door. She still had on her work clothes but had at least shucked the white coat. It was always weird to see her in that.

Once I reached her, she stood and gave me a tight hug.

I swallowed hard as I returned it, knowing it might be one of the last I got for a long time.

“Thought we should celebrate our last night,” she said.

The hope in her eyes filled me with relief. This wasn’t a set up at all. It was a going-away party.

We went inside, and she encouraged me to order way more than I normally would. Pasta, bread, apps, fancy virgin drinks the football guys would tease me about, and more dessert than I could even dream of finishing.

With cannoli crumbs and half a chocolate cake in front of me, I leaned back in the booth, wishing it wouldn’t be strange to unbutton my pants in public. “I’m so stuffed.”

“Me too.” Mom’s eyes lit with a smile.

There was something else about the way her lips lifted. “You’re excited, aren’t you?” I asked.

It was hard to keep the accusation out of my voice, but I must have managed because she nodded and said, “I am. This will be the first time in twenty-six years that I’ve done anything without your father.”

I couldn’t fault her excitement for that, not when I was hoping for some space myself. But still, a little bit of guilt for my father hit me. “What’s he going to do? He can’t afford the house.”

She cut her fork through a piece of cheesecake. “We’re selling the house, and he’s moving back to Texas.”

No matter how casually she said them, her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and that wound just spread anger within me. Here I was with Mom, trying to pick up the pieces of our lives, trying to help my best friend have a chance at love, and my dad could just move on. Go back to where he started and just wash his hands of all of us.

“What, honey?” Mom asked.

I shook my head. “It just doesn’t seem fair. He gets to go back to Texas like nothing ever happened, and we have to deal with what he left behind.”

Gripping my hands across the table, Mom said, “He is not, and never will be, free of the pain he caused us.”

I looked into her eyes. “Neither will we.”

Immediately, her gaze shifted to the table, and she pulled her hands into her lap. She knew I was right, but didn’t want to admit she had a hand in causing our pain.

The rest of our meal passed in silence, and when we walked outside, we stood awkwardly on the sidewalk in front of our cars. Mom looked so much younger than she had these last few months. Even the circles under her eyes seemed to be lighter.

She was going on the adventure I was hoping college would be for me, and I was happy for her. I was.

“I hope you find everything you’re looking for,” I said.

“You’re not coming to the hotel?” she asked.

I shook my head. It was time for both of us to move on. She pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. “I love you, precious boy,” she said and stepped back. “There’s something special in you. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

With that, she walked to her car and gave me a wave before backing out. I couldn’t bring myself to leave, not yet, so I began walking the sidewalks around the restaurant. This part of town was well lit and always had a steady stream of activity this time of night. Still, I wandered aimlessly, not ready to face my new situation, the fact that a couch would be my home.

I found a bench across the street from a fancy restaurant and sat down, watching the couples go in and out. They looked so perfect. So happy. And it gutted me that I’d never be that guy walking in there with Callie on my arm, smiling at me like I’d invented chocolate mousse myself.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

Callie: So, day one. A success?

Carson: Definitely.