Mistakes I’ve Made by Jordan Marie

25Reed

She kissed me.

It wasn’t a romantic kiss, but it was a kiss just the same. I’ve even managed to relax enough that it doesn’t feel like my skin is trying to crawl off my bones. I hum my happiness as she lays her head against my back. I doubt she can hear me, but her hands tighten around me, so maybe she felt the vibration.

I turn onto the main road, and we go faster, the night air crashing against my skin, thrusting against my hair and I breathe it in. For the first time in way too long I feel almost clean. I still feel lost but having Callie’s arms around me seems to anchor me.

I drive without thought, enjoying the feel of the bike between my legs. Callie was worried I got rid of my truck because of her, but the truth is I’ve wanted it gone since the morning I woke up in the back of it. Seeing Callie’s reaction yesterday just made me agree to pay a lot more than I was planning—instead of haggling. It’s a decent bike. It needs work, some of which I had to do today to make it safe enough to take Callie out on it. Having her arms around me makes it more than worth it, however.

I drive along the streets of Macon on autopilot, not stopping until we get out of town. Through it all, Callie doesn’t say a word. She just keeps her head against my back and her arms tight around my stomach. Her legs are against mine, too. I can’t think of anything better in the world than having Callie on the back of my bike. The urge to just keep driving until we end up far away from Macon is so strong that it takes all I have not to do exactly that. Instead, I turn onto a small, blacktopped road.

I found this place a couple of weeks ago. It’s abandoned and probably has been for years and years. We go through what used to be a gate at the foot of a private drive, but now is just ram-shackled, rusted metal that is broken and laying like fallen soldiers in a battle long since fought and lost. I know, because that’s exactly how I feel at times.

Lost and fallen.

I slow down as we continue to an old, abandoned house. I’m sure, once upon a time, it used to be spectacular. Now, it’s definitely dilapidated. The brick has faded from the weather. The red color, which was probably beautiful and pristine in its day, is now mostly faded white and covered with ivy. The foundation has obviously cracked, making these helter-skelter lines of division in the mortar. The windows are made of wood instead of vinyl and the glass panes have been broken out. The wood is cracked and in shambles from years of abuse by the weather.

As I pull up to a stop in the circle driveway, with the landscaping overgrown, the bricked flower beds now home to weeds and wild trees, I begin to wonder what Callie will think about it. It looks like something out of a horror movie, maybe. Still, I get the oddest sensation of being home when I’m here—which is weird as hell since I’ve never felt like I’ve had a home in Macon. Mostly, I’ve come to hate the place.

“What is this place?” Callie asks as we park and get off the bike.

Luckily, the moon is bright and full tonight and shines down, lighting our way. She hands me her helmet and I hang it on the handlebars. I grab a blanket out of my saddlebags. I see Callie raise an eyebrow as if wondering what it’s for, but she doesn’t ask, and I remain quiet. I take her hand and we walk toward the house.

“I found it the other night. It used to belong to the town mayor about ten years ago. When his wife died, he couldn’t stand to live here anymore. He couldn’t bear to sell it either, so it just stayed empty, wasting away.”

“That’s so sad. You can tell it was a beautiful home once,” she says, and I nod.

“I think it still is—or could be, I mean.”

“Probably,” she responds.

We’re quiet as I lead her around the house and when I hear her audible gasp, I know I made the right decision. The yard is large. There’s an in-ground pool that is more than likely beyond the point of repair. Yet, it’s what is out from the pool that is the star of the property. There’s a huge level yard that is grown up, although I’ve cut a wide path down the middle and there are solar lights everywhere at the end of the path. I didn’t supply those. They were shining the night I found this place. We walk through the path I’ve made, the lights shining over us, to reveal a creek bank, and something large that’s covered in a blue tarp.

I know what is under the canopy, of course. I wanted to make sure Callie was surprised, however. We stand there a minute listening as the water splashes over the rocks in the creek, the noise soothing. I let go of Callie’s hand to pull off the covering from what I want to show her.

Underneath, there’s a large daybed swing. The cushion is a beige color—or was at one time. It’s almost faded white now, but because there was a top on the daybed, the bed itself is in good shape. The canopy that was on top was toast. I got rid of it, bringing the tarp to protect the bed. Most nights lately I come out here on my own. It helps to get away from my dad, from Mitch, Mom… Everything.

“Oh, my goodness! I’ve seen these in magazines. I always thought they were so nice,” Callie murmurs.

I use the blanket to cover the mattress and then pat it. “Have a seat, Bluebird.”

She looks at me and then back at the bed. For a moment I wonder if she’s going to tell me no. I hold my breath, afraid anything I do will make her run. Then, she walks over and puts her back to the bed and tries to climb on. The problem is that it’s kind of high and she’s shorter. It moves and she laughs because she can’t climb on it. I walk over, smiling because I love the sound of her laughter. I put my hands on her hips and stare into her eyes.

“I’m not the most graceful person on the planet, Reed,” she mutters and it’s dark and even with the glow of the solar lights and the moon I can’t make out if she’s blushing, but I think she is.

“You’re perfect,” I tell her honestly. She puts her hands over mine, her touch warm and I can tell she’s searching for something on my face. I don’t know what it is, but I wish more than anything I could give it to her.

“This is different,” she says, sounding as if she’s been jogging. My gaze drops to her lips and then further down to her neck and finally landing on her chest. It’s rising and falling quickly.

“What is?” I ask, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.

“This feeling between us,” she murmurs, moistening her lips.

“I guess so.” I admit, not knowing what else to say.

“I don’t know what it means anymore,” she responds, as I sit down on the bed beside her. I move us so we’re lying down.

“How about, we don’t worry about it right now and we just enjoy the night. I like having you in my arms and the stars above us,” I tell her as she settles her head against my chest. One of her arms moves over my stomach and my eyes close at how sweet that feels. For the first time since prom, I feel my heart settle into a steady rhythm that doesn’t feel like I’m running from something.

“Remind me to thank Jake,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her gently.

“I would have sought you out eventually, I think,” she says as if she’s pondering her answer. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. More than you know, Bluebird.”

“I think I’m getting used to that nickname,” she laughs.

“Good,” I respond, my fingers combing through her hair.

“Will you sing to me, Reed?”

“Wh-what?” I stammer, suddenly nervous. Callie has never asked me to sing for her.

“Please? I’ve heard you here and there, but never just the two of us like this and you singing for me. You’ve always just hummed with the radio or sang with it in general.”

“You always said you liked it,” I mumble.

“And I do, but I really want to hear you sing when you’re singing from your heart. Jake once said you were good enough to go to Nashville and hit it big. He told Katie that he’s tried to talk you into going down there for years.”

“Jake’s apparently said entirely too much,” I mumble.

“Reeeeeeed” she whines.

I clear my throat. “I don’t usually sing without my guitar, Callie.”

“It’s just us,” she says like that should make it mean less. I could tell her that, of anyone I could sing to, she’s the most important.

I take a deep breath and quietly sing the words to the chorus of the song that I wrote the day after I met Callie. I’m whispering, so it’s hard keeping the melody, but I put my heart into the song.

“I like the sound of your name on my lips.

And the feel of your skin under my fingertips.

The way you say my name in your sleep.

Baby there’s no such thing as in too deep.

You’re everything.

Everything to me.”

“That’s beautiful. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be loved like that?” she whispers.

“Would it?” I murmur, fighting the urge to confess that I love her that way. She is everything in that song. Hell, she’s the reason I wrote it.

“Definitely. That’s just the chorus, right? Can you sing it all?”

“I don’t know why you want to torture yourself, but I guess,” I mutter, but before I can sing a verse, her cellphone rings, interrupting the peace of the night.

“Sorry,” she mutters, pulling it out of her pants pocket. She must put it on speakerphone because she pushes a button and then holds it below her mouth after motioning for me to be quiet. “Hello?”

“Where in the hell are you, Callie?” a man growls.

Callie jerks against my body and I can feel her tense. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

“I—uh just got off work, Dad. I’ll be heading home now,” Callie says already sitting up.

“You lying bitch,” I lean up like I can do something to stop the asshole, but Callie puts her hand against my chest as if to restrain me. “I called Johnson. He said you left his house over an hour ago.”

“I was hungry, so I went into town to grab a sandwich.”

“You mean you were out whoring around while your mother needed you.”

“Mom? Is something wrong with Mom?” Callie asks and I can hear the panic in her voice.

“Like you care! She had another episode tonight. Get your ass here and clean up after her. I’m not going to ask you again. I work my ass off to keep a roof over your head and all I ask is for you to take care of your damn mother.”

“I’m heading that way now,” Callie explains, but her father has already hung up. “Shit,” she hisses, hanging up her phone. “I better get.”

I’m already moving, helping her off the bed.

“I know you’ve always said you had a rough life at home, but I don’t think I quite took you serious, Callie. Does he…” I have trouble forming the words. I slide my hand against the side of her neck, letting my thumb brush carefully against her cheek. “Does he hit you?” I ask because the man I heard on that phone doesn’t sound like he’d hesitate.

“I’ve got to go, Reed,” she says, trying to pull away.

“I’ll take you to your car, but I need you to answer me, Bluebird. Does he ever hit you?”

“He hadn’t,” she mumbles, avoiding my eyes. “He slapped me the other night when I forgot to take the trash out.”

“That son of a bitch,” I growl.

“It’s okay, he never has before. I think it’s just because Mom has been getting worse. Dad doesn’t deal well if he can’t be in control of things.”

“Callie—”

“It’s okay, Reed. I’m saving money. I’m out of here as soon as I can, but I can’t leave Mom—no more than you can leave yours.”

“Callie…” I mumble, shoving my hand into my hair, frustrated as hell.

“I know that’s why you’re still here. It’s why you didn’t go with Jake, or even go to Nashville. We do what we have to, Reed. That’s who we are,” she states, her tone matter of fact, but sad just the same.

“Callie,” I repeat, unable to confess that she’s the main reason I’m still here.

“Gotta go, Reed,” she says, and I nod, because I know she needs to. I grab the blanket and take her hand, leading the way to my bike, wishing I could take her away from here.