Mistakes I’ve Made by Jordan Marie

33Callie

I look behind me and wave goodbye to Reed. He waves back but makes no move to leave. I know he won’t until I’m inside. That makes me smile. Today didn’t exactly go as planned. The waiting at the clinic took forever and I think it might have been the most uncomfortable I’ve been in my life. I could feel everyone’s eyes on us. Reed said it was mostly in my head, but I’m not sure I believed him. The clinic was holding a “free clinic” day, which didn’t help. It was so crowded in there you could barely turn around. We found a seat in the corner of the room, but instead of that helping me to disappear, it seemed everyone was facing me—including Nigel the mailman. It’s not a question of if it will get around that Reed and I were at the clinic together, it’s just a question of when. From there, it’s not going to be a big jump to having everyone speculate as to why.

Then, the computers all went down. They couldn’t run the tests that they needed to do. They drew blood and sent the tests off to the local lab at the hospital. That means it will be a minimum of two days before we get the results back. It’s definitely frustrating, but Reed is happy and that’s all that matters.

I close the door and hear Reed’s motorcycle start up. I cry out when a hand caps down on my wrist. There’s no way Reed can hear me. Right now, I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. My father twists my wrist so harshly that I feel it crack.

“Stop!” I cry, tears stinging my eyes. I barely get the word out before my father takes the back of his hand and slaps me across the face then pushes me with all his might. The hit is so hard and combined with his shove, I spiral backwards crashing into the coffee table. I hear glass break around me and my head slaps hard against the wood, making my instantly woozy. I try to focus, looking up at the face of the man who is my father, but is also a man I hate.

A coppery, bitter taste fills my mouth, telling me my lip is bleeding. I wipe it gingerly, blinking to help me focus. He’s standing over me, undoing his belt. My heart stutters in my chest. The pain I’m feeling in my wrist takes a back seat to panic, because the look on my father’s face is something I’ve never seen before—and I know what it means when he takes his belt off. His last beating is one I’m not about to forget, and there’s no way he was this mad. That doesn’t bode well at all.

“I’m home before nine-thirty, Dad,” I respond, thinking he’s upset because it’s so close to curfew. He doesn’t like being alone with Mom.

“I’m going to ask you a question, Callie, and you’re going to answer me,” he says, his voice calm and dark, despite his obvious anger.

“O—okay,” I stutter.

“What were you doing at the free clinic with that Reed boy?”

I know my face goes white. I can literally feel the color leeching out. This is bad. So bad. I don’t know how he found out so quickly, but I know that I’m going to pay for it.

“I…who told you that?” I ask, trying to stall until I can think of a way out of here.

“I want an answer,” he demands as he snaps the heavy leather belt he’s holding in his hands. The crack of the leather hitting against itself fills the air. Then, before I can say anything else he releases it with one of his hands and then smacks it hard against my legs.

I have jeans on, but I can feel the burn of the leather against my leg. My entire body jerks. I bite into my lip to keep from crying out. My fingers curl into the carpet.

“I just went with Reed because he had to have tests done,” I whisper, my voice trembling. I’m not quite telling the truth, but not lying either.

“What kind of tests,” Dad pushes, and I search my brain to try and come up with a plausible answer.

“He’s been sick since prom, and they were having a free clinic today. His job doesn’t provide insurance,” I explain, again not lying—but definitely not telling the truth either.

“Why did you have to go with him?” Dad asks, and I can see a little of his anger leaving, but I’m not about to breathe easy just yet.

“We’re best friends, Dad I went there for moral support.”

I stare up into the face of a man that has become a stranger to me in the past five years. He’s so tall that he towers over me. He’s also not a small man. He’s bulky and overweight by at least sixty pounds. He’s built like a linebacker and that’s only part of what makes him dangerous. His hair is the complete opposite of my dark, wavy hair. His is brassy red and curly. I look like my mother. Right now, as I look at the monster he has become, I’m glad. I don’t want to be anything like that man.

I just want him gone.

I can almost see him warring with himself. He’s trying to decide if he should believe me or not. I pray he does because I really need a break. Normally, I’m better prepared to deal with my father. I don’t have that luxury this time, however.

Dad’s been getting worse and worse since Mom’s health has been steadily declining. He’s scared of losing her—that’s probably the only thing the two of us have in common anymore. He has all this pent-up rage and it’s starting to boil over. At first, all he did was throw things and yell at me.

Lately he’s begun slapping me when I upset him. I lied to Reed and made him think that for the most part Dad’s abuse and anger wasn’t getting terrifying.

It is.

This is the first time the attack has been quite this violent though.

“Tell me something, Callie. What would have happened to your mother if she needed you?” he asks, staring at me and I swear, when I look up at him all I see is his hate for me.

“Mom was okay. I checked on her before I left, Dad. I even made sure she ate. I wouldn’t have just left. I even made sure Miss Hague from next door would look in on her until one of us returned.”

“You always have excuses. You really are worthless.”

“Dad, why do you hate me?”

I hadn’t meant to ask the question—I truly hadn’t.

“Callie, go to your room.”

Dad and I both yank around simultaneously to see Mom standing at the end of the hall, her long hair still in the loose braid I gave it this morning. She’s leaning heavily on the wall—even with her walker—and I know the pain she’s feeling has to be intense. Without thinking, I use the wall to support my body and slowly move into a standing position. I go to Mom, ignoring my father, but he’s doing much the same

If there’s ever been one thing that two of us can agree on, it’s our love for my mother. Ever since she was diagnosed with ALS, Dad’s anger with me increased.

“Mommy, you shouldn’t be walking,” I finally respond, helping to bear her weight.

I shouldn’t have bothered, because in the next minute, my father is picking my mother up and carrying her back to her bed. “Go to you room, Callie,” she weakly orders. I nod, knowing that my father won’t let me spend time with my mother anyway. That’s always a part of his punishment. I walk past Mom’s bedroom door into the smallest of three bedrooms in the house—which also happens to be mine. I flop down on the bed, feeling so lost that I can’t even imagine what my next move should be.

“I could hate you for what you’ve done to me, Trena,” I hear Dad growl.

“It’s not Callie’s fault, Niles,” Mom responds.

The walls in this house are paper thin and I can hear them talking as if I was standing right beside them. I’m holding my wrist as I lay on the bed, the pain a steady ache. I think it’s broken but I’m not going to worry about it right now. There’s not much I can do about it anyway. If I tried to leave again, who knows what my dad would do.

“Don’t you think I know that?” he snaps, his voice a low hiss. I press my ear against the wall, in hopes of hearing them better. I don’t know what they’re going to say. Still, it’s me they’re discussing, and I guess I’m just hoping to understand why the father I once adored seems to hate me now.

“You can’t take your anger at me out on her, Niles, it’s not fair. Callie loves you. You’re the only father she’s ever known,” Mom says.

“Except I’m not her father, am I, Trena?”

“Niles,” I hear Mom cry, but my heart has stopped beating. My entire body feels as if it has seized up.

He’s not my father?

“I could hate you for this. God, why can’t I hate you, Trena? You made me believe all this time that we had this beautiful daughter. We got married because you were pregnant, and now, here we are years later with me discovering my entire life has been a lie.”

“Niles, we both know I’m getting worse. I can barely get words out n-now.”

“So? God, how could you think I would want to know this? Why couldn’t you just leave me clueless. Let me think that I was Callie’s father. That you married me because you loved me and not because you were pregnant with nowhere else to go.”

“I do love you,” Mom says.

I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel the tears sliding down my cheeks. I turn, still cradling my wrist and bury my face into the mattress, using it to muffle my tears.

Now, I know why my father hates me.

He’s not my father.