Blossom for Me

Pat opened the car door for Callie and she stepped out and into the cool, Arizona evening air. He looped his arm protectively around her shoulders as they trailed behind his older brother, Tim, up the stone path to the forest green front door. Without a second thought, like this house was his own, Tim placed his hand on the golden knob and opened the door, Pat and Callie not far behind. They entered a large foyer, brightly lit by a large sunroof overhead. The walls were a pale yellow and hung there were countless photos of the family and its three boys. The three had seen the pictures and paintings that also adorned the walls so many times, they didn’t even pay any mind to them. They just went straight through the hallways that led to the kitchen and from there, straight down to the basement the family had remodeled into the children’s game room.

Upon entering the large bottom floor space, the Kirch boys and Callie were met with quite a few familiar faces. Opposite the stairs was a long, red sectional sofa. A boy with vibrant, ginger-red hair was already sprawled across its length, his face glued to the large television hanging on the wall. A blonde-haired girl sat beside him with a small cell-phone in her hands, her tiny thumbs flying across the keys of the ‘qwerty’ pad. Beside the sofa was an old, shabby-looking recliner that looked like it belonged back in the 1970s with a thin brown-haired boy already placed sloppily on it. He turned around in his seat when he heard the group of three descend into the room and threw them each a wide grin. As his eyes landed on Callie, he shot out of the chair and padded across the soft carpet towards her. Callie smiled back at him and threw her arms around his shoulders as he pulled her into a hug.

“How’re you feeling, babe?” he whispered into her ear. Worry still coated his words, and his face held the same concern as that of an overprotective mother. Guilt washed over her and her heart slowly broke to pieces, thinking about how much Kennedy was worrying over her, and she couldn’t even tell him what was wrong. Her eyes shifted across the room where Pat was sitting already and caught the sympathetic smile that he sent her way. Her stomach clenched and she looked away, feeling guiltier as the seconds passed. She wouldn’t be able to even tell Pat what it was. And that hurt even more because he was her absolute best friend.

Callie pulled back so she could look Kennedy in the eyes and said softly, “I’m okay.”

He gave her a warm smile and let her go. She followed Pat towards the rest of the group and said her hellos to her friends. She sat at the foot of the sectional beside Pat and Jared’s head and laid out a pillow across her legs. She crossed her legs underneath her and began smoothing the fabric beneath her dainty fingers, pulling absentmindedly at a loose thread at one corner of the cushion, just to do something. Around her, the group of friends was making mindless chatter while they waited for the remaining members of their group to show up.

“God, where the Hell is John O’?” Ashleigh whined, leaning back against the cushions of the sofa. “He was supposed to be here already with the chips and sodas.”

“Seriously,” Kennedy agreed, nodding his head at everyone. “This is ridiculous. John said he was only going to take fifteen minutes.”

Jared shot him a cheeky grin from his lying position on the sofa as he said, “Don’t worry, Ken. Movie night’s at my pad next week. Y’know my hosting skills are boss.”

Everyone seemed to roll their eyes, but no one denied or agreed with him. They all knew it was true, though. Movie night had become a tradition for as long as they could remember being friends. It was a well thought out cycle that they’d been doing forever. Every Sunday at one of their houses—Jared’s, the Nickelsens’, the Kirchs’, Kennedy’s, the Halvorsens’, John’s, and then back to Jared’s again to start over the cycle—they would all get together around a television for a few hours and watch a myriad of movies. The Nickelsens’ house was nice because they had a large swimming pool. When it was their turn to host, the entire group would gather in the morning and spend the entire day in the water and under the blazing sun, before they headed up to the game room on the second flat. Kennedy’s and the Halvorsen’s houses were much the same. Their houses were smaller and cozier; Callie particularly liked Kennedy’s house the best because it was so homey and everyone had to cram into the living room. A lot of them liked John’s and the Kirchs’ because John had the basement and Tim and Pat had the coolest parents, but Jared’s place was by far the best out of all the houses. He owned a projector that they used to watch the movies on the side of the house and they would camp out in the porch, making forts and laying in clusters and clusters of pillows and blankets. Callie looked forward to Jared’s turn to host solely for the fact that every time, after they’d finished watching the movies and had settled to sleep, she would wake up early in the morning and climb up the side of his house to watch the Arizona sun rise behind the mountains.

It was the most peaceful time of the day, when the sun slowly peeked behind the mountains on the horizon and gently rose up in the endless blue sky. It was the one moment she had to herself, when the entire world—or all of Arizona, really—was still asleep. To her, she could feel like the only person in the world, and although most would think that that would have to be the worst thought, it was a feeling she enjoyed. Callie didn’t think of the loneliness; she thought of how in that one moment, when it was just her and the sun, everything was at peace. There were no bustling cars, no rowdy children, no stupid fights and ridiculous drama teenagers always got themselves into. She felt a certain euphoria sitting up on that roof, staring into the distance, and she loved that feeling.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” a tall boy chanted as he ran down the stairs with a number of plastic bags in his hands. His cheeks were red and he was out of breath. His hair looked messier than usual, but it could have been just another one of his styles, Callie didn’t know. He threw the bags on the floor and started emptying their contents on the coffee table. He’d purchased countless cans of root beer and coke, because their friends drank that stuff like water, and bags and bags of chips: corn chips and potato chips, cheesy chips and the spicy ‘flamin’ hot’ kind. Callie felt her stomach churn just looking at all that junk food. The boy pulled out a large bottle of water and a jug of Arizona ice tea, her name already written in big block letters on both of the plastic. She smiled widely and took them into her arms before any of the boys could get their hands on them, silently thanking the boy with her eyes.

“What took you so long, John?” Kennedy complained, shooting the taller boy an irritated look, just as a couple of teenagers tumbled down the staircase.

The tall boy glanced momentarily at the newcomers and then scoffed, rolling his eyes like a girl on her rag who thought everything was stupid. Hooking his thumb in the couple’s general direction, where they were walking hand in hand and speaking softly to one another as if it were only them two in the entire room, John said, “I had to give these fools a ride ‘cause apparently that idiot drove right into a pole yesterday morning, and now it’s in the shop.”

Garrett looked up from where he was at the bottom of the stairs, where he and a short brown-haired girl stood in a semi-embrace, and was met with John’s stink-eye. The boy’s glare should have made him cower because he knew John was bigger and taller and older than he, but it only made him crack a smile because he also knew John was the biggest pussy out of all his friends. He just waved them off and pulled the girl by the arm delicately into the room, to where all his friends congregated by the television. He sat cross-legged onto the carpeted floor and pulled the girl on his arm down with him, into his lap, wrapping his arms around her petite frame and resting his head on her shoulder.

Callie felt the familiar tug at her heartstrings and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Garrett was staring at her with a look of contempt she knew she probably deserved—but it didn’t mean she liked it. Their eyes only met for a moment before he turned away and whispered something into Willow’s ear, making her flush the brightest red and giggle softly into her tiny hand. Almost at once it was like she wasn’t even there. It was as if they weren’t best friends, much less acquaintances. What hurt the most was that he didn’t acknowledge her; it was like they hadn’t known each other for years. She felt like a stranger to him. It made Callie feel like Garrett was throwing away their friendship for a petty argument. But that was the thing. Their argument yesterday hadn’t been just petty. It ran deeper. Callie had hit a sore spot; she’d crossed the line, and she knew it. She also knew that Garrett was not going to forgive her that easily.

What scared her to death was the thought of Garrett never forgiving her for what she said. They had never fought like this before. They had their arguments—these little, petty fights that lasted a few seconds—and then they would act as if nothing happened and go back to the way things were, but Garrett did not seem to want to forget as fast. She was terrified of losing him—her best friend, her confidante. Callie couldn’t fathom losing him. It was like losing a brother, or a soulmate; it was like losing a part of one’s self. She didn’t want to feel that, she didn’t want to carry the guilt that she had been the one to tear their friendship apart because she was letting her feelings for him get the better of her. She couldn’t afford to do something like that. It would break her.

She let out a sigh and rested her head on Pat’s shoulder. He turned his head to look down at her, but her face was hidden behind her hair. So, he brushed it away before looping his arm around her again and pulling her into him, so they were both sitting comfortably. She curled into his chest and pressed her ear to his heart, letting the quiet thud of his major organ beating slowly lull her. She just wanted to disappear. She couldn’t bear feeling this shame and pain she was feeling now. But she couldn’t ask Pat to take her home—not unless she wanted everyone to ask questions. Kennedy would surely do that. Then the boys would find out she was like this because of Garrett and Garrett would be even angrier with her. The boys couldn’t know what happened. She couldn’t let Garrett get anymore mad at her. She just had to suck it up.

But the minute she raised her head, she regretted that instantly. She couldn’t do it; she was too emotional, too vulnerable. It was too much. Garrett and Willow were in the most intimate embrace she’d seen and so helplessly dreamt she and Garrett could be in, and this was breaking her apart. She felt her heart shattering in her chest and wondered somberly if anyone else could hear it fall to pieces. She buried her face in Pat’s chest again and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle, willing herself to fall asleep or at least block out everything she heard and felt and thought. Just everything.

Pat ran his fingers down her back in a comforting manner and let it lull her more to sleep. He pushed some hair from her face as her breathing evened. She heard Eric and Lisa, and the last of their group, finally arrive in a loud rush down the stairs. Then the lights were off and she heard the surround sound start up and the movie begin. The room was finally quiet, save for the film playing on John’s TV, and Callie allowed herself to fall away from her thoughts and block everything out.

“Is she asleep?”

“I don’t know…Cal…Cal, are you—”

“Don’t wake her up.”

“Sorry. Yeah, she’s, I guess, sleeping.”

“John.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Take her to your room. She’s passed out.”

“Oh, shit. Cal’s like dead asleep.”

“Stop laughing and just get her upstairs, so she can rest.”

“Chill, Pat. God.”

“Just go.”

Callie was hoisted into the air and then she felt herself rise. The person carrying her held her delicately in his arms as he climbed up the stairs to the main floor and then another flight of stairs to the second flat. She remained still, pretending to sleep, or trying to fall back into her slumber, at least. A bedroom door opened and then Callie was put down softly on the bed. Fingers brushed her hair away and she stirred slightly, letting her eyes flutter open.

John was looking down at her with a soft smile and she returned it half-heartedly. It was a poor attempt because the next second John was frowning back at her. She climbed under the sheets and curled into a ball while John watched her, and then she looked up at him in the silence and darkness of his bedroom.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugged, but didn’t answer him. She just nuzzled her face into one of his pillows, inhaling his natural scent, and closing her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” John said, getting up.

Callie didn’t know what willed her to do it, but her arm shot out from under the cover and she grabbed onto John’s hand. Her eyes were open and staring into his green orbs. They stared at each other, frozen, until she finally blinked and said, “Stay.”

John got under the covers with her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into him until their faces were almost pressing each other. She closed her eyes and allowed the comfort and fatigue to rush over her like a wave, wiping out all her thoughts, and just letting herself sleep with John beside her. While Callie fell asleep in his arms, John was left to wonder in the dark, yet another boy to wonder, what was wrong with Callie.