Page 15 of Endgame

7

CALLAWAY

How haveI not noticed her?

In my defense, I haven’t had many opportunitiestonotice Dakota. Navy has talked my ear off about her time and time again, but we managed to miss each other every time.

When Navy attended college at the University of Georgia, she called weekly to give her “proof of life” check-ins per Dad’s request.

Usually, it was the same story,this class, that class, this party, this friend, Dakota,but never once did I think to ask about the friend she always mentioned.

Time has surely passed since Navy was in college with her being twenty-eight now. The pieces are now coming together, especially the pieces of the beauty who made me question everything I ever thought I knew aboutmy typeof woman.

My memory may be a little hazy since I was knee-deep in minor league pressure, hoping to be called up to the big leagues. I didn’t notice much of anything but the game. I guess that’s my fault for being so busy I didn’t have much time to come home.

However, I do remember a particular Facetime call I had with Navy during her senior year. She was studying in her dorm with a certain roommate, Dakota, and it was the one time in my existence as Navy’s brother that she sought out my advice.

I’m not wise and aged by any means. However, at thirty, I’ve experienced a lot more in life than most men my age. Pitying myself does nothing for me, so I do my best to lean into the positive and be grateful I’m still here. I know Navy loves and depends on me, but fuck if it isn’t a heavy weight to carry.

One I will gladly do, but still heavy.

She and I didn’t meet until I was fifteen to her thirteen. Growing up in the foster system, the chance of a decent family adopting a teenager like me who was practically aged out of the system is a rarity and one I count my blessings for every day.

I still remember the first day the Hayes family brought me home. Navy looked me dead in the eyes; I didn't know if she was going to hug me or hit me. Her head was held high as she whispered in my ear with the snarkiest little attitude, “Hands off my soda. They’re labeled, and I go feral over them. Mom hides stashes of Reese’s in the couch corners. Save me some, and we will get along fine. Welcome to the fam, Cal.”For only being thirteen, the girl had a bite. I knew I would fit in fine. All bets were off when I saw my new sister; I would protect her at all costs. She’s been the best friend I never knew I needed since.

You don’t fully understand culture shock unless you’ve lived in a single-wide trailer cluttered in filth. My childhood experience served me with bed bugs infesting the mattress I laid my head on at night, and cigarette butts littered thestained carpet because my mom was too high to stand and use a proper trash can.

In contrast, my new family felt like waking up from a dream, a perfect and too good to be truedream. It was the first time in my life I could remember not fighting to stay awake for hours, knowing once I succumbed to sleep, the nightmares would invade.

It makes sense why I operate best on order and discipline. I like control. I thrive on it. My birth mom made sure of it without even trying.

My adopted mother, Delilah, always had some decadent dessert baking and Dolly Parton blasting on the record player. She’s old school like that. It might be strange to some, but I could bathe in the happiness it brought me. Dad always had and still has his head underneath the hood of an old car.

Fixing cars was the hobby he picked up shortly after retiring from the post office. He spent thirty years of his life dedicated as a postman, realizing after he retired that he needed to find a fun and productive outlet for himself.

I low-key think he drove my mom insane with his boredom.

They love each other in a sickly, pure, and profound way. They respect each other’s space and value the need to be their own people even while doing life with one another. Which is why I felt a strong sense of pride that Navy felt the need to call and ask for my advice, except it wasn’t advice for her, but for Dakota.

I can recall the conversation.

“Cal, we need some advice. Well, Dakota here does, and you're a guy, so who better to ask than you.”

“Navy, you wonder why mom and dad live in a constant state of worry about you. But hit me, how can I help?”

“Okay, so here’s the thing, Dakota’s boyfriend refuses tomeet her parents after two years together. Two years. He says it’s too soon, and he’s not ready for the next step. I call bullshit. They live together, Cal. All signs point to he’s a coward, and this should have been stepped on months ago, but your boyfriend is too big of a chicken shit to do it. Sorry, Kodi, you know I love you, but your taste in men sucks.”

I instantly feel enraged for Dakota, not with her, but for her. It makes me livid that men get away with childish behavior, and women are expected to take it. Screw that. I’m Team Woman, and Dakota needs to dodge this bullet before it lands somewhere permanent.

I need to tread carefully, though.

I don’t want to hurt the girl's feelings by being too intense, so I resort to a calm approach, “I’m probably not the best person to ask for dating advice, but after watching our parents' example, I know his logic couldn’t be more wrong. I don’t know your relationship, Dakota, but I can already tell you deserve better. And if he can’t see that, then he can fuck off and be gone. That’s my two cents.”

She’s probably better off asking a woman, but that’s the best I’ve got.

I’ve now witnessed firsthand how that relationship ended. He’s lucky I wasn’t there in person to witness his tone with Dakota; I’d have roughed him up a good one.

Again, none of my business, but the prick seems better fit for a turtle than a woman.

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