Page 45 of You Spin Me

“You didn’t kiss that cheek for two whole years,” I mutter.

Her breath hitches. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember that.”

A sob shudders past her lips as her head drops like a rock. “I’m so sorry, Cal.”

Shit. Now I’ve made my mom cry. Could I be more of an asshole? “Stop it, Ma.I’msorry. It’s not your fault.”

Nodding slowly, she lifts her chin, but her smile is wobbly. “You’re right. I didn’t kiss the left side of your face. Not because I didn’t still love it, or you, but because I was afraid I’d hurt you. But one day I noticed you resting your cheek on your hand, like anyone would. I called the doctor to make sure I wouldn’t make things worse by kissing the healing scars, and he said of course not. So I decided to make sure you knew that I loved every bit of you. I still do. Even when you’re grumpy.”

Back then, I was afraid to ask why things had changed, why she suddenly started kissing my scars. I was afraid if I did, she might stop.

She squeezes my ankle one more time before standing. “I want you to be happy, Cal. You deserve to be happy. You know that, right?”

Making myself smile as I meet her gaze, because I’ve caused her enough pain as it is, I serve up a bald-faced lie. “Yeah, of course I do. Now let me take a nap.”

Five minutesinto my shift Monday night, Talia slaps the Jessica sign on the window. I take a deep breath before answering with the regular old phone. I don’t trust myself with that headset. “Cal here.”

“Cal, I am so, so sorry about Friday night. The guys told me that I called you, but I don’t remember any of it.” She groans. “And let me tell you, I paid for drinking that whiskey the whole next day. Never again.”

“How much did those guys give you?”

“They said it was just one shot.”

“And you believe them?” When the receiver squeaks in my hand, I realize I’ve got it in a death grip. “No one did anything? I mean, you were alone up there with three men, and I?—”

“It’s okay, Cal. They’re good guys, they’re all in relationships. I’ve met their partners. I’m just a lightweight.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath to try and slow my heart. “I was worried.”

“I’m so sorry. And then I didn’t have any way to call you all weekend, so?—”

“Yeah, about that. Maybe we should exchange numbers. I’ve needed to tell you something since Friday. I actually owe you an apology.”

“I’m sure whatever you’re sorry for has nothing on a girl passing out on you mid-telephone call.”

“Don’t be so sure.” I hate to risk dimming the light in her voice, but I may as well get it over with. “During our phone call last week, when you told me about what happened at rehearsal and your dyslexia?—”

“Man, was that just last week? It seems forever ago.”

“Yeah, well, it was Thursday, to be exact. Thing is, I accidentally played you live. I’m so sorry about that, but I need your retroactive permission to play your voice on the air.”

“Wait, what?”

“When I plugged in the new headset, I hooked you into a live feed.”

“So all of Boston knows I have a learning disability?”

“Well, lucky for you, my audience isn’t quite that big.”

“Lucky for me?”

“Jess, I’m so sorry. Obviously, I would never share things we talk about?—”

“Except you did.”

“I did but it was a total accident. I’m not using that headset again, at least until I know I have it figured out.”

---