Page 60 of Befriending the Bear
“God, yes.” I followed him, letting the warmth of the house seep into my bones. He moved with his usual grace, pulling mugs from the cabinet and setting the kettle on without a word. Somehow, we always fell into a rhythm in his kitchen, like a song we both knew by heart.
I leaned against the counter, watching him move, feeling that quiet contentment that had become my new normal. If you’d told me a year ago I’d be spending a snowy afternoon in a small town with a poet-librarian who looked like he’d stepped out of a dream, I would’ve laughed. Yet here I was. Still stunned by the sheer rightness of it all.
Then his phone rang. Nothing unusual about that, except we both froze.
He checked the screen.
“It’s m-my mother,” he said, his voice already quieter, thinner.
I stepped forward instinctively. “You don’t have to answer.”
“I do.” He gave me a small, tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “She’ll keep calling if I d-don’t.”
I nodded, brushing my fingers along his wrist as he answered, putting it on speaker. He grabbed my hand, and I stayed right next to him.
“Hello, M-M-Mother.”
His back was rigid, shoulders drawn in like he was bracing for impact, and his voice was so controlled, so careful.
“Calloway. I’m calling to get your flight information.”
“F-for what?”
“For Christmas, of course. You’re celebrating with us.”
She delivered it as a statement, which was baffling because I knew Calloway had not agreed to this.
“No, M-Mother, I w-won’t be c-coming to Florida f-for Christmas.” His stutter was back in full force now, making him trip over every other word. I hated that she did this to him, that she made him feel like he had to defend his life, his choices, his very existence. “I already t-t-told you?—”
“But you need to get out of that dreary town and catch some sunshine. It’ll be good for you.”
“N-no, I don’t want to l-leave Forestville. I’m st-staying here.”
“If you always stay in the same place, nothing will ever change. You’ll always be…like this.”
I had to fight to keep myself from reacting because the implication was clear.
“I’m not br-br-broken.”
That last word was a whisper, but it landed like a thunderclap in my chest. Calloway was holding on to me with all his might, his other hand gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white.
“I’m n-not broken,” he repeated, stronger this time. “And if you c-c-can’t accept that, then you n-n-need to st-stop calling me.”
A pause. A long one. I thought maybe she’d ended the call.
When her voice came back, it was quiet, shaky, and nothing like her previous cocky self-assuredness. “Calloway…” A single, trembling word that sounded like it had splintered something inside her.
Calloway’s hand on my arm tightened.
“I’m sorry…” A quiet gasp flew from Calloway’s lips. “I never wanted to hurt you. I only ever wanted to make things easier. I thought… I thought if I could just fix the stutter, I could atone for what I did, for how I failed you.”
Calloway made a small sound, almost like a whimper. I wasn’t sure if his mother even heard it.
“I remember that day in excruciating detail. Your cousins were so rambunctious, and I was worried they’d be mean to you. But you wanted to play with them so badly, and I didn’t want to disappoint you. And so I let you go.” Her voice broke. “And I had to use the bathroom, and your dad walked with me ’cause I wasn’t sure where it was. Five minutes. We were gone for five minutes.”
She sniffled a few times, and when she spoke again, her voice was trembling.
“I’ve thought about that moment every day for forty-three years. Wondering what would’ve happened if I’d just kept my eyes on you. If I’d said no. If I’d kept you with me. If I hadn’t gone to the bathroom…”
