Page 38 of My Song for You
It had felt like anything but a mistake.
The only mistake was when I lashed out at her and told her it wouldn’t be repeated. The last thing I was ready to do was walk away from Callie yet again.
And I suspected it had to do with more than just wanting to be friends.
A lot more.
I drove aimlessly around L.A., my mind careening everywhere. To the conversations I’d had with Callie since first bumping into her at the store. Mason’s comments at practice today. The similarities between myself and Logan that I couldn’t ignore.
It wasn’t until I pulled into my parents’ driveway an hour later that I realized my driving hadn’t been aimless after all. Deep down, I knew what I had to do.
I rang the doorbell. Mom answered it a moment later.
“Is everything all right?” She opened the door wider to let me in.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because it’s Tuesday night. You’re five days early for Sunday dinner.”
I smirked. “What, that’s the only time I’m allowed to visit my parents?”
“Hey, you know I’m always thrilled to see you and your sister.” She hugged me. “It’s just very unexpected.”
So was my reason for being here.
“I was just wondering if you have any photos of me when I was four or five.”
“Of course we do. It will just take some time to go through the pictures to find them.”
She led me to the guest room and pulled from the bookshelf several narrow plastic boxes, each containing a couple hundred photos. “Unfortunately, your father wasn’t into organizing photos until after we got the digital camera.”
We both grabbed several boxes and carried them downstairs to the kitchen. We spent the next hour at the table sorting through pile after pile of photos. Since they had dates printed on the back, Mom decided this was as good a time as any to start organizing them.
“I have some bad news about Callie’s parents,” I finally said, after deliberating over the best way to tell her. “They died a few years ago in a car accident.”
“Oh, God.” Mom’s hand flew to her mouth. “No wonder Violet never returned my call. How are Callie and Alexis doing?”
“I don’t know about Alexis, but Callie’s still hurting.”
We continued searching through the photos.
“Here’s one of us when we were camping during spring break.” Mom turned it over and read the date. “You’re about four in it.”
I took it from her and studied the picture. Kristen and I, along with Mom and Dad, were standing in front of the rowboat, waiting for Dad to take us out on the lake. Both Kristen and I had fishing rods. Unlike Kristen’s, mine was nothing more than a toy. We were all grinning.
The similarities between Logan and four-year-old me were startling. Both of us had the same amount of wave in our hair that caused the ends to curl up. We both had the same face shape, with the chubbiness in the cheeks that came with being four. And we both had the same dimples.
If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn that Logan and I could’ve been brothers—with twenty-two years between us. The one thing I did know was that Logan couldn’t possibly be mine. Callie and I had never had sex. That much I could guarantee.
Whoever his father was must look a lot like me. That was all there was to it.
“Can I keep this?” I asked.
“Sure. Do you want any more?” Mom handed me another photo. In it I was holding my first guitar. It had been just a toy, but back then it had felt real to me.
“I’ll keep these two. Thanks.” I helped Mom finish organizing the photos. “Does a birth certificate include the father’s name?”
“Your father’s name is on yours, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mom said, peering at me with her usual astute eyes. With Kristen and me as her kids, she’d learned that what we said wasn’t always what we meant. We’d been skilled at skirting the issue—and she had been equally talented at getting the truth from us. But for now, she was calmly waiting for me to reveal the real reason for my question.
