Page 116 of Like You Want It
“Take your stuff home. Right this minute.” I’m surprised by the fury in my voice. My brother is an amazing man. Most of the time. But he’s also a guy who doesn’t know who he is when he’s not in control. When things are imperfect. When all the pieces don’t fit perfectly. “I love you Caleb, but you are making ahugemistake.”
“Oh, so it’s okay for you to point out I’m making a mistake but I can’t say anything about you?”
“That’s different and youknowit.” The words are gritted out, through clamped teeth. I can’t believe he’d bring that up right now.
Suddenly, there’s a welling in my chest. A fountain of words that I can’t hold back.
“You and dad have been calling my entire life a mistake since the moment I was born. This is the one time in my entire life when I am going tobegyou not to make a drastic mistake that will devastate your daughter. This isn’t about you, Caleb. Or about Christine. This is about Ari.”
There’s a pause, and when I glance over at my dad, I see a stricken look on his face.
“What do you mean?” he asks, the confusion and concern overtaking his entire body. “I’ve never… I don’t believe you’re a mistake. Carly, you can’t…”
I shake my head. “I’m not getting into that right now.” I turn back to Caleb, who has tears in his eyes. “How would you have felt as a child if you came home one day and mom or dad were just… gone.”
“I’ll explain it to her.”
“Oh really? You’ll tell your three-year-old all about it? Why she came home and all your stuff was gone?”
He looks away from me.
“I’ve never been a fan of Christine. Obviously I’ll never be able to live down theone timethat I confronted you about her. But that is my own cross to bear, and I am not going to dismiss your behavior right now just because I don’t like your girlfriend.”
“Fiancé.”
“Semantics. And, honestly Caleb, is she really anything right now? Because it looks to me like you packed up and left them both.”
Caleb’s silent, his eyes downcast, his arms crossed.
“This is thewrongway to handle your relationship, Caleb. You have done this your entire life. You ignore problems. Pretend they don’t exist. Believe they’re someone else’s responsibility. You can’t do this now. This is your family. You have to work at it. Sweat through it. Dig in deep and make it work until you just can’t hold on any longer. Can you honestly say you’ve done that?”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Even if you have, if you’ve done everything in your power to work things out with Christine, and you still believe ending things is the best choice, you still owe it to your daughter to talk to Christine about this before just picking up and leaving.”
Caleb looks at me, then at dad, and I wonder what thoughts are going through his mind. He’s never been one of those men who are easily readable. His emotions are veiled, hidden behind logic and rational thought.
Which is why I’m so confused right now.
The two of them arguing and Christine going to her mother’s for a few days? I can see that happening.
Caleb storming out with his suitcases in-tow? I just don’t get it. That isn’t a logical or rational choice.
Before I can ask, though, Caleb barrels out of the room, through the house, and into the backyard. When I step out into the hall and look that way, I can see him sitting on the back porch swing that he installed when he was a junior in high school.
He’d wanted to impress his girlfriend at the time. They’d only lasted a few months. But I got years out of that swing. I loved every minute in it. My mom and I used to sit there together and plan the adventures we were gonna go on. Everywhere in the world, that’s where we wanted to go. Greece. Italy. Alaska. Antarctica.
It was always fun, doing that. Imagining with her.
And then she was gone, and I had to do it alone. Oh what I wouldn’t give to have her back to talk with her about so many things.
“Carly.”
I turn and look at my dad, who still looks incredibly upset where he leans against the counter.
“Yeah?”
He steps towards me, looking like he has so many things he wants to say. But when he finally speaks, I am utterly disappointed.
