With that thought in mind, I punch her address in the car’s GPS and head to her house. When I see it’s a good twenty minutes away, it makes me feel even worse. My place is literally within five minutes of driving distance, but I also live in a building close to work, only choosing to drive if I have to leave and go to meetings throughout the day. If not, I’ll walk when I can.
Turning into her neighborhood, I see all the houses look similar. I put it all together, realizing it’s a former military home community. The houses are a lot alike in their brick exterior, and every eight or so houses, you can see a different pattern. However, you can see that each family has put their own stamp on their home. Streetlights are starting to light up with dusk settling in the air. Kids are playing hopscotch on the sidewalks, some jumping rope with friends, while others are sitting on the grass talking. I must say Callie picked a pretty amazing neighborhood to raise her daughter.
When the GPS announces that I’ve arrived at my destination, I park on the street behind a couple of other cars. I’m not ready to get out yet, so instead, I sit inside the car and take in Callie’s house. It’s painted white, and the shutters are different from what you’d usually see; instead of them being at the side, the kind that flip up like you’d see the old aluminum or canvas style, these are wood-like and definitely more modern. The black shutters fit perfectly, being the same shade as her metal roof.
She has roses growing along one side of the concrete wall, tall and red, along with well-kept flower beds. Callie must really be busy when I actually gave her the time off she so clearly needed and deserved.
Finally pulling myself out of my thoughts, I get out of my car and make my way to her front porch steps. I’m just about to knock when I hear the laughter that’s coming through the front door with a giggle mixed in. I’m almost tempted to turn around and leave, to let Callie go, but she at least warrants an apology from me, if nothing else.
“Hello.” A little girl opens the door once I finally knock, and she takes my breath away. She’s even prettier than the picture I saw.
“Uh, hello. Is your mom around?” I ask.
“Yes, hold on a second.” She leaves the door cracked open and yells, “Mom! There’s some guy in a suit at the door.”
“Clairabella Ann, what have I told you about opening the door without me?” I hear Callie tell her.
“Sorry, Momma. I won’t do it again.” Something tells me she will, though.
“It’s okay. I only want you to be safe. I can’t have my Claira getting hurt.” Callie makes a kissing noise, and they both laugh. It gives me hope that maybe this won’t go as badly as I think it will.
I listen to the footsteps until Callie opens the door more. Her eyes are as big as saucers when she sees me standing at her door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize.” I run my fingers through my hair, more nervous than I’ve ever felt before. Not having anything else to do with my hands, I place them in my pockets.
“I think we’ve said all we needed to say to each other. I can’t believe you’re even here. Who does this?”
“A person who knows he fucked up. Sorry, screwed up.” I take a look around her, making sure her daughter isn’t behind her.
“Oh, you owe the swear jar a whole dollar. Tell him, Momma,” Claira says.
“Not right now, honey. Go back in the kitchen with your aunties, please,” Callie says calmly.
“Fine, but he still owes. A swear word is a swear word, and he should pay up.” She stomps off with her hands crossed over her chest.
“You need to go. Everything is said and done. There’s nothing more to say to one another.” She turns, leaving me speechless once again, before closing the door with a soft click.
5
Callie
“Well, you’ve got to hand it to him. At least he’s apologizing. Do you know how hard that has to be for that type of man?” Lyla says as I walk into the kitchen. I stare at her because I know she’s right, yet I still don’t care.
“He’s still a D-I-C-K,” Presley spells out from impeding little ears.
“What’s done is done. I’m not dealing with it right now. Tonight, we’re going to continue to gab, eat, and drink. Well, until your menfolk come and get you. I need details. How are my nephew and niece?” I ask Lyla and Presley.
“Your niece does nothing besides eat, sleep, and have Colt wrapped around her finger. The minute Brently makes a peep of noise, he’s up and swooping her into his arms. It’s the hottest damn thing, seeing my husband hold our daughter, but boy will she be a spoiled thing,” Lyla responds.