Chapter 8 FRAGMENTS OF PAST AND PRESENT

CALLIOPE

"Calliope!" Julia gasps, leaping into action. She grabs the napkins from the counter and dabs furiously at the mess.

"Sorry," I mutter, fumbling to answer the call while Julia works to salvage the table and my dignity. My heart sinks when I see the caller ID: Mom.

I hesitate for a moment before swiping to answer.

"Hello?"

"Calliope, your dad wants to speak to you," her familiar voice announces, followed by the muffled sound of someone groaning in the background. "He wants to thank you."

"For what?" He has his own phone and my number. He can call me if he wants to.

There's a brief shuffle, then his gruff voice crackles through the line. "Thanks for sending the money," he grumbles, his words slurred and heavy. "I guess it'll help."

I clench my jaw. He's drunk again.

"You're welcome," I say tightly.

The phone shifts again, and my mom's voice returns, softer now but with an edge I've known all my life. "Calliope, when are you coming to visit? It's been months."

I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. The memories flash unbidden-my dad stumbling through the front door, bottles in hand; my mom pleading with him as he screamed, threw things, and hit her. The bruises she tried to hide but never left.

"I can't," I say, my tone colder than I intend. "I'm busy with work."

"Busy?" she says, her tone hardening. "You're always busy. Your father's debts aren't even close to paid off, and you think you can just disappear into that city life of yours?"

"I'm helping the only way I can," I snap, anger bubbling up.

"You think you're too good for us now, don't you?" she says bitterly. "You've always had that look about you, Miss City Girl."

"Mom, I have to go," I say sharply, cutting her off before she can say more.

"Fine," she says, but I can hear the disappointment dripping from her words. "But don't forget who raised you, Calliope. We're still your family."

The line goes dead, and I'm left staring at the screen, my hand trembling slightly.

"You okay?" Julia's voice breaks through the haze.

I glance up to see her watching me, the napkins now discarded. She's perched on the counter, concern etched across her face.

"I'm fine," I lie, forcing a smile.

She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push. Instead, she slides off the counter, grabbing her purse. "I'm going to work now and I will grab groceries on my way back. I'm thinking we do steamed beans pudding tonight. You in?"

I nod absently, my mind still elsewhere.

"Great," she says, pausing by the door. "I'll be back in a bit. Try not to overthink things while I'm gone."

Once the door clicks shut behind her, I find myself slumped on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. I wish it were already Monday so I could throw myself into work. Fridays and weekends always feel endless, stretching out with too much time for my thoughts to spiral.

---

When Julia returns, the scent of fresh vegetables and spices fills the air as she unpacks the groceries.

"Come on, Callie," she says, using the nickname she knows I hate but says anyway. "Help me with this. It'll take your mind off...whatever's got you brooding."

I roll my eyes but join her in the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping of onions and peppers, the bubbling of the pudding on the stove-it's all oddly comforting.

"I still don't get it," Julia says, stirring the pot. "You've never dated anyone? Never even been in love?"

"Nope," I say simply, leaning against the counter. I met Julia when I first moved here, two years ago. We met through one a former classmate and since we both needed a roommate, it made sense to move in together.

She gives me a disbelieving look. "Why? You're gorgeous, smart, and have this...mysterious vibe. Guys love that."

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. "I just never felt the need. Plus, most guys don't impress me."

Julia snorts. "That's because you're too hard on them. Nobody's perfect, Callie."

"Maybe not, but I'm not settling either."

She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."

"And you're not?" I counter. "You're the one who stayed with a guy who cheated on you for two years."

Her smile falters, and I instantly regret my words.

"That was different," she says quietly, stirring the pot again. "I thought I loved him."

I reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Julia. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," she says, brushing it off with a forced smile. "We all make mistakes, right? At least now I know what I don't want."

---

The weekend stretches out before us, and Julia suggests biking to the beach.

"It'll be fun," she says, her enthusiasm infectious. "You need some sunshine and saltwater in your life."

We dress in matching baby-blue bikinis, tying on knit cover-ups and seashell jewelry. Bandanas keep our hair out of our faces as we pedal through the city, our laughter echoing down the streets.

The beach is alive-waves crashing, children laughing, and seagulls cawing overhead. We find a spot near the shore, laying out our towels before running into the water.

The cold shock of the ocean sends a thrill through me, washing away the stress of the past few days. Julia and I splash each other like kids, our laughter blending with the roaring of waves.

Later, we lounge on our towels, eating slices of fresh pineapple from a nearby vendor. The juice drips down my fingers, sticky and sweet, as the sun warms my skin.

"This is nice," Julia says, her voice soft.

"Yeah," I agree, closing my eyes and letting the sun soak into me. For the first time in a long time, I feel a small sense of peace.

As the afternoon stretches on, we decide to head back. Our bikes glide over the sandy paths, the breeze tugging at the bandanas tied around our heads. The motion of pedaling is almost meditative, lulling me into calm.

That calm is shattered when Julia suddenly brakes hard, nearly sending me crashing into her.

"What the-" I start to say, but then I see what stopped her.

A tiny kitten, no bigger than the size of my palm, sits in the middle of the road. Its orange fur is matted and dirty, and its wide green eyes stare up at us with fear.

"Calliope!" Julia exclaims, hopping off her bike and crouching down. "Look at it! It's adorable!"

"It's filthy," I say, wrinkling my nose.

"Exactly! It needs us!" she says, carefully scooping the kitten up. It lets out a tiny meow, its frail body trembling in her hands.

"No," I say firmly, already seeing where this is going.

"Please?" she begs, cradling the kitten against her chest. "It's all alone, Callie. We can't just leave it here!"

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Fine. But it's your responsibility."

Julia beams, holding the kitten up like a trophy. "You hear that, little guy? You've got a new home!"

The kitten lets out another soft meow, and despite myself, I feel a twinge of warmth.

---

We bike straight to a pet store, the kitten riding in the basket of Julia's bike. Every so often, it pokes its head up, blinking at the world around it. Julia insists on buying everything it could possibly need-food, a bed, toys, even a tiny collar with a bell.

"You're going overboard," I tell her as she loads up the cart.

"Nothing's too good for my baby," she says, grinning.

When we get home, we immediately set to work cleaning the kitten. Julia holds it gently in the sink while I rinse the grime from its fur. It squirms and meows pitifully, but by the time we're done, it's a completely different animal.

Its fur is a soft, vibrant orange now, and its green eyes seem even brighter.

"It's a girl," Julia announces after inspecting it.

"Great," I say dryly. "What are you naming her?"

She thinks for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. Then her face lights up.

"Pumpkin," she says.

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling.

---

That night, Pumpkin curls up in Julia's lap as we sit on the couch, watching a movie. I'm halfway through a bowl of popcorn when Julia nudges me.

"See?" she says, holding Pumpkin up to my face. "She's perfect."

"She's fine," I admit grudgingly, scratching behind the kitten's ears.

Julia smirks, satisfied.

As the credits roll, I glance out the window. The city lights twinkle against the dark sky, and for the first time in a while, I feel...okay.