Being Kalli(48)

“See Mum … I know—I’ve heard it from both of you, how long it’s been. Just hear me out.” I pause, not sure why because I’m not inviting her to say her piece. Just before I start, and she hasn’t said a word yet, I know it’s because I’m testing to see how invested she is, if she is willing to see Mum, hoping I have the magic beans.

“How do you forgive after a massive blow out like that? I just keep thinking of scenarios, and two pop into my head. One is you see each other and, flooded with memories that erase any harsh feeling, you hop right into hanging out in the same breath. Or, you smile when you greet, ask how she is, see if she still has sugar with her coffee. You leave, and feel like you made it. I think I know which it’ll be for both of you.”

Still, Aunty Nicole waits.

So, I add, “The thing is, why aren’t I as lucky with my blow out?” But I’m not done. I inch the phone away and grunt, “Hm?” as if the electronics in the phone can answer that one. I whisper sorry in my next breath. Out of line, Kalli. She’s trying to help, so be nice.

“Hey, listen. Calm, first. That always works,” Aunty Nicole starts. I roll my eyes. “But honestly, don’t roll your eyes at me because I will know you’ve done it.”

How the hell did she—?

“Time is the biggest healer. That became a cliché for a reason. Think about one time you were so mad you couldn’t stand to do anything else but be angry. You are remembering a time, yeah? Now you’re not all too mad, though? Not in comparison to that very moment when your control went out the door and rage took over you.

“My point is, humans are defined by our emotions. Give us time, and we tend to assess a situation rationally. The worse the anger, the more time. Someone stole your eraser? Give yourself two days and you won’t remember it ever happened. Someone stole your boyfriend? Get drunk, whine to your bestie, date some douchebags, and then find a better boyfriend. After a few years, you’ll have to dig to remember all the little details.”

I smile to myself, forcing it to stay even after I just want to cry or punch something—or both. On my desk are still cut-outs and a stack of photographs and pens I used for Nate’s photo book. I look at these and remind myself that did some good. That our relationship is better than it was when he first heard the gossip about what I did at that party with Donovan.

Better is not right, though, and for the first time, I find myself longing for him. I have agonised over every moment of my betrayal, and how stupid I was to somehow believe we weren’t attached. We were, and are attached. Before, it was with hope and newfound obsession. Now it’s a link of pain and a world of suffering that I can’t take away.

“And if you do it right, things will turn out fine. I have lost so much with my sister that I don’t care anymore if she broke my heart in every way possible, as much as that one fight cost me. Deep down, I’ve loved her infinitely forever, and that’s what’ll come out of all this.”

“So then what you’re saying is you’ve been waiting for the right time to see Mary?”

Aunty Nicole groans close to the phone, eliciting a harsh breathy sound on my end. “You’re a sly girl, Kalli. Sly. Only reading what you want.”

“But I’m right.”

“I suppose you are.”

“We’re free, like, all this week and next. And the one after.”

There’s a space where I’m afraid she’ll bite back.

I’ve pushed too far.

My shoulders tense up, and it works through my body.

Until I feel her roll her eyes at me through the line. “Mm, I’ll see.”

I hang up feeling victorious, until I realise she probably feels the same, getting under my skin about my “guy” issue.





20




Even though staring won’t change what Nate’s just texted me, I won’t focus on anything other than his words. After a month of little talk except for run ins and with Scout between us, I had honestly believed we’d continue for the next month, finish the uni year, and after the few-month break of no excuses to see each other, we’d lose contact.

But then the text happened. That stupid head of mine chokes up again and I just blink, waiting to blink one of these times and have his words disappear:

Nate: Have a magazine interested in using one of my shots of you. Can I come over with release forms to sign?

I should know what the hell he wants me or him to release, or what I need to do, but my focus is on the part I instead comprehend very well.

Me semi-naked, Nate adoring me from behind the lens, him, that first time making me come undone at his will, that bond.