The Mercer School forums, existing for the purpose of online study and inter-student discussion, were usually dead at this time of year because finals were over. But now they were flooded with posts about me, the subject lines coded so they weren’t immediately deleted. Mercer kids, freshmen to seniors, used it to spread rumors that were as colorfully creative as they were gross and hurtful.
“She was a cam girl since before she came to Mercer. Someone was blackmailing her with old pictures and Callum went to pay them off but they beat the shit out of him. Sad as fuck he was gonna go to the olympics”
“So not worth it. Like who is she even? Where did she come from? She just waltzed into Mercer in the middle of sophomore year and we were all supposed to worship her because she was friends with Callum and Theo”
“Poor Cal his life sucks. We all knew since middle school that his mom had mental issues. No one just takes in some random teenage girl unless they’re a fucking basket case.”
“If she was crazy she probably went extra crazy after Lake HAD SEX with her husband. Before she was even legal. Heard it from a reliable source *cough TS cough*”
“Disgusting. But not a shocker.”
Caroline told me that as tempting as it was to indulge negative thoughts, I should find the courage not to and take a sabbatical from the Internet for awhile. “I’ll take a break from the computer with you,” she suggested brightly. “It’ll be a pact of solidarity.”
“You never even go on the computer.”
“Okay, so I’ll quit something I love. What do you suggest?”
Well, you’ve kind of quit on your son. “I don’t know.” I shrugged, acting bored since I was vaguely pissed at her. “Coffee?”
“Oh, no, darling. That wouldn’t bode well for either you or Callum. Try again.”
“Shopping.”
“Jesus, Lake. Don’t take it too far.”
I let myself laugh and we brainstormed till we landed on something stupid, like Splenda, at which point I took the soup I reheated for Callum and went to his room. I stopped at the door because I found it ajar even though I’d closed it tight when I left. And he was pretty much bed-ridden. Once I got inside, I saw him wincing with his blankets all messed up despite the fact that I’d tucked him perfectly into bed before.
“Callum! Why the heck did you – ” I wanted to ask in horror why he’d gotten up but I figured it out fast, based on another time this had happened. He’d opened the door to hear his mom’s voice. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was curious about what she was saying or if he just missed the sound of her talking and laughing, but the fact that he was willing to hobble in pain to the door made me hurt for him. But I understood it – all sides of it. Caroline was recently kicked out of her social circle and just discovered that her only son was going to be merely high school-educated. She was too angry to bring herself to be fun and sweet with him.
So with love for them both, I was stuck awkwardly in the middle, arguing diplomatically for one if the other started complaining. But much as I loved Caroline though, and never spoke a bad word about her, I silently boiled at the fact that she had to choose Callum’s most vulnerable time to be crueler to him than ever before.
So, despite the fact that it wasn’t my style, I tried to make up for it.
I started with tucking him nicely back into bed and being patient when he decided that he didn’t want the soup anymore. Under normal circumstances, I was quick to snap, even if I wasn’t totally serious, because that was just the nature of our relationship. But I made a resolution to stop, the same way I was going to quit the Internet for a little. Callum dipped in and out of shitty moods thanks to Caroline and the pain and the silent grappling with the fact that wrestling was over, but when he got short with me I stayed nice. I did to him what he did to me while he was high off his ass at the hospital – a time he apparently didn’t remember – and killed him with kindness. It wasn’t that hard because I found something weirdly pleasurable about showing him a different side of me. I liked letting myself be completely sweet to him and, of course, I kind of liked how visibly uncomfortable it made him.
The mornings that he didn’t answer my “How’d you sleep?” or “Want some breakfast?” and I could see dark thoughts already storming in his eyes, I knew I was in for a rough one. He’d spend those days testing my patience, telling me to get him this, get him that, cook him this, buy him that. Half of the time, he didn’t eat a bite of what I made. I’d breathe deep through my nose and tell myself not to get mad. I had no idea what was going on in that brain of his but it could be any number of things. He’d sent his best friend of ten years to the hospital, dealt with Caroline during my naked photo fiasco and been beaten unconscious by four strangers and a bat. The incident was likely set up by Theo, Callum wasn’t going to wrestle again for a long time and he was set to skip not just the Junior Olympics but college. In the grand scheme of things, the way he flicked his hand to reject the omelet I made him was probably small.
So I persisted with the kindness and in some strange way, it opened up my heart. It had always belonged to Callum but tending to his needs when he came home did something different to it. It made it feel fuller. I wanted to take care of him, to for once please someone else instead of gladly hogging all the joy and attention for myself.
I liked the loving superpowers I developed. I became in tune with all his needs. I could read what he wanted – medicine, food, a pillow fluff, the AC turned down – before he even realized it himself. The look on his face when he was trying to mask surprise or appreciation was always fun too. That was the thank you I never got in words and I didn’t mind. I knew that I’d always been the pampered princess of the house, even when I didn’t really want to be. So I loved finally knowing what it was like to be good at giving and providing comfort.
And I was happy that the first person I could discover that with was Callum.
He finally acknowledged it one random afternoon. I was sitting with him in bed watching a baseball game I didn’t understand when he put his hand on my knee. I stared at it for two seconds before looking at him. My voice was light and playful. “What’s up, buddy? Do you need something?”
He shook his solemn head. “No.”
“Then what’s up?”
He brows pinched for a second like he was trying to figure it out too. “I just wanted to touch you.”
My breath shortened. “Yeah?” I played it off. I did okay but my heart was suddenly flitting like hummingbird wings in my chest. Two seconds into the moment and I already knew that I didn’t recognize this Callum at all, despite the fact that he touched me all the time. We’d seen each other naked on too many occasions to count. Sometimes, we’d just be sitting on the couch watching a movie when he’d take my hand and cup it over his dick. He played with my tits pretty much constantly. But this was different. It wasn’t sexual, it was tender. Sweet. His eyes weren’t full of that lust that it sometimes clouded with when I wore a certain outfit or moved a certain way. He just gazed at me softly, with content.
“Yeah.” He took forever to answer my question with the same damned word. Then he looked down at his hand on me knee and tilted his head, moving his thumb back and forth. I rested my head against his for a bit and watched with him as he stroked my skin over my leggings.