I closed the door behind me, slipping out of my jacket and shoes. Dad came out of the kitchen just as I was hanging my coat up on the hook. “Did you just get in?”
“I went for a quick walk,” I told him, not wanting to admit I’d been talking to Cal.
“Oh, well. Dinner’s ready,” he said, a small smile gracing his lips. “Where’s your brother?”
“Still out…” I answered, watching the small smile slip from his face, disappointment settling in its place. He nodded, not saying anything else, and headed back into the kitchen.
Given that Cal had just received some life-altering news…I could understand why he wanted to stay downwind from Dad, but I recognized the disappointment and hurt. Dad wanted to fix things between them, but it was evident he had no idea how to go about it…and it was clear he was still taking personal offense to every perceived slight.
* * *
Dare
Calum’s flightlanded in Halifax a few days ago, but aside from a text message saying he’d call when he got settled, we hadn’t heard from him.
Evan and I had gone on the talk show yesterday and we were scheduled to go on the radio show early tomorrow morning. I’d already told Tai we would skip out on the movie premiere in Banff, since it was happening the night of Frank’s funeral—the day before our scheduled show in Edmonton. Killian already knew we couldn’t make it, and why.
As the hours trekked by, the dread in my gut grew as I worried about what kind of mental state my best friend was in. This was one of the reasons I’d argued so profusely with Tai over Cal going alone. His silence had always alarmed me more than his angry outbursts.
For the past nine years, Calum hadn’t had to fight his demons alone. Evan and I had been at his side to keep him on track; looking out for him, helping him fight the fight by letting him bleed his emotion into our music.
Now he was back where he’d started unravelling, and without him telling me what was up…I was assuming all the worst-case situations. That he and his father had already gotten into it, or that he’d decided to just stop off at a hotel somewhere and get shitfaced.
While Calum had avoided going home to Lunenburg with everything he had, I made the occasional trip out by myself to see my mom. Usually for a few days over the holidays, like Thanksgiving or Christmas. It wasn’t nearly enough, according to my mom, but I’d been back in Lunenburg a handful of times since leaving. It still felt like coming home to me.
But I hadn’t left on the same terms he had, so it was easy for me to go back. This was the first time Calum had set foot back in our hometown.
I was so worried I’d started checking the local news stations. They were already abuzz with community legend Frank Murphy’s death, but no mention of Calum had been made, so I could only assume he hadn’t done anything self-destructive yet.
It was probably only a matter of time though. Calum had come face-to-face with his father for the first time since their fallout. There was a lot of shit he had to say to that man, shit that had been brewing foryears.
Michael Jacobs hadn’t taken the news of our recording deal well. He’d been livid Cal was going to all but bail on his college plans.
We hadn’t seen it that way, of course. The signing bonus and the immediate tour had entrapped us. Cal had been so certain he’d be able to pay back his tuition with those royalties—and he had—but it was a risk. One Michael Jacobs hadn’t been thrilled to take at all, as he’d extended the mortgage on their house to afford to send Calum to the college he’d chosen.
Cal hadn’t known any of this until after we’d signed and after the fallout. His mother had called and tried to explain Michael’s outrage. She assured Calum it wasn’t his fault, but the stress of the financial situation they were now in had burdened Michael and clouded his judgment that night.
But Michael had never called Calum to explain it himself or apologize, so as far as Cal was concerned, it was a weak excuse, especially since he’d managed to pay back the tuition and now helped with Connor’s college expenses.
I could only imagine how strained that first meeting was, and not knowing was torture.
Unease was growing in the pit of my stomach. I kept talking myself out of trying to reach Connor, not wanting to upset her or make her worry needlessly if Calum was just taking his time calling. But I had no way of knowing if their reunion went well, or if it’d gone as I expected it likely would…terrible.
Calum could be stubborn and combative, but his old man was ten times worse. The two of them together for any length of time, especially during emotionally strenuous times, was a recipe for disaster. A death in the family and close forced proximity was the perfect recipe for a shitstorm.
For what felt like the hundredth time that day, I called Calum. It rang a few times before he picked up, the sound of the ocean’s surf exploding in my ear. Cal was at the beach.
“Cal? It’s Dare,” I said, hesitating. Whenever Cal feltreallytormented, he ended up by the water or about as close to it as he could get. One time, I’d found him drinking whiskey near a water fountain when we were in Nevada, because it was the closest thing to water in that landlocked city.
“I know,” he replied, his voice heavy and burdened.
“We haven’t heard from you in a couple of days—is everything okay, man?” I questioned, not liking at all how he sounded: like his entire world had flipped on its axis. He’d always been closer to his grandfather than he had his father, so I could only imagine the pain he was experiencing.
“Not really,” Cal chuckled, almost bitterly.
“I’m sorry. I still can’t believe he’s gone,” I said, disbelief and sorrow ladening my voice.
“It’s not that, well. It’s that, but it’s more. I fucked up, Dare.” Calum’s sigh seemed endless and my spine stiffened, preparing for more bad news.
