Where is the duct tape, fucker? Shut up.
“Nah, I’m pretty sure she’s done with me.” The skin on the back of neck tingled, like it got too much sun. It probably was burned.
“Callum, my dude. You’re not dense.” Lo eyed me with disappointment seeping out of her pores. Seeing her face lined with displeasure was somehow worse than my sisters being upset with me. “You two have some unfinished business. I suggest you figure out a way to deal with it. It’s not healthy, and you’re both hurting.”
And have the talk we’ve been avoiding for years? Oof. You can’t handle that, man.
Why do you think you’ve partied so much? Avoidance 101.
But like, you want to talk to her. You miss her. We all know it.
5
IVY
Ever since I had the accident, I had to be mindful of being on my leg. It wasn’t a weakness, but it was a reality. When I was in the hospital for weeks, Callum organized our class to write me notes. But instead of a normal third grader with colorful papers and markers and gel pens, Callum taught them all origami.
My shoebox of get-well notes were frogs, dogs, birds, dragons, and fish. I kept those still in a memory box somewhere, but Callum was kind even at eight years old. He gave me one mini crane the day we graduated that was with shiny gold paper. He wrote along the neckour time is nowand told me that the next chapter for us would be even better. He’d play football and chase his dream, and I’d escape our hometown and find myself where I wasn’t my mom and dad’s unathletic daughter. I could create a name for myself without their being attached to it, and I could be someone without the whole backstory of being injured. When you had a major injury like I did, everyone knew, and it was exhausting always having that as part of your story. I just wanted to be a badass AT without all the baggage. Just Ivy.
Despite our huge fight, I kept the small gold one. I twirled it in my palm, letting myself feel the hurt. I read once that hurt was just leftover love, and I hated that bullshit. I never had a relationship before because the pain of losing Callum was unbearable, and he was just my best friend. What if I was in love with someone?
Not sure I could survive it.
Seeing Callum had me feeling raw, something I hated because I’d already lived through pain and hopelessness. People assumed I was so grateful I didn’t die getting hit that day, and of course, I was, but I still had to mourn a life I planned. I lived every day like I wanted, but it was still difficult having physical and emotional scars. My parents did their best, but they didn’t know how to raise a child who couldn’t play sports. That was all they knew.
That was their love language, so take away the game part, and what was left? An empty void of forced emotions.
Removing off my glasses, I set them on my desk and rubbed the ridge of my nose. I couldn’t see shit without my glasses, but a small tension headache formed with all the emotions crashing into each other like football players. I was due at the stadium in an hour, Mondays the day where I had no classes and just spent eight hours working, but that meant seeing Callumagain.
After we had our fight, I went through the conversation in my head a million times of what I would say to him. I wanted to crush him, to make him feel the way I did when he abandoned me and said the words that he knew would hurt me the most.
But the urge to strike back dulled. Now…I wanted to move on, but how did one do that without closure? I could… reach out to him?
No.
I shook my head violently, hating the idea. I’d tried reaching out to him before, and it went unanswered. Not again. I was happy, doing something I loved, with a best friend for life.
I was good.
Better than good. Great, maybe.
Yeah.Maybe if I say it enough it’ll be true.
Eyeing my watch, I stood up and winced at my left leg. It fell asleep after sitting for so long, and I hopped toward the door. Esme and Enrique sat on the couch, discussing loudly the pros and cons of intermittent fasting.
They could argue about NASCAR, aliens, or diets. They were honestly weirdos, and I adored them.
“Whose side are you on, Ivy? This is important. You work with athletes. Is it beneficial?” Enrique asked, his eyes hopeful.
“To lose weight, yes. To build muscle mass, no. Depends on what your goal is.” I stretched my right arm a few times, trying to get rid of the stiffness. It happened pretty often when I was super active or slept on it wrong. I winced as I rotated it again, a flicker of worry taking root.
One of Callum’s comments that summer had been that the only reason I wanted to be a trainer was to be on a team, which would never happen.
You’re never gonna be an athlete, so stop trying to live through me. Find your own thing. Stop thinking you can do everything.
I heard that anger in his voice every time I hurt. I used it to push me harder.
“Oi, you okay, Ivy?” Enrique stood, frowning. “Why did you wince?”
