Better Off Alone (Adopted by Brendon and Sarah Urie)

97. Brendon

"I can't just change a meeting to suit your whims, Brendon," Scott said when I called him because texting was getting annoying.

"This isn't a 'whim', Scott. It's my daughter. I need to be here with her. For her. I messed up while we were recording the album. I wasn't here when she needed me. I need her to know that she is a priority. So here's what's going to happen. Either you move the meeting so I can take my daughter to her appointment or you keep the meeting booked when it is and know that I won't be there."

"Brendon," Scott said, sounding exasperated.

"Scott," I replied, a finality to my voice.

"Fine. I'll move the meeting. What time does Callie finish school?"

"Two thirty," I said. "She has an appointment at three until four and then we're home for dinner."

"What time does school start?"

"Eight fifteen," I responded.

"Okay. Can you make nine?"

"I can try, depending on traffic," I said.

"Okay. I'll text you."

"Thanks, Scott. I knew you'd come around."

He sounded frustrated. I found I actually didn't care. Technically, he worked for me. I mean, he works for the record label, but he's supposed to make my life easier. Not harder.

Sarah came back downstairs looking a little defeated.

"No luck getting her to come down?" I asked. She shook her head and sighed.

"How about Scott? Anything?"

"He's going to try to move it to the morning. Nine or so. He'll let me know once he's confirmed it."

Sarah nodded.

"Now, more pressing matters," I said. "How do we get Callie to listen and come have dinner?"

Sarah sighed.

"I don't know," she said. "She's being so stubborn."

"That she is," I said, agreeing with Sarah.

I thought for a second.

"How bad would it be if I went upstairs and made her come down?" I asked.

"Make her... how?" Sarah asked.

"Literally pick her up and carry her down here where we can talk to her."

"I can't imagine she'd be terribly happy about it," Sarah said. I knew she wasn't wrong, but I wasn't sure she was right either. Somehow we had to make Callie listen.

"I'm going to get her. I can't stand this. I can't stand her being mad at us and I can't stand her thinking we're divorcing or that we're going to get rid of her."

"It's your funeral," Sarah said.

I went upstairs, knocked on Callie's door and then went inside her room. She was still laying on her bed, her back to the door. I sat on her bed and tried to pull her over. She resisted at first but I persisted. She frowned at me.

"Hi," I said. "I'm giving you a choice. You can come downstairs or I'm going to pick you up and carry you downstairs. Mom and I want to talk with you."

"No," she said simply.

"One, you come downstairs or, two, I carry you. Those are the only choices."

"Three. No," Callie said, trying to turn over.

"I see," I said, then stood up, picked her up off her bed and tossed her over my shoulder. She was hitting my back with her fists and trying to kick. I held tight as she vocalized her displeasure.

It was slow going - I didn't want to drop her - but I got her downstairs and deposited her in a dining room chair. She tried to bolt, but I grabbed her and sat her back down.

"Leave me alone!" She signed angrily.

"No," I said. "We are going to figure this out. We're not giving up on you, Callie. You're our daughter and we want to make this right."

She wouldn't look at me. Sarah took her hand and sat down beside her.

"Callie. Please," Sarah said. "Sweetie."

Callie pulled her hand away and bolted anyway. She slammed her bedroom door after she ran upstairs.

I put my head down and sighed. This was not going well. We couldn't rebuild her trust in us if she wouldn't even listen.

"Well. That went about as well as I'd expected," Sarah said.

I wasn't in the mood for that. I shot her a look and then went out into my studio. I just needed some space.

After a little while, I went back into the house.

"Sorry, Babe," I said to Sarah.

"It's alright. I understand. This is really hard."

"What if we just give her what she wants?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.

"What if we just make it so she has to come to us?  Like, for a ride to school."

"That isn't what she wants, Brendon. She wants us to be her parents and not ignore her. She wants you to be around. She wants to know we aren't splitting up and that we aren't returning her to the Children's Home.  She wants to know she's okay. And she's scared she isn't."

"She's pushing us away, though. She hasn't eaten dinner in two days, she hasn't eaten much breakfast, either," I said. "And we tried to talk to her and, well, you were there."

Sarah sighed. Neither of us knew what to do. Parenting is hard. No one prepares you for your kid being mad at you. Or what to do when they're afraid you're going to dump them off somewhere.

I sat at the dining table and put my face in my hands. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to get through to Callie. Sure, I'd tried texting. She didn't even read the texts.

"Well, tomorrow morning, I'm going to make sure she asks for a ride to school."

We sat there for a few minutes, just thinking. Both of us in our own little worlds.  Sarah felt terrible about Callie, as I did. But I felt like maybe she was feeling it more since she'd had to take the bulk of caring for Callie when I'd been working on the album.  Instead of growing closer, Callie had pulled away. I had to find a way to make her realize she was home. I felt like that's all we'd been doing since day one. And we hadn't made it better for her.

But I was determined. Callie would know she's loved. That this is her home. Forever.