A Girl Named Callie

<Jasper> A Boy Who is Getting his Life Back

Chapter 44

<Jasper Coven>

"So, she actually came to see you?" Mel says back in the cell that night as I'm brushing my teeth,

"It surprised me too." I say as I wipe my mouth. "We haven't talked like this in years but it felt so natural, like we never lost touch."

I smile in spite of my bruises, the lopsided grin making my eyes gleam.

"She's still engaged, brother."

"And I'm happy for her." I turn to Mel. "I lost my chance with her a long time ago. I want her to be happy."

"Well, that's big of you."

"I'm just happy she came to me, Mel, she's done being put off by me. I feel like my life is finally being pieced back together."

"I've never heard you sound so hopeful." Mel chuckles. "I hope you get out of this place before it breaks your spirit."

"Me too," I nod as we climb into our respective beds, slipping under the rough sheets in the darkness of the jail, the corners of our cells flecked with moonlight.

I stare at the rays of moonlight, dust from the concrete suspended in the weak light. I think about the lines creasing Callie's forehead and the purple splotches painted under her brown eyes, her thick eyelashes threatening tears. Her lips were chapped and her mouth was drawn in a tight line, stitched shut to keep her anxiety inside. She was shaking when I held her hand. I could tell from the quiver in her voice that she lived on the verge every day and I ached to help her, to promise her that Andrew would come home, just so that she could sleep, could take a breath without crying.

I turn from the dusty ground and stare at the gray rock of the ceiling. I wonder if I ever made Callie's forehead crease. I push the twinge of jealousy out of my chest as I turn on my side. She loves Andrew the way I love her. She stays up at night thinking about him the way I wish she still thought about me. In my head I've already accepted that this is the way things are but my heart, my gut, the sparks of my nerve endings haven't caught up. I draw in a deep breath and try to imagine Callie and Andrew together, try to imagine the smile on her face as he wraps his arms around her. I try to imagine her laughing, happy. I close my eyes and let a smile pass briefly over my lips.

Dear God, I don't know what your plan is for Andrew. I don't know how his story ends but you do and I pray you will protect him. Callie has been through so much and she is fiercely in love with him. She wants to spend her life with him. If that is your plan for her and Andrew, please send her a sign, please send her peace and comfort. She is in pain, in fear, and I know that's the last thing you want for her. Please protect Andrew, bring him home safely, soon. Amen.

~~~~~

I'm entering my eighth month in prison. I've stopped thinking about heroin for the most part and I've entered the "making amends" phase of my recovery group. I keep my mouth shut on the yard and I've read almost all of the books in the prison library. Callie comes to visit me once a week. She still looks tired and stretched thin like a piece of fishing wire that is trying to hold up a cast-iron skillet. We talk around Andrew; laughing about what she watched on TV, telling her about the books I've read, hearing about her roommate situation. I do my best to keep her distracted but I can tell, every time she leaves, that she's going to go home and fret and it kills me that I can't fix that.

The guards lead me to the visitation room in silence. I am trying to think of who could be waiting for me. It is Wednesday and Callie has already visited me this week, so I shouldn't have a visitor until Callie next week. The guard leads me to a table in the corner where Isaac, Mr. Travers and my mom are seated. I knit my eyebrows together as I sit down, my gaze moving over each person in turn.