It's Not My Thing (Final): Part One

September 2014     

            I look down at my phone when I hear it ringing to the same ringtone I have had on it since I first got my iPhone, Outside The Lines, by Hawk Nelson. It was a tune that was my favorite song at one point; so I set it as my ringtone. Over time, I forget about the song until I heard my phone ring, I would start singing along with the song until I answer my phone, and it easily becomes my favorite song once again for the time in between my hello, and the caller’s response. I see that Daniel, one of my best friends from the club gymnastics team, is calling me, and I answer with a chipper, “hello.”

            “Hey Callie, I’m here. I know I’m a little early because I thought that the team poster making started at five not six, is that okay? Are you even at the apartment right now?” I stand up from my computer, and walk out of my room, which is still being put together. We only moved in three days ago, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s good to be back.

            “Yeah, that’s fine. Can you find our apartment? Or do you want me to-“

            “Can you stand outside? Cause it says I keep passing it, but I still don’t see the driveway.” I run out of our new apartment, down the stairs and stand in front of our white building and look for Daniel’s big black SUV. I wave him down, and tell him to pull into the creepy side ally, and just park in the back. “You want to hop in really quick?” I nod. As he pulls into the driveway he starts, “so how was your summer?” There is anticipation in his voice. We have only communicated once or twice in our months apart, which I found a little weird, but I don’t blame him, once we left Eastern we had separate lives. Nothing was the same back home.

            We became friends last year on the first day of gymnastics practice, the whole club sat in a circle as we introduced ourselves. I sat next to Zara, whom I have apparently been competing against since fifth grade, and Daniel, whom I have never seen before in my life. While we were warming up our tumbling passes on floor, we would have bits of conversation, talking about our lives, where we came from, what our majors were, the typical stuff. But it was enough to know that these two might just be the keepers, and the club might just be my next home. That night we left practice after a long workout and decided to get dinner together, we exchanged information, and every practice after that we had dinner together afterwards. These two were fast and good friends. They were not the ones that you meet when you first on move in day and promise to hang out with them every day until that unspoken moment when everybody suddenly makes new friends and all at once the circle is broken. No, these were the “new friends” the ones who would actually stick around, go with you to parties, hang out with you on the weekends, study for finals with you, even when you are coughing and sneezing on them, and they would be the reason that when you get to the end of the year, you would look back you say, “yep, I have gotten weirder.”

            I realize that I don’t even know where to start to answer Daniel’s question about my summer. It was eventful to say the least, but I feel like my summer was just like going to a gymnastics meet with the club. You prepare yourself to leave with the team by packing. You pack your leotard, warm ups, lucky sexy socks, school supplies because you think that you will be thinking about how much homework you have. However, once all the cars are together, and you see your team dressed in human cloths, with darker skin than usual, you are all team all the time. You laugh together, talk together, sing together, dance together, compete together, and cheer together. It is a different world where screaming is allowed, where clapping cannot be loud enough, and where jumping up and down to show excitement is not a childish act. It is where getting high is a good thing, a recommended thing, because you might actually land on your feet then. Or there is the other high, the liquid high, the one that stops you from feeling your body aching and begging you to stop! That is how my summer was, spent at church, with adrenaline rushes of different kinds, screaming, and jumping up and down, clapping loudly, with big wide spread smiles across my face as something I was not expecting to happen actually happened, and when that occurred I had the urge to tell everyone! It seemed as though when there was a dull moment over the summer, something new and exciting would happen for me, but it all quickly came to an end, and now only parts of it seem to matter.

            My summer was a Jesus high as we call it, and it was just like going to a meet. A completely different world, and when you come back from the summer, from church, from the Jesus high, from the meet, from the adrenaline rush, there is no way to describe those feelings to an outsider other than to say, “it was incredible.”

            They just wouldn’t get it.

            I already know what Daniel is going to say regarding my summer, “Cal, that’s awesome, but the whole God thing… it’s not my thing. I mean, if God really did all of that, then great, and I will support you, but I don’t know what you want me to say.” He looks at me with his big brown eyes as we are putting my drawer set together in my room.

            I hand him a small wrench as he does his thing, and I watch him, “I wasn’t looking for a specific response really.” I shrug my shoulders, “maybe just that I am not crazy.” I raise my eyebrows and pause, “the way I see it… God worked in my life this summer. Some people just think it was just acts of good deeds by strangers at the right times, but I know what prayers I prayed, and I know what happened. At least I think I do, I’m still kinda fuzzy on a couple of relationships that formed near the end and I’m not sure exactly what they were… but that’s besides the point.”

            “What do you mean you weren’t exactly sure what they were?”

            “I mean, the one person I have in mind, we officially had met in June. However, after we met, it seemed like I was around him at least once or twice every week, and… I don’t know… You know me, I don’t trust people easily, but I felt like I could talk to him, or trust him with anything. I’m just not sure if he felt the same way about our relationship though.”

            He stops what he is doing and looks up, “was it romantic?” A part of me questions why he is asking, but I brush it off. If something were between Daniel and I, we would have already tried, and watched it fail.

            I try to answer with honesty, this summer is not easy to explain and just for the sake of the school year I want to set it aside. I still have many questions; many that I know won’t be answered for a long time. “I mean… I did end up developing feelings for him, but the relationship was clearly just a friendship, and I think that is all I wanted out of him. At least this summer.”       

            “Do you eventually want a relationship with him?”  He hands the wrench over to me, and I try to mimic his previous actions.

            I shrug “I guess eventually, if it comes down to it, I wouldn’t mind. I will just have to see where life takes the two of us. Right now it doesn’t seem like a possibility in the near future.” I try not to look at Daniel as I head into my next point; “one thing I know for sure is that I reset my standards for dating…”

            “And?”

            “There are now fifty-nine of them…” I say on a breath out and look at the drawer stand, something doesn’t look right. “This is on backwards,” I say and continue, “and he is the only guy I have ever met who has proven to meet over thirty of them. Each week he unknowingly showed me an example of fitting a different standard.”

            He stops for a second, looks at the drawers that we are now taking apart, “no this is on right?” I pick up a blue drawer and place it against the metal stand. “Oh, you’re right.” I nod, “but fifty-nine!? Don’t you think that’s a bit much? I mean it’s just dating.”

            “Don’t you think my last relationship kind of sucked?” I think of the many nights in the gym when I ran out crying while Daniel and Zara came chasing after me. I start to explain the standards as if they need a defense, but I think if someone were to read them, they could stand-alone. “They aren’t just random though,” I say tightening the bolt. “They are broken down into three sections. First is their relationship with God, how they act, their character, integrity, leadership, stuff like that. The second is their relationship with me, they are my best friend, make me laugh; will cook with me, be a part of my family even though my family is messed up. The final one is their relationship with God and me, such as leading me, encouraging us to pray for each other and so on. So it’s not random standards like they have to be six foot tall with black hair and brown eyes and a gymnast.” He gives a flattered look, as I describe him.

            “Well that’s good, I think you need a guy like that, someone who believes the same things as you. At least you have had some sort of romantic interest though,”

            “You didn’t have any summer romances?” I ask in a sarcastically surprised voice. He just laughs and shakes his head. Talking about relationships has always been an interesting concept between the two of us. Last year when he met me, I was in a relationship, and he was single. He got to watch that relationship fall apart, and know all the reasons why it wasn’t working. Religion mostly, the guy wanted me to convert and I said no, so we both said goodbye. Since then there has been an awkward chemistry between Daniel and I that has always been there, but was enhanced after the break up. We had never addressed it because I was in a relationship, and now we don’t address it for the same reasons my last relationship ended.

            “So where is Zara?”

            “She is at work all weekend. She is actually going home every weekend this month to finish up work.” Daniel nods, and I start to think about what I have expected out of sophomore year already. I have expected that we are going to have great parties at the apartment, ones with the team where we act like idiots, and get it all on video. We are going to have wipe outs at gymnastics practice that leave scars, deep purple and blue bruises, and somehow one of us will have managed to get it on video as well. Whoever fell, will always be remembered by that one, fall, or the next five falls to follow.

             Zara and I decorate the apartment with a massive picture of the two of us hanging in our dining room. We buy a chalkboard and fix it up, and write a nice welcoming note on the board. I tell her about my summer to the best of my ability, and she tells me stories of things that have happened between her and her boyfriend, Tyler. They have been together for four years, and they still don’t trust each other, that is about the extent of their relationship.

            We enter the gym, and mine and Zara’s conversation about her failing relationship with Tyler immediately ends as it always does when we walk to practice. As soon as I enter the doorway, I am immediately relieved of all the stress that school has started to pile on me. For some reason when it comes to being a gymnast, the combined smell of chalk, sweat, and feet are comforting. The humid gym is another comforting feeling probably because the season is getting ready to start and that is when you know it is go time. Once there is a chill in the gym then the pressure is on to start focusing on routines and less on the skills that need to be put into the routines. I set down my bag, plug my phone into the stereo that is out, but not playing, and set it on a mix playlist. I strip from my jeans down to my blue leotard, throw on a pair of black shorts, I say hi to Will who is doing some engineering project for work on his computer, and Whitney, who is our president and opened the gym for us today. After my hellos, I start making my laps and Zara throws her curly, frizzed blonde hair up in a messy bun.

            Daniel walks in carrying his red Milford gym bag and wearing khakis and a V-neck shirt as usual.  “Hey!” I yell to him in passing, “are you coming over tonight after practice for food?” I ask as I pass him again.

            “I think I can. I mean I have an hour drive home afterwards so I cannot stay too long, but I can at least hang out for a little bit.” He says with his voice varying in pitch depending on where I am at on the floor.

            I stop next to him, and I am breathing heavily, “awesome.”

            “What are you going to work on today?” Zara asks as she starts her arm circles to stretch out her shoulders.

            “My straddle cuts,” I let out a groan and sneak a peek at my heels, which are bruised, and scraped up. I know at this point if I hit them just right, the scabs will open and bleed.

            “What happened to your straddle cut?” Daniel asks out of concern.

            “See, this is what you get for coming to practice only on Wednesdays. I lost it, no muscle memory, no strength, no flexibility. I am starting from scratch, and before you ask, it took me four months to get it the first time. I am scared to see how long it is going to take me to get it back.”

            Daniel nods, “well I can help you by telling you what you are or are not doing.” I feel like there is a catch to this deal, so I wait and stare. “I’m also going to try to beat you to it.”

            “And you probably will,” I let out a laugh and start stretching. I stare at the bar because I know it is going to hurt me today and over the course of the next few weeks. It has already started leaving its mark on me, and we are only a couple weeks in. I can’t wait to see the kind of scars I get from this season. Others trail in while we stretch, Kyla, another sophomore comes in, still in her ice skating outfit with her hair in a high bun, and Shawn, our final sophomore comes in an hour late. He had just gotten off of work.

            I take a deep breath and Daniel grabs my hands and stares into my eyes, “you’ve got this. Put your legs through your arms and pull down on the bar. Once your butt is at the bar, let go, straddle and reach for the bar. Your hands will catch it again.” I nod at his directions, something about those brown eyes are so sincere that you want to listen to him, you want to hang onto every word that comes out of his mouth, you want to believe him. He definitely cares for me as a person, and he cares for me as a gymnast, I know this because of the effort he is putting into helping me get this skill back.I stand on a pile of mats, because I have yet to actually catch one and it would hurt to land on a wooden springboard especially since, I land on my butt every time. I have to keep going, I have to keep trying though, a release move is a requirement for bars. I stand with my left leg in front, toe pointed, in fuzzy socks that are taped around my Achilles tendons to keep them from falling down. I have already cut open the scabs and started bleeding; the socks will help with the scrapes, not the bruises. My right leg is straight and holding me up, my arms are stretched out in front of me with my hands white as dusty chalk falls from them. I take a minute to make some nail marks in the chalk on my leather grips to add some friction, and then I give my hands a good shake. I pretend I am stacking cups because that is what my high school coach said to finally get my hands in the motion to swing in a small circle and catch the bar. That is one strange thing about gymnastics. You could tell a girl multiple times, “you have to open up your shoulders when you are under the bar in order to get to handstand out of the free hip.” And I am sure you have no idea what I just said, but go with it because although the gymnast understands, it’s not clicking for her either. A couple of practices later the same coach will say, “shoot your feet up to the ceiling and rotate your hands to the top of the bar.” Suddenly the result is like getting taking a sharp right when tubing, the result is quick, shocking, and effective.

            I swing under the bar, extend my legs in front, and quickly pull my feet up to the bar and stick my legs between my arms. I use my shoulder muscles to push myself up in the air to the point where my butt is at about the same height as the bar and I let go. My legs straddle, my heels feel electricity slide up my legs in a sharp and painful sting as I reach my hands forward, but I am not close enough to catch it, my body collides back with the cheese mat, and I am sitting straight up staring at the bar and the chalky mess in front of me. I look at my fuzzy socks and the tape around them, and I am curious as to how bad my heels are bruised this is about the tenth time I have hit them today.

            “I think I am done for today, at least on bars. Now I get to go scare myself on floor with my double salto pass.”

            “Good luck, don’t pee.” Zara says to me as she continues to try a couple of skills on bars before she gives up as well.

            I laugh, “I’ll try not to, no guarantee’s.” I always call peeing during a tumbling pass “the gymnast reflex,” it just happens to come out, and sometimes no matter how many times you push every drop out when you are on the toilet, a little bit still comes out when you punch on the floor or land. Daniel follows me to floor, mostly because he hasn’t been doing much all practice, and now that he has someone to tumble with, he will get to work. “When’s the last time you successfully did your double salto pass?”

            “Nationals in April.” I sigh, “I don’t know what is so difficult about it. It is literally, front tuck, punch front tuck. It’s so simple, and yet I am terrified of it right now.”

            He puts his hand on my shoulder, “you’ll get it back.” He says with a smile, and takes a turn in the corner. He only did that to cut in front of me.

            I cook everyone spaghetti and garlic bread as we sit at the kitchen table laughing at each other’s expense. I pour Daniel and I some grape juice and I set a can of beer on the table for Zara, at her request. Apparently it is my turn on the chopping block, “after a year of being her friend, I still have failed at convincing her to wear tampons, and thongs!”

            “Hey now!” I yell from the kitchen, and peek my head around the corner, “it hurts!” I stir the meat, and peek my head around the corner again, “the tampons, not the thongs. I just don’t own many thongs, somehow I missed the ‘pretty underwear’ stage’ growing up. All my friends did actually.”

            “It’s because you were all sheltered!” Zara yells, “Callie, I’m gonna buy you a sex toy so you can just shove it up there, and fix whatever problem you have.” At this Daniel is casually watching the argument unfold, and I am honestly annoyed. She has tried for a year, and she claims that before she had sex tampons didn’t hurt her either. Believe me, if I could comfortably wear them, I would. “You know what, Daniel, Callie, go into Callie’s room, lose your virginity to each other and that will fix your lack of sex problem,” as she points to Daniel, “and your tampon problem.” Daniel and I wrinkle our eyebrows at each other and shake our heads. Umm, no.

            “Zara, you know I am waiting for marriage, that isn’t going to happen.”

            “Then fing-“

            “Zara, stop.” Daniel stays putting his hand up, he can see my face from his side of the table and knows that I am frustrated with Zara already. “So, any ideas for floor music yet?” Daniel asks, changing the subject, and I run to my room to pull out my laptop as we start our search. When dinner is finally done, we are still looking up music for our floor routine, taking turns listening to each idea, giving it a thumbs up or a thumbs down.

            Daniel and I lean in together to look at some of the titles, and Zara snaps a picture of us, “awe, aren’t you two cute!? Why have we never thought of getting the two of you together?” I look at the table in front of Zara and I see that her second beer is almost gone.

            “I think it’s time for me to go,” Daniel says raising his eyebrows at Zara.

            “Yeah, me too. Want me to walk you out?” He nods and I follow him out the door after he says goodbye to Zara. He parked on the far end of our driveway, so hopefully that will give us some privacy. 

            I start, but Daniel cuts me off once we are out of earshot of our dining room window, “is Zara okay?” I shake my head and tell him about Tyler, a lot of sketchy things have not been adding up. “Well, at least if she is drinking, she isn’t pulling you into it.” I know my face makes a funny expression because he doesn’t take long to ask, “or is she?”

            “She’s been offering me drinks. I turn them down, but she tells me straight up that she is going to find an alcoholic beverage that I like.”

            Daniel looks at me and pulls me into a hug, “you know she won’t.” He releases, “you know why? Because you and I, we grew up hating the taste, the smell and the terrifying results of it. We hate alcohol for larger reasons than we could ever love it.” I picture my father, standing on the wooden basement stairs, yelling at my sister and I as we are trying to sleep. I also picture Daniel’s father, although I have never met him, I picture him to be tall with black hair, like Daniel, with broad shoulders and clean-shaven. In my mind he is drinking a nice bottle of wine, but something pisses him off and he sends it flying at a younger version of the boy in front of me dodges it. I know he is right, alcohol is like the controversy of fireworks on the Fourth of July, between humans and dogs. Humans love it for the same reasons dogs hate it, the loud explosions and the bright flashing lights, and Zara loves alcohol for the same reasons we hate it, it’s special effects. 

            “On the other hand, what did you think about Zara’s comment, about getting us together? She has brought it up before to me, the idea of you and I.”

            Daniel thinks for a moment, as I lean against his car, on a side that Zara could not see from out window. “Callie, I don’t think it would ever work out. We would make each other miserable. We both want different things, and I can never live up to what you want out of a boyfriend, fiancé or husband. Think about your standards, I would only fit the ‘best friend’ section of them.”

            He is right once again; he has always known what I want better than I have, “It’s not because I don’t wear tampons or thongs?” I raise my eyebrows and he just laughs and I laugh with him. At least with Zara not around we can joke about it.

            “No, and don’t let her change your mind about that either. If it hurts to wear a tampon, then don’t wear one. Just do you. If you want to like that guy from the summer, then like him, if you want to get your double salto back, then work for it. If you don’t want to drink then don’t drink. Don’t let her influence you, she is a very opinionated person and you have to remember that.” I nod, and look at the ground. He lifts my chin up, “don’t forget who you are Callie, we just got you back after that terrible break up.” I smile and he wraps his warm, and strong arms around me again. For the first time I notice that he is tall enough that my head just fits in the little crevice between his sternocleidomastoid and clavicle. I also notice that he smells like the morning glories that used to grow in the back of my grandmothers yard right around her man-made pond. They would cover the wooden crouched fence with blues, purples and pinks. I think that is why those three colors were my favorite growing up, especially after we lost her due to liver failure.

            I realize that we are hugging for too long and I let go, “have a safe drive home.” I smile up at him and he smiles right back down, and he gives me a kiss on the forehead. This is something new, but it feels right, and natural.

            I wave goodbye and start to walk away when I hear my name, “Callie?” I turn around and he is pointing at me, “do your thing, not hers.” I nod, and reach for my keys to let myself back in the building. Once I pass the dumpster, I look up to our dining room window and see Zara standing at it, waiting for me to return.

October 2014

            Will, a teammate who graduated last year, but has stuck around has been getting really close with me over the last couple of weeks. I find that I like to come over to his apartment, which is right out our back door, and to the left, and watch his dog, Dozer, with him and play cards. Most of the time Will just makes me dinner and we talk about life, I tell him about Zara trying to force drinking on me, I also tell him something that I have brought up with Zara, but I am wondering if I should have even told her. I stab at my steak that he made me as I tell him my concerns.

            “May I ask what it is about?” he raises his thick, recently waxed eyebrows, and I finally confess to someone other than Zara that I am developing feelings for Daniel. I can’t completely explain to Zara why I don’t see him often yet the feelings are growing because it is her fault really. Every time she tries to push another drink on me, or I get frustrated with her over opinionated attitude, I text Daniel and he calms me down. Daniel and I have started to take turns at calming each other down. I make him feel better when his Dad is being and asshole and he makes me feel better when my roommate and best friend is being a bitch.

            “Sorry for my language,” I tell him. I know Will is not accustomed to me swearing, but on the rare occasion that it does happen, people are shocked when they hear it come from me.

            “You know, I don’t think that you have anything to worry about. Zara is a good friend, and she knows that you take your time when it comes to dealing with different feelings and being straightforward with them. I am sure that she will be patient enough to wait for you to tell Daniel yourself.” I nod I suppose he is right.

            My phone rings to the sound of Outside The Lines, and I see that it is Zara calling me. I give Will a look and press ignore. I’m not going to deal with her right now, but as I swipe and the caller i.d. exits the screen, I see messages from Zara on my screen right before it goes black. My heart starts pounding. I unlock the phone and read the message.

            “Hey Daniel, I know that you and I are not as close as you and Callie, I’m not sure why that is anymore, but I wanted to talk to you about Callie. I think she is starting to like you; she talks about you as if you are the best thing in the world. I know you two don’t see eye to eye on some things, but I think it would be best if the two of you at least tried at a relationship. I was hoping that we could speed up this process if you like her too, and get you two together because you guys would make an adorable couple. Also, can we keep this between us, Callie doesn’t know about it.” I finish reading out loud and look up to Will. His angular face, dumbfounded at what I just read. I immediately call her back, furious, “did you send that to Daniel!?” I ask, and she tells me that she has not, but she is about to. “Hold off on doing that!” I say and hang up the phone, “I have to go,” I say to Will grabbing my jacket, it has started to get chilly out.

            I walk through the apartment door and it slams, maybe on purpose, maybe on accident, I am not sure. “Are you kidding me?” Is the first thing I say to Zara as she is sitting at the table with her soup in front of her.

            “I haven’t sent it yet!” She yells back,

            “But you plan on doing so?”

            “I guess yes, if I have your permission now you were never supposed to read that message.” I take a moment to think and tell her to go ahead and send it. If I told her that she couldn’t, she would still do it, just behind my back. This way, at least she is open with me about it.

            “I’m going back to Will’s apartment.” I lie and head off to my car, I close the door quietly, hoping she doesn’t know that I lied about Will’s and I call my Mom crying. This was not the friendship that we had last year.

            It’s the night of the Halloween party, and I am super woman and Daniel is an Olympic gymnast, medal, tape and all. I stick by Daniel all night because although it is my own apartment, and I could just go off to my room, I want to enjoy my night. I have convinced Zara that I am okay with what she did, but that it wasn’t cool of her and it was a betrayal of trust. She didn’t see it that way; she thought she was just trying to help me out. When did our relationship ever get this complicated? Shawn, who is also Super Man, walks around sneakily trying to lick people’s elbows, and he makes fun of Whitney for wearing floppy socks all the time. Kyla is bat woman and hangs out with Shawn, Daniel and I most of the night. The sophomores, minus Zara have started to become a pretty reliable squad.

            As teammates are starting to leave, we gather around the living room with the people we have left and we start a card game. I don’t hear what the name of it is, but each card represents something else. We go around in a circle, and on the second time around Zara draws a card that means that you have to say something bad about one person in the room, she looks at me, with her beer in her hand (who knows what number that is) and says, “you’re a terrible roommate Callie!” The whole team simultaneously looks at me with their mouths dropped, as she continues and slurs her words, “you never do your dishes right after you eat. You never clean the bathroom, your room is always a mess, I am always cleaning up after you, and when is the last time you took out the trash?” I am on the edge of tears as the team stares at me, mouths still open. I stand up, and excuse myself as my voice cracks through suppressed tears and Whitney, Will and Daniel follow me out of the apartment.

November 2014

            I still have not told Zara how I felt about the situation that happened with Daniel, and as far as I know, she doesn’t remember calling me out in front of the whole team. However, Will, Daniel and Whitney all think that I just need to sit down and talk with Zara about everything, the drinking, the calling me out, the betraying of my trust. So I have made a plan to do so today.  

            “Can we talk?” I ask, sitting next to Zara on a mat at practice, “So...” I let out a deep breath and try to push this all out, I am bad with emotions, “I know I told you that you could send the message, but I was lying.” I pause, “the only reason I told you that I was okay with it was because I knew that you would send it anyway whether I told you that you could or not. It hurt, knowing that I couldn’t trust you in that moment, knowing that as soon as you sent Daniel the message, I had to go call him and tell him what was going on. After I got done crying to my mom.” I tell her about being drunk and calling me out in front of the whole team, I list all the ways that she has already hurt me this year, and we are only on month three. She apologizes and mentions that the drinking might just be a reaction to her still failing relationship.

            We have been talking about her relationship every day on the way to and from practice. It has turned into a master chess game, and our lives, relationships, and feelings are the separate game pieces. We are starting to think that our relationships are the king, where every move that our opponents (although they change every day) make is meant to break apart any good relationships we have. I tell her that it is okay, “I just want to trust you again, and I want our friendship to be okay, and not constantly strained on what the other is doing. I love talking with you on the way to practice, but sometimes I feel like I cannot talk to you about certain things because I just don’t trust you.”

            “Well I am sorry that all of this has happened, I know we are dealing with our own separate lives sometimes, and I just want what is best for you. I want you to be happy.”

            “I am happy, as long as I can trust my best friend to not to continue to hurt me.” She nods and we hug it out. Thank God, because this is getting old. I want our old friendship back. The one that did handstands with each other back-to-back in Chattanooga Tennessee, and then we fell on top of each other. I want the friendship that came knocking on my door minutes after I told her that my relationship was over. That was the friendship I missed, that was the friendship we had, and I am not sure what this friendship is now. This was a good talk, I tell myself as I grip up, and chalk up for bars. I have finally started catching my straddle cut, only after Daniel started catching it consistently… for three weeks. It took my body a long time to figure out how to stay close to the bar. Now I get to work on twisting out of my dismount. Yay. On the plus side, I have chosen floor music and my routine is almost done being put together, and I am no longer scared of my double salto pass. Gymnastics seems to be looking up, and now it seems that my friendship with Zara is as well.

            The following weekend Zara comes back to the apartment early, like early Sunday morning, and I am confused. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I ask, as I am ready to leave for church.

            “Tyler and I… we broke up. It’s over Cal, it’s really over.” I drop my bible and notebook and give her a hug. She cries into my shoulder, and I invite her to church with me. She doesn’t sing, she doesn’t move, she just sits in the cushioned pew and stares.

            On the way back to the apartment I look at her, “I know what you need,” I say with a grin. She gives me a weird look, and I just smile, “another party.” I pause and think, what is a good theme? “A glow party?” I raise my eyebrows and she gives me a half smile. I am taking that as a yes. The idea of the party was brilliant to get Zara’s mind off of Tyler, but unfortunately, it was not good for her drinking habits, which have now gotten worse since the break up. I see Will taking care of her most of the night, and I start to wonder if he has a thing for Zara. Will eventually leads her to bed, and tucks her in, as I clean up the apartment and Daniel helps me put away our handmade beer pong table with a head sized “E” in the middle with little Swoop’s (our mascot) all over. Will and Daniel both give me a hug and say goodbye, as I do the last of the cleaning up. From down below I hear the door slam and I notice that they are talking. Curiously I wonder what they are talking about, probably paintball, or gymnastics…

            “Yeah, I was with her when Zara accidently sent the message to her. What did you respond to that anyway?”

            “Well Callie called me shortly after Zara sent it and explained the situation. I told her that we could never be together though.”

            “Why?” Will asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

            “Because of religion. I’m never going to be that good Christian guy that she wants, and we both know that.”

            “But how do you feel about her I guess is the real question.”

            Daniel laughs and looks at the ground, “the thing about Callie is that you know when she is happy. Her face is just so full of life, and when she laughs she throws her head back, and her eyes are like watching a fire flicker at night. That smile and that laugh is contagious, and when she writes stories about us, she may call you out on some things, but if she really likes you, she will point out some of the best parts of you. She talks in her stories about how I respect her too much to consider dating her because religion, it’s not my thing.” He sighs, “Will, if I could I would, but I can’t.”

            “Because you respect her or because you love her?”

            “I think a little bit of both…” Daniel looks disappointed, but I cannot get a full facial expression from my window. “But hey, I have to go. I have to work in the morning. Nice talking to you Will!”

            “Yeah, you too!” They both turn around and go their opposite ways, and then Will turns back around, “hey, one more question. Do you know if Zara is single? I thought I heard her yell something during the party!” My eyes widen, and for some reason I am jealous. In fact I am jealous and furious, so much that I am going to wait to clean until the morning when Zara’s OCD will finally kick in and she will start cleaning with a nice heavy hang over.

December 2014

            Will ended up talking to me about Zara late one night in my room while I was studying for biology, and later he asked her out on a date. Now they are together, from one guy to the next, no big deal. This puts a damper on my relationship with Will. Mostly because I don’t get free salad, steak, water and cards in exchange for a hair cut. On top of that, winter has finally decided to arrive, but forgot to bring the snow. The wind bites at every crack in your clothing, or at every layer that you are missing. This makes the walks to the gym brutal, but the warmth from the leotards help. You know what is also brutal? Being stuck on the side of the road, waiting for AAA because your tire has blown.

            Zara talks me through everything that I am supposed to do, and even helps me plan to get it fixed, but I just shake my head in disbelief, this would happen. We wait for the young man to put my spare tire on and I just think about how this year has gone so far. I have given in, twice, to Zara harassing me about alcohol, and only once have I found it enjoyable. She has hurt me, I have watched her go from one guy to the next, my heels are eternally bruised from gymnastics, and I have two fresh rips on my hands. I slide my fingers over the rips as I feel the missing chunks of skin from my palms on my fingertips. It stings a little bit, but the faster they dry out, the less painful they will be.

            A couple weeks later, I open the door for the Ugly Sweater party and people place their white elephant gifts under the tree in the corner by the big window that overlooks the parking lot. I find myself talking to Daniel in a corner of the room, and Whitney comes by pushing me into Daniel who falls backwards against the wall and our faces are inches from each other. “Much closer and we might have kissed,” Daniel jokes and I go along with his joke. Would us kissing be such a bad thing? I mean; he does love me like that right? That’s what I heard him say after the glow party, is it not? I push the feelings aside.

            “Yeah, Daniel, lets not kiss.” I laugh, and I continue to tell him about my blown tire, and all of the things that have just been adding up to this semester of school being a total disaster. We go into our doorway where nobody can see us talking, so that we can get some privacy. “I think I’m also going to drop apparel merchandising, and pick up a small minor as well.”

            “In what?”

            “Do it now! Neither of them are out here!” I hear Shawn yell from the living room, and for a second I wonder what is going on, but it’s probably some drunknastics taking place around the corner in the living room.

            “Graphic communications,” I reply and bob my head up and down, “but that would mean I would have to drop all of my classes next semester that are not Creative Writing and register for new ones. It’s very last minute.” I hear Zara scream, and it sounds like it is coming from the bathroom.

            “Fuuuuck! Will! Will!” We hear Will cackling in the corner where our Christmas tree is supposed to be, and I see Zara charging for him with a yellow minion hat on her head. I can’t help but feel that I can’t take her seriously with that hat on.

            “Wait, where is the Christmas tree?” Daniel asks, and I lead him out of the hallway. I look in my room where there are team members cheating at spoons, I look in Zara’s room, no tree. “Oh no,” Daniel says looking at me and I follow him into the bathroom. No tree… until he flings the shower curtain open and there sits our Christmas tree.

            “You know, if it didn’t effect our hygiene so much, I would keep it here.” Daniel and I look at each other and laugh as Will and Shawn come to take the tree back to its home in the corner.

            Christmas break comes, and I head home. Somehow I am still shocked every time that I walk through the door by the smell of my parent’s house. I walk through the sliding door, which is the back of the kitchen. I look around and I just shut down, nothing has changed, just more of whatever was there when I left. I look at the stove, which has food sitting in pots that was probably cooked about a week ago. The little flies congregate around the food, as I look in to see the mold growing right before my eyes. I remind myself that I cannot take my shoes off while I am in the house. Finally the dog barks and comes to greet me by jumping onto me and giving me a hug.

            Shortly after Christmas, I find myself looking for my birth certificate so that I can get my passport. Zara and I are going to Italy together to study abroad, and I have never left the country, so finding my birth certificate is needed. I bring this up with my mother, and when she doesn’t show much interest in helping me, I tell her that when I find it, I am keeping it for myself.

            “No you are not.”

            “Yes, I am. Clearly, you can’t keep track of the important things that I need!”

            “So you are calling me irresponsible? Can we talk about the fact that you have been partying all year!? Lets look at that biology grade shall we?”

            “Mom, it has been three parties! Three! All of them are with the team; all of them are at my apartment! I also wake up the next morning to get ready for work at eight a.m. so don’t you dare call me irresponsible. My biology grade is because no matter how much I studied the material, I still didn’t understand it!” This continues, and I feel my throat starting to hurt, I go into the spare bedroom, which is my room for the time I am home, and slam the door.

            This continues.

January 2015

             I slam the door because I am so thankful that I am back in my apartment, “what’s wrong?” Zara asks, I know that she can see my frustration probably steaming off of my head like her broccoli does when she tries to boil it.

            “I feel like I have been trying to get my life together since September, that’s what’s wrong.” I head straight to my room and throw my bag of clean laundry down on the floor. “You know, I had all of these wonderful expectations of our sophomore year together, and it has been nothing but a struggle. I barely passed biology, I dropped one major and changed it to a minor in something completely different, you got to watch me cry the day before my birthday because classes had already started and I didn’t have a schedule because guess who decided that she wanted to change her life a couple of days before the next semester started. This girl.” I point to myself.

            Zara did her best to make my twentieth birthday special, despite the fact that we were running all over campus trying to get me into classes and figure out if I wanted my minor to be graphic communications. She paid for my dinner with the team, and she made the day memorable, that’s for sure. At the end of the day I texted the guy from the summer and sent him a quick happy birthday text, apparently we have the same birthday, just two years apart. He responded with a quick, “happy birthday to you too! Hope you had a wonderful day, full of blessings!” For the first time in a long time I think about him again, and wonder what would have happened had I stayed back at home for the school year, and not left for college once again.

            My birthday party though, takes place in mid January, right after practice. We spend the practice talking with Daniel who actually decided to come on a Friday instead of a Wednesday. He tells us that he needs to nail his pommel horse routine, but does not tell us why. I figure it is because of the pressure of meet season coming up. Zara however, has decided that she is going to try a new dismount on bars. On the back swing, she is supposed to let go and flip forward, but instead she lands on her head many times in the foam pit.

            “I need something to motivate me, somebody make a bet with me.” I bring her over to me, and ask her what she wants me to do if she does this dismount. “I want you to go for a kiss with Daniel, I know you have been thinking about it. I know you are curious.”

            “Deal,” I say without hesitation. I know she won’t go for it, therefore I won’t have to kiss him, but if I did… it would not be that big of a deal. She goes for the dismount many times, but never fully commits and therefore does not flip, the deal is off, but now that I have been given the possibility to kiss Daniel, I really want to know what it is like. He doesn’t know this, but my Creative Writing professor last semester pushed me, he said, “Get closer to your work,” so I did, and I explored. I explored what it would be like to kiss him, what kind of satisfaction I would get from it. I am more than just curious; my body begs me to know what it would be like whenever I am around him. But I am terrified; I’m scared that when I find out, I’m just going to want more.  

            Whitney, Daniel, Zara and I are the last ones in the gym. Zara gets a ride with Whitney and Daniel and I are left in the gym alone, as he gets dressed. “I’m applying to other colleges,” he says through his shirt, “I want to compete on a varsity team.” I stop my face from cringing. He’s a good gymnast, but is he good enough for varsity? I also feel disappointed, and betrayed, like I always do when somebody tells me that they are thinking of leaving me behind. But I stick beside him, because of all the things I am unsure of, I am sure of my friendship with Daniel. I have always felt that of the three of us, Zara, Daniel and I, Daniels friendship and mine is the strongest. I don’t say anything, which tells him that I am just going to let him talk. “I feel like I need to get out of Michigan. I have lived here long enough, and I feel trapped.” I start to wonder if part of his trapped feelings are because he has not connected with the team as much this year. He talks about how varsity is the only thing he is sure that he wants, and I think about how many things I am unsure of. “What are you thinking about?” He asks at my silence?

            I think for a moment, and decide I don’t want to talk about what I am thinking, “nothing.” I say, and I hear my voice raise an octave.

            “Oh come on Callie, I know when you are lying to me, you have never been good at lying to me. What’s on your mind?”

            “Or maybe I just got really bad at telling you the truth?” I try, but I know he isn’t buying it, so I give in. “This is totally random, but I am curious…” I think of how to word what I want to say next, and decide to just go for it. “Where does your self worth come from Dan?” I realize that is the first time I have called him by a nic-name, and I am not sure if I like the sound of it, but I like the feel of it. It’s like when he calls me Cal; he is the only guy who ever has, outside of family of course. It’s intimate, it’s personal, and it’s another way to say I love you.

            “You know Callie, I’m not sure. I just feel like I have lost my way during my time in college, I don’t even know who I am anymore.” I nod, I don’t think he understands my question, and I mean it is a loaded question.

            We turn off the lights of the gym and shut the door behind us, “lets put it this way, you get down on one knee and propose to a girl who clearly loves you. She wants to say yes, she will say yes, but she just wants to know why? Why should she marry you? What about you is so awesome that she should make such a commitment?”

            “Well, doesn’t she already know her own answer otherwise she wouldn’t say yes, correct?”

            “Correct, but she doesn’t know what you think, she doesn’t know why you think you are worthy of her.”

            He takes a moment and opens the car for us, “you know Callie, I really don’t know.”

            “Oh come on, you have to know something. Is it the way that you value your relationships? Are you strong so you will make a good protector and provider? Is it because you are smart? Or because you are determined, what is it about you that gives you your worth?”

            He shakes his head, he doesn’t know, “what’s your answer?”

            “Honestly?” I look at him; I know he isn’t going to like my answer, “the only thing I can think of is my relationship with God. We were made in his image and likeness, and without his love and forgiveness I mean it’s like I just make noise when I talk or sing, or like I am just wasting oxygen when I breathe or energy when I do gymnastics. He is the only reason I have worth, and that is because he gives it to me.”

            “Callie, the God stuff…”

            “It’s not your thing, I know, but you wanted my answer so I gave it to you, honestly. I wasn’t looking for a God response from you, but what is it about church that makes it ‘not your thing?’” I say with air quotes as he makes a left turn onto Washtenaw Avenue.

            “The whole thing, I mean we go to church, we sing a song next to, and with strangers. You clap, you raise your hands and listen to a guy, who is just as much a sinner as you and I, yell at you for sinning. He then tells you that you have to live your life better or you go to hell. That’s not my thing, it’s a waste of time to me, and it’s extremely hypocritical.”

            “And you would totally be opposed to coming to church with me?” I ask hopeful, but I know I shouldn’t.

            “No Callie, not even for you would I go back to church.” I nod my head; his thinking of church is wrong. They aren’t strangers, they are friends, and people who love and care for you because you decided to get involved with their life group. They watch you grow and help you out in your time of need. We do clap and we do listen, and the guy is as much a sinner as the rest of us, but if you are attending a good, healthy church it isn’t always about sin. It’s about building relationships, it’s about the end times, it’s about saving people, giving them freedom and new life. I wish more people would see that, “besides, I would just be judged anyway.” And bingo, there was the final stereotype.

            “Are you saying I judge you for not being a Christian?”

            “No Callie, that’s not what I mean.”

            “Then what do you mean? Because I try to not judge people. I mean I do, I’m a judgmental person, it’s in my personality quiz results, but it’s not my job to judge. It’s my job to love, it’s my job to know God and make him known.”

            “Then why is it that when I walk into church, a new comer, it feels like I am being judged for everything wrong that I have done?”

            “Because those people that are judging you are probably hiding the same situations and hurt behind a mask. The same situations and hurt that made you come to church, and they are judging you because they can’t be brave enough to face it the same way that you are. When you walk through those doors a new comer, you are out in the open and deciding that maybe giving your problems to God might actually help your situation.” We pull into the parking lot of our apartment, and I smile at him, “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like talking about this, but I care about you, and I want what is best for you.”

            Right before we open the door Daniel stops me, “one last question. Why are you so sure that there is a God out there? I mean, I believe that there is a God, but I’m not certain of any one thing, yet you are certain of it all. What if it is a waste?”

            I take a moment, and look into his eyes, I want to make this sincere, and hopefully it will stick with him, “Dan, I have seen God work in my life, in peoples lives I have seen the blind be given their sight back, I have seen my brothers leg be completely healed, and my family’s financial situation restored. However, if all of it is just the universe working it’s course then what have I wasted? I have wasted my whole life.” Daniel nods, “but if I live a life, not serving God and I get to heavens’ gates and God says, ‘I never knew you,’ then I have wasted my eternity.” He looks like he is taking what I say into consideration, but I am not sure. Recently I have not been sure how to read his facial expressions. I can’t tell if he is thinking deeply or brushing what I say off to the side. “I stole that phrase from Lecrae by the way.”

            He laughs, “I don’t know who that is…”

            An hour later everyone arrives, the beer pong table is out, and the party is in full swing. I am sitting next to Daniel on the couch when Will comes over and hands me a cup. I look at it suspiciously, “what is it?” I ask him.

            “A cranberry juice mix, try it, it’s good!” I take a sip and wait for my taste buds to assess that there is some sort of alcohol in it, but I don’t taste any.

            “It’s good!” I say to him, and take another sip, “no alcohol?” Will shakes his head and gives me thumbs up and walks away.

            “Are you still going to try to kiss Daniel?” Zara asks whispering in my ear.

            “You never actually went for the dismount,” I say.

            She gets up with a red solo cup in her hand, “I still think you should.” I nod at her suggestion, and within a couple of minutes I find myself looking at Daniel differently than I have all year. I have looked at him like I want to kiss him before, but this time it actually seems like it might be a possibility, as if everything has aligned perfectly for tonight to be the night that we kiss. Will hands me another drink, and within two minutes it is gone. I study Daniels lips, the way they move, the way that when he laughs his top lip curls under, and it looks like he doesn’t actually have a top lip, and when his smile spreads, you know that he is truly happy when the top lip disappears and his cheeks gain many layers.

            “What was in this drink?”

            I ask Zara, and she starts laughing, “about five shots worth of alcohol.” I roll my eyes, and I think about how furious I am with her, but Daniel whispers something in my ear, and I am not sure what he said, I can’t pay attention, I just watch his lips. “are you going to kiss him tonight or not?”

            I look at Daniel and in one moment I decide that I am, tonight is the night that I am going to kiss him, if I don’t I am always going to wonder what it was like, and if he is truly thinking about leaving Eastern, then now might be my only shot. I need to get him alone in my room.

            I walk into the kitchen to find Whitney, Will, Zara, Daniel, Kyla and Shawn whispering. “What’s everyone talking about?” I ask and as soon as Daniel turns around I know that he knows.

“Callie, I don’t want to kiss you. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” I give him a frustrated look; he whispers something to Zara and turns to kiss me on the cheek. I give him a nasty look, a kiss on the cheek is not what I want, “Callie, I will kiss you if you really want me to, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship!”

I grab his hands and look him in the eyes, “Look, I am over what cannot happen between you and me, I am just very curious.” I realize the moment he says “okay,” is when I suddenly become good at lying to him because that s the first time I ever get away with it. I am not just curious, I have not wanted something so badly in so long, and I have waited for what seems like forever for this moment. He grabs my waist and I let out a breath of air, thinking that I should be nervous, and coping with the nerves that aren’t even there. The first try, I lean right and he leans left. We fix that quickly. The second time, he closes his eyes and leans in close, and I scream, “I can’t do this!” and back away. When did I get so weird with relationships?

“Callie! Do you want me to kiss you or not!?”

“I’m sorry, yes of course I do! It’s just… it’s been so long!” I grab his waste, and our teammates for a wall to give us some privacy turn off the kitchen lights, and Daniel closes his eyes and leans forward. I just let him come to me as I close my eyes, and his lips firmly press against mine, and for a moment, I realize the kiss is nothing like I expected it to be. I expected to be nervous, and slightly shaking, and not able to breathe, not knowing what was happening. But I am fully aware; I am comfortable, as if this has happened many times before, as if our bodies were supposed to collide in this specific way.

He pulls away and I see his eyebrows rise, “are you satisfied?” I furrow my eyebrows and give a concerned look.

“She wants more,” Whitney, says, as the wall speaks, she gives a devilish grin. I look up to him and ask him if we can just go to my room for some privacy, do our thing and then when we are done just walk away. The alcohol is starting to wear off already. I grab his hand and I lead him to my room, and we pass Zara who, as usual, has some sort of new alcoholic beverage in her hand.

“Are you guys going to kiss? I want to see you guys kiss!” She follows us to my room and we leave the door open as I make fun of him for leaning left. That is when Megan, a freshman on our team, leans her head in, “Megan, get out of here!” Zara yells, and I shut the door. We hear Patricia, another freshman, scream from the living room, “It’s happening! It’s actually happening!”

Zara takes a seat on my bed, and Daniel grabs my waist, and I rest my hands on his upper arms, and I stare into his big brown eyes; I have been waiting for this kiss for a year and a half. From the very first day we became friends, I knew that I was attracted to him, despite the boyfriend. I was faithful the whole time, but it has always been there. As he leans into kiss me for the second time, I have no hesitations. I close my eyes, and his lips touch mine. This time is firmer than before. And just when I think that it is over, as he starts to pull away, but he presses his lips to mine again, and this time I get a full bottom lip. Is it him or I that wants more? Or both? At this point I had expected my hands to be sweating and my heart to be racing but neither are happening. I am just enjoying myself, for the first time since the end of summer, I am happy. I am content right there.

“Well, I’m going to leave you two at it.” Zara says, hopping off my bed, and that is when he abruptly pulls away. No!

            “Are you satisfied?” He asks me, as Zara leaves the room. I don’t want to seem like all I want to do was kiss him, so for the second time in my life, I got away with lying to him.

“Yeah, I’m good now,” I say as he shakes his head and leaves my room.

I just messed up something that was really good. I know that now.

We wake up early in the morning, and everyone meets at the apartment to prepare for the drive to Ohio State University. I am kind of thankful that Zara isn’t coming to this meet; I think I need a break from her. When Daniel knocks on my apartment door, I answer it with a sweet little hello and he just smiles at me quickly and passes me, not saying anything. What did I do? Never mind, don’t answer that, you kissed, him, remember?

This is how the rest of the meet goes, I try to apologize with Daniel siting behind me and looking in mirrors, he has to know that I am sorry for what happened at my birthday party. I even apologize to him in person, but it still isn’t good enough. I am pretty sure that our friendship is over.