***This is an excerpt from Embracing Calla by Tamara Mapstead.
Chapter One: Calla
Two Years Later
So this is thirty-three? My alarm rings, same old, same old. Twenty-seven days of being thirty-three, and all remains the same. Every morning has the same six a.m. start. I roll out of bed, stumbling in the dim light to the closet. My eyes focus, and I grab a white shirt and my cute, cream-colored, high-waisted circle skirt. From the other side of the closet, I grab lace undergarments, also cream-colored, and lay out everything on the bed.
In my bathroom, I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and use Spotify to play my favorite shower song as I wiggle myself into the shower. I listen to the same song each morning: “There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back” by Shawn Mendes. When this song ends, I know my morning shower is over. It’s like this every morning, just a quick rinse-off since I tame my lion’s mane every night.
After the quick shower, I wrap myself in a practically disintegrating towel. I should consider getting new towels. It’s time to get half dressed—just a bra and panties for now. I spray myself with Flowerbomb perfume.
My makeup routine is simple. I used to go all out and contour for the gods. Are the kids still saying that? It’s super simple now; concealer, blush, highlight, and lips. Then I focus on eyelashes.
Everyone has insecurities. One of mine is my eyelashes. They are jerks, and I never leave the house or even the bathroom without curling them. I don’t even have to be going somewhere. I’ll sit on the toilet in the morning and pee while curling my eyelashes.
I’ve been putting lashes on for fourteen years now, and I still suck at it. Why is it that one always goes on super easy, and the other eye is evil?
“Dammit, you stupid eyelash.” I give my reflection the evil eye. I think it’s finally on. I bat my eyes to test it and shrug. I’m sure that, by noon, it will be flapping in the wind.
Like every day before, I’m now running late, so I pull my hair back in a quick, low ponytail while leaving a few wispy, face-framing pieces.
Once I finally finish getting dressed, I run out the door to my favorite place: Amy’s Coffee Shop. It’s entirely out of my way, but I can’t stop going there. It’s a part of my routine that will never change. I do this every workday; I don’t leave the apartment on the weekends.
“Happy Thursday, Flower! Busy day today?” Even Amy, the owner, says the same thing to me every day.
“Hello, Amy! The day is full. So full that my eleven o’clock client canceled thirty minutes ago, and I already have a new eleven.” I’ve been coming here for three years now. I always get the same thing. It’s something I could make at home or the office, but I love this tiny coffee shop. It’s next to a lovely little park that always has a million stray cats. There’s nowhere I’d rather start my day.
I sit outside at the same table and prepare for the day ahead. A few people walk by, and I wave and wish them a good morning. I try to stay positive; you never know who needs a smile. My phone rings, and I roll my eyes as I answer, “Luka.”
“Cal, I was hoping to see you this morning.”
Oh, Luka, you confuse me so much.
“Luka, I’m running late.” I take a long sip of my coffee.
“Then you shouldn’t be sitting there having coffee.”
I look around, fumbling with my coffee cup. How did he know that? “I’m heading to the car right now,” I lie. Is he watching me?
“Come to my office. I need to talk to you about Abbey.”
“Is she okay?”
“Meet me here.” He hangs up.
I don’t know how he does this to me. We haven’t seen each other for three years, and suddenly he’s in my life again. I drive to his office and sit in my car, questioning why I’m doing this. I should know better, but I love Abbey. It’s not her fault that things are complicated.
Inside, I quietly knock on his office door. “Darling Calla!” He’s as calm as ever. “Always my lifesaver!”
I laugh. It’s funny because he is a doctor—probably the hottest doctor ever. Women pretend to be sick just to see him, and that’s pretty impressive considering he specializes in neurology. Do you know how much research goes into being able to convince your insurance team you’re genuinely concerned you have Parkinson’s disease as a healthy thirty-something-year-old woman? Plus, considering the way he is with Abbey, women are always creaming themselves over him. Hot doctor and hot dad, he’s one of a kind.
“Hi, what’s up with Abbey?” I ask as Luka gestures for me to sit. I ignore it.
“What do you mean, Cal?”
Didn’t he say he needed to talk about Abbey? “Right. What do you need, Luka?” He made it all about Abbey to get me here, and Abbey had nothing to do with it.
“I wanted to see you this morning.” He puts his hand on my back and I stand up straight. “Why so tense, Cal?”
“Am I?” I take a deep breath. “Luka, I have to be at the office today at ten a.m., and since it’s 9:30, make it quick.”
“You’re only six minutes to your office.” Is it only six minutes? “I miss you.”
“Luka—“
He stops me. “Calla, I know what you will say.”
I’m sure you don’t, but go on.
“How can someone like me miss you so much?”
Yeah, that wasn’t it.
“Well, I woke up this morning wishing you were in my bed.” He embraces me and makes me more tense when he kisses me. “Why are you so tense?”
“I need to go, Luka.” I break from him.
“Calla, why won’t you let me love you?”
You know why, Luka.
“I would do anything for you.”
That’s a lie.
“You know I’m the only person who could love you.”
“You’re married!” Can’t you tell I’m frustrated?
“Calla, I’ll leave her if you want me to.”
He couldn’t tell. “Right. I’ll believe that when I see it. Anyways, I should go.”
He grabs my arm, pulling me in closer to him, before saying, “If you tell me right now that you will be with me, I’ll divorce her, and since I’m well-off, I’ll get custody of Abbey. We can be the family you’ve always dreamed of having.”
I sigh. “I should go. It was good to see you, but you’ve promised this before, and, well, you married her anyway. So, I’m going to see myself out. I hope you have a great day, Luka.”
He still holds my hand. “Cal, I love you.” He kisses me.
Stop it! I break away.
“You wanna have lunch sometime?”
No. “I have a busy week.”
“Good thing it’s Thursday. I say Saturday for lunch would be fun. You can have a salad.”
“What does that mean?”
“I know you want to keep your figure, and your cheeks are a little chubby today.”
Are they? “Right, I’ll text you. I have to go.” I leave without looking back. If I do, he will make me late, and he’s made my day strange enough as it is.
I sit in my car staring at my cheeks in the rearview mirror. I am a little chubby today, probably because I’ll be starting my period soon.
All I think about during the six-minute drive to work is why he always makes me feel uncomfortable…
