A Ghost of a Chance

"No deal," Annie laughed.

Cal smiled as Annie and May headed into the twins' room. She loved that they were getting along. She loved how easily Annie had become a part of their lives. Cal smiled as she watched Jamie settle into the crook of Annie's arm on the bed as she began reading. I love everything about Annie... I love her voice, I love-- right at that moment, Cal's eyes swept past Becca's photo on the kids' bookshelf and she froze. I wasn't even thinking about Becca just now. What the hell is wrong with me? Look after the kids and honor Becca's memory. Everything else is just a distraction.

--Chapter 4: The Correspondence (The Two Weeks in Baltimore)--

Cal had just sent the kids off to spend the day with their grandparents and was enjoying her daily coffee -- and her alone time -- when her phone beeped. She turned the phone upside down, preferring to not let the outside world interfere with the serene morning she had set aside for herself.

She would never admit this to anyone, but Cal had been using this time as a way to step -- haltingly -- into a secret compartment in her head, filled with thoughts and memories about one Annabelle Frye. In spite of continually reminding herself to brush off her growing feelings for Annie, she couldn't help revisiting conversations they've had. In many ways, she was envious of how her children were so open with their affection for Annie. Cal wished she could do the same. This thought immediately made her frown and her stomach twisted with discomfort; she felt like Becca could somehow hear those thoughts and it felt like she'd been caught cheating.

"I'm an asshole," she muttered to herself. It seemed like an impossible situation to navigate. She loved how well she and Annie were getting along. It was refreshing and new. Fundamentally, Annie made her feel whole, feel human again. Something Becca isn't around for anymore... Her brain stalled on that last thought, accept the cards you were dealt, Warner. Grow the fuck up.

"Cancer sucks," Cal spat out angrily.

Frustrated by the futility of her solitude, Cal picked up her phone and opened her new text.

{Annie} Hey, it's Annie Frye. Your BFFL.

In spite of her melancholy, Cal laughed. {Cal} Amazing. You managed to make me laugh when I needed it most.

{Annie} You mean 'ROFL'.

{Cal} I'm too old to do text acronyms.

{Annie} Too stubborn, more like.

{Cal} Probably. What are you doing?

{Annie} Smuggling rabbits into Mexico. You?

Cal chuckled, {Cal} Stuck under something heavy. Good thing you texted. Send help.

{Annie} I'm texting b/c think I found something to do with the twins. And since you're responding to texts, whatever you're stuck under can't be all that heavy.

{Cal} That's pretty cold for a BFFL, don't you think?

{Annie} I'm the El Chapo of bunnies, remember?

Cal laughed again, enthralled with the exchange. {Cal} I can't really see you with a moustache.

{Annie} I have to beat them off with a stick when I'm out and about with my facial hair.

{Cal} Them?

{Annie} Other false moustaches clamoring to stick to my upper lip.

And on it went. For the rest of her stay in Baltimore, Cal found herself glued to her phone, waiting for the next text to arrive from Annie, anticipating the rat-a-tat-tat back-and-forth of their messages. Cal had never been someone who required constant correspondence with her company of friends, but with Annie, she became the serial texter she'd always mocked. The increasingly flirtatious edge to the messages only served to make both their hearts flutter happily each time their respective phones buzzed. Cal didn't really want to think too deeply on it -- she was having too much fun -- Annie was, among other things, making her laugh more than she had in a long time.

Annie was no less enthusiastic. If anything, Cal's texts acted as frequent accents of happiness during her day and served to cement her realization that she'd fallen head over heels in love with the woman. However, despite her promise to May, Annie made no plans to discuss any of this explicitly with Cal. It didn't seem right -- especially since Cal had said off-handedly on multiple occasions that she wasn't ready for a new relationship.

The next two weeks flew by, and the momentum of their correspondence was too strong to stop: neither wanted to abandon the connection. The day after her return to New York with the kids, Cal pinged Annie about her promise to take the kids somewhere special.

{Cal} Still on for the cultural festival tomorrow? 10a?

Cal was getting ready to go out for a work dinner as Torrey finished up the twins' bathtime.

{Annie} Who's this? I don't recognize the number.

Cal grinned, her fingers hovering over the keypad, "Two can play at this game..." {Cal} It's Ryan Seacrest. You're the superstar we've been searching for.

{Annie} Sorry, search elsewhere. I'm taking two kids to Flushing Meadows in the morning.

{Cal} They are out of their skulls excited. They might not sleep tonight.

{Annie} Good luck with that.

{Cal} Not my problem. Torrey doing bed time tonight. I've got a work dinner.

{Annie} Who schedules a work dinner on a Friday night?

{Cal} Kind of my fault. They were waiting for me to get back from Baltimore.

{Annie} You are worth waiting for.

Annie gasped. She hadn't meant to write that. She stared at the phone, desperately wishing she could rewind and redo the last thirty seconds. Her brain was frantically trying to figure out how to salvage the situation. "Flood her with more messages, maybe she won't see it..." she said to herself.

{Annie} Is T ok doing bedtime solo?

{Annie} Was he drunk when he agreed to this?

{Annie} Does he know what he's signing up for?

{Annie} Happy to help if he needs.

{Annie} LMK

{Annie} LMK = Let me know.

{Annie} You can thank me for explaining simple text acronyms to you later.

{Annie} You there? If T needs help, I'm happy to come over.

Cal heard her phone buzzing as she finished getting the kids in their pajamas. She scanned the last few texts from Annie and grinned. Cal looked up from her phone, "Annie offered to help you with bedtime tonight. Want me to call in reinforcements?"

"YES! I want Annie to come!" Jamie yelled. Adrian joined in.

Torrey added a couple bricks to the Lego structure he was building with the kids, "No objections from me! The more the merrier!"

{Cal} I'm here, sorry. Was saying goodnight to the kids. T says come on over!.

{Annie} Ok. Be there in 20.

"How the--?" Cal was surprised Annie was that close. She dialed Annie's phone.

"Where are you?" Cal asked incredulously.

"About to get on the One train at twenty-third. I'm headed up to dinner with some friends from grad school, so I'll just make a pit stop at your place."

"Are you sure? This is kinda sudden... and my dinner starts in half an hour so I need to leave now-ish," Cal had a knot of adrenaline in the pit of her stomach. She loved hearing Annie's voice.

"Sure I'm sure! Go to your dinner."

"Okay..." Cal looked down at her feet, suddenly overcome with emotions, "Hey, Belle?"

Torrey caught the nickname and smiled to himself. He smiled more at Cal's next words.

"You're amazing... Thanks. A lot."

"Annie's coming over!" Cal announced as she hung up. The kids clapped happily. Torrey, who knew that Annie had very quickly become one of the twins' (and Cal's) favorite people, was looking forward to spending some time with her.

Cal finished getting ready and kissed the twins goodnight before heading out. Adrian had trouble saying goodbye, but Torrey managed to coax him back to the Lego tower.

Guilt-ridden with how hard it was for her kids to say goodbye to her, Cal lost what little enthusiasm she had for the upcoming dinner with her law firm's other senior partners. She felt obligated to attend -- not just because the firm had been so supportive and wonderful in the past year, but because they'd granted her indefinite paid leave and she felt it was high time she started earning her paycheck again. By the time the appetizers arrived, Cal's morose mood was slightly muted by the wine coursing its way through her body, and a text from Annie saying that the twins were down and that she was headed to her dinner.

The combination of the two was just the thing to take the edge off the small talk and uninteresting work discussion about upcoming promotions and bonuses. Thankfully, nobody wanted to linger after dessert and she found herself getting ready to go home as the clock struck nine. She looked at the tables of people seated around her, every single person seemingly in the best of moods. She scowled.

"Cal?"

Cal looked around to locate the source of the voice.

"Portia Wyse! What are you doing here?" Cal turned to see a friend from college walking towards her. Actually, Portia never just walked, she prowled.

"Wedding. Rehearsal dinner in the private room over there somewhere. You would have known this, of course, if you had called me back."

Cal reddened, knowing that she had ignored Portia's voicemail from earlier in the week.

Portia bumped shoulders with Cal affectionately, "I know you have a lot of your plate. Did you know Paige McConnell? She was the same year as me and Becca."

Cal made a face, "Maybe. Name sounds familiar. She's the one getting married?"

"Second wedding. It's gonna be a hoot. Want to go say hi?" Portia nodded.

"No -- thanks. I was here for a work dinner, I was just about to head home," she replied. Cal had no interest going anywhere near a rehearsal dinner, her distaste was now her standard reaction to anything with a sniff of romance, let alone a wedding.

"I was just thinking of ditching them," Portia looked Cal up and down, "where's home?"

The bluntness of the question shocked Cal, "Uh, Upper West Side."

"I'm headed there myself. Want some company?"

No! Go back to your Happily-Ever-After dinner; "Portia, I'm not good company these days."

"I'm not looking for scintillating conversation, Cal," Portia said suggestively.

That made Cal laugh, "Ok. Ok. Fine. Jesus, Portia, how is it that you still manage to make everything sound X-rated?" Portia, of all her friends and acquaintances from college, was the one who had seemed destined for a life dedicated to bedding as many sex partners as possible. But, to everyone's great surprise, Portia met a strapping Nordic hunk named Henry Thorssen after graduation and married him a year later. With the marriage still going strong in its second decade, everyone surmised that Thor lived up to his nickname and was able to thoroughly provide for Portia's needs.

Portia shrugged as the two of them strolled towards the subway station, "If I've said it once, I've said it a million times: if you can't have fun with sex, why bother living?"

Cal put up her hands, "No sex talk. I don't... I can't really think about that stuff... It's too much."

Portia looped her arm through Cal's, "Ok, I'll give you a pass but you can't ignore your libido forever. If Thor got hit by a bus tomorrow, I know I'd be devastated..."

"Portia, if Thor got hit by a bus, I think the bus would be devastated. Thor would probably walk away with a tiny bus-shaped bruise on his bicep."

Portia laughed, "Funny, Cal. But don't change the subject. You NEED sex!"

Cal blushed, noting that several people on the subway platform turned towards them when they overheard what Portia said.

"Shhh!"

Portia raised her eyebrows defiantly, "I don't care if people heard that! I'm fairly certain everyone agrees with that statement. So. You! You need it. Got your eye on anyone?"

Cal blushed an even deeper red.

Portia's eyebrows arched with curiosity, "CALLAN WARNER! Who is it?! Tell me right now."

Cal shook her head, "Nothing to tell. Romantic pursuits are a little out of my league these days."

"Out of your league? Ppffftt!" Portia made a face, "Hardly. Do you know how many hearts you broke when you hooked up with Becca?"

Cal found the notion ridiculous, "Where do you come up with this shit?"

"Stop avoiding the question. Who is she?"

"Sorry, can't hear you," Cal shouted as the train came screeching into the station.

Portia badgered Cal all the way to Cal's apartment. Cal wouldn't give in -- it was almost as if her heart wanted to keep Annie a secret, to protect the idea of being with her from prying eyes.

"Can I come up and use your bathroom?" Portia asked innocently.

Cal chuckled and shook her head, "If I didn't know you better, I'd think you had nefarious intentions."

Portia flashed a wicked grin, "If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were playing hard to get."

Torrey was sprawled on the couch and watching a movie when the two of them walked in.

"Do you have a photo of this woman?" Portia pressed.

Cal ignored her question, "Torrey, this is Portia. Went to school with Becca and me. Portia, this is Torrey -- big brother number two."

Torrey raised a hand in greeting, "What woman?"

"I can't believe this is happening," Cal rolled her eyes, "Portia, don't you have to urinate?"

"My kegels are like an iron vice," Portia wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously. She turned to Torrey, "I'm trying to figure out who Cal's crushed out on. She keeps denying it, but has blushed sixteen shades of red since we started talking about it."

"I have not!" Cal gave her brother a warning glare.

Torrey ignored it. "The woman in question is Annabelle Frye. Cal is not interested in her at all, like, so not interested that they text constantly."

Portia raised her eyebrows in a display of exaggerated surprise, "Cal! You hate texting. You hate cell phones. Are you getting hot and heavy with this Annabelle woman over text?"

"You guys are so far off the mark it's not even funny," Cal whipped out her phone and pulled up the latest text exchange with Annie, "Here -- look. We were just texting about nothing. Mostly about whether Torrey could handle the kids tonight."

Torrey got up and took the phone from Cal and, with Portia looking over his shoulder, scrolled through the last few messages. He was about to hand the phone back when his eye latched onto one particular text. He squinted at the screen, "I don't think this is nothing, Cal."

Portia's eyes widened when she saw what Torrey did.

"What?" Cal scoffed, "The Ryan Seacrest thing? It was just a joke."

"No, Cal, the 'you are worth waiting for' thing." Portia crossed her arms and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Gimme that!" Cal grabbed the phone back and scanned the screen. {Annie} You are worth waiting for. Somehow, she had missed it in the chaos of getting out the door earlier that evening.

She couldn't move, couldn't think. She looked up slowly. Portia and Torrey were giddy with self-satisfaction. Cal held up her hand, "Stop it. Don't. Just hang on a minute."

Portia headed into the bathroom, "I'm going to relieve myself while you uh, collect your thoughts."

"How come I didn't see this earlier?" Cal asked, feeling uncomfortably exposed.

"You were in a rush, Annie said she'd stop by, Adrian was being clingy."

"But I saw the other texts..." Cal stared at her phone, dazed.

"You're seeing it now, I guess," Torrey grinned, "How are you feeling about it?"

"I don't know," Cal frowned, "I... I don't know."

Portia re-emerged, adjusting her dress, "You should just jump on her when she comes by tomorrow morning."

"How did you --" Cal stared at Portia, "Oh, right, you read the texts. And I'm not jumping on anyone. She probably didn't mean it that way."

"Look, you can say that all you want, but I know flirting when I see it. And you guys are flirting up a storm with the little that I read. Live a little! Live a lot! Hell, fuck your brains out." Portia said the last part almost dismissively as she checked her phone.

Torrey's jaw dropped.

"Portia -- MY KIDS ARE SLEEPING IN THE NEXT ROOM." Cal hissed.

Portia tilted her head and listened, "They are fine. They didn't hear a thing. Oh!" Portia smiled as she answered a text.

Cal's brain was spinning. She'd screwed up somehow, maybe she let the texting get out of hand.

Portia looked up, "Much as I'd like to stay and talk about Annabelle Frye some more, Thor's just getting in from the airport. I've got to go. He's promised me sex for breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the hotel room this weekend."

Some half a dozen air kisses later, the front door closed; Torrey made a noise that was a combination of a laugh and a snort, "Is she for real?"

Cal laughed, "Yep. And this is the older, mellower version of Portia Wyse."

Torrey considered Cal's statement, "Wow. It's almost hard to imagine the high octane version. Her husband's name is 'Thor'?"

"His last name's Thorssen. But it's not far from the mark."

"For the sake of the other guests, I hope the hotel room walls have good insulation..." Torrey sank into the couch, "She does have a point though, you know."

Cal anticipated this, "I don't fuck around, Torrey. You know that."

"I wasn't referring to her speech about sex, I meant her saying you need to live a little."

"I'm barely managing what I'm doing right now, Torrey. There's no room for anything else. It'd be too much."

"Too much what?"

Cal sighed. She walked over to the sofa and slumped into it. "Too much of everything. There's Becca, first of all. I don't want to forget her, I don't want the kids to forget her. I don't want the kids to think I'm forgetting her. I don't want to confuse the kids. I don't want May and David thinking that I am forgetting Becca."

Torrey didn't say anything for a little while. His heart broke as he looked at his sister, who seemed so resigned to her involuntary loneliness.

Torrey wanted so much for Cal to allow herself some room to be happy again, "I sincerely doubt Becca will be forgotten by anyone anytime soon. Cal, you get to have a say in what comes next too, you know? You can't be responsible for everyone else's grief... or confusion."

Cal shook her head, "I'm responsible for how the kids deal with this. There's no one else, Torrey. Becca's death either fucks them up completely, or fucks them up partially. I think that I'm just barely managing the latter. Anything stupid I add to the mix is going to send them straight to therapy for the rest of their lives."

"Having a parent who is deeply lonely and unhappy will also send them to therapy for the rest of their lives."

"I'm not lonely, and I'm not unhappy. So we're fine!"

"Are you?" Torrey sat up straighter and looked his sister in the eye, "This self-imposed purgatory you've put yourself in -- it's making you happy? That's you want?"

"No, course not. I want my wife back, Torrey." Cal said this flatly, and without emotion.

"I know. But you can't have her back," Torrey said quietly.

The siblings sat in silence.

Cal let out a bitter half-laugh, "As if I'd get anywhere looking for a date. I'm in my late thirties, widowed, with two kids. No dating app could spin a profile like that."

"I don't think you need a dating app. Just look at your texts, Cal."

"What?"

"Annie. Portia was right about that too, by the way."

Cal shrugged, "I think Portia was reading too much into it. You all are. That's what I told May when we were in Baltimore. I just like being her friend, Torrey. I can't process anything beyond that." Cal knew she wasn't being completely honest, but what was true was the fact that anything beyond friendship with Annie scared her in more ways than she could contemplate. Yep. I'm screwing this one up big time. Whether it's Annie or Becca, I'm not doing either one of them any favors.