The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

Sushi and I don’t really feel like eating out tonight.”
     
    “No, you’ve never had Sushi,” he corrects. “And just because you haven’t tried something doesn’t mean you don’t like it.” He stifles a laugh by sealing his lips together. “I know this from my own factual evidence.”
     
    “I’m sure you do.” My phone vibrates as it lights up from on top of the stack of shirts. “Dang it, it’s my mom. Give me a second.” 
     
    “Hi Mom,” I answer, shuffling to the corner to get away from the rattle of the washing machines.
     
    “Hi, baby girl,” she says. “How’s your first day of classes?”
     
    “First day of class is on Monday,” I remind her, pushing my fingertip against my ear to block out the rattle of the machines. “Today’s just the day when everyone’s checking in.”
     
    “Well, how’s that going?”
     
    “I already know where everything is, so I’m catching up on my laundry with Seth.”
     
    “Hi, Mrs. Lawrence,” Seth shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.
     
    “Tell him hi for me, honey, okay?” she replies. “And that I can’t wait to meet him.”
     
    I cover the receiver with my hand. “She can’t wait to meet you,” I whisper to Seth and he rolls his eyes.
     
    “Tell her she can’t handle me.” The washing machine stops and he jumps off to open the lid.
     
    “He says he can’t wait to meet you either,” I tell my mom. “In fact, he’s really excited.”
     
    Seth shakes his head, tugging a jacket out of the machine. “Moms are not my thing. You know that.”
     
    “What did he say?” my mom wonders.
     
    “Nothing mom.” The dryer beeps. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
     
    “Hold on sweetie. I just want to say that you sound really happy.”
     
    “I am happy,” I lie through a thick throat, because I know that’s what she wants to hear.
     
    Seth drops his hang-dry only shirt on the edge of the basket, puts his hands on his hips, and narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t lie to your mother, Callie.”
     
    “What’s going on?” my mother asks. “I can hear a bunch of noises.”
     
    “I have to go.” I press the end button before she can say anything else.
     
    “My mom is not like your mom.” I open the dryer door and scoop the rest of my clothes out with my arms. “For the most part, she’s nice. Well, at least when I’m behaving.”
     
    “But you can’t tell her things—really important things.” He flexes his arm that was in a cast when I met him. “Just like my mom.”
     
    “You told your mom.” I bump the dryer door shut with my hip. “It just didn’t go well and I don’t tell my mom, because it will crush her. She’s such a happy person there’s no use cursing her with dark thoughts.” I drop the clothes into the basket as one of the washing machines chugs and bangs against the cement wall. “We can try that new restaurant, if you really, really want.” Picking up the basket, I prop it against my hip. “I’ll add it to my list of new things I’m going to try.”
     
    He grins from ear to ear. “I love that list.”
     
    “I do too… sometimes,” I agree as he gathers a stack of clothes. “And you were brilliant for thinking of it.”
     
    The list was made in the shadows of my dorm room when he admitted to me how he broke his arm and where the scars on his hands came from. He’d been walking home from his last day of school and a bunch of football players had drove up in a truck. They jumped him, beat him, and tried to break him into a thousand pieces that they could dust under the rug. But Seth is strong, which is why I told him my secret, because he knows what it’s like to have something ripped away from you. Although I omitted the gory details because I couldn’t say them aloud.
     
    “I’m a very brilliant man.” He steps aside to let me through the doorway first. “And as long as you hold onto that notion, you’ll be okay.”
     
    We laugh and it’s real, but a dark cloud hovers over us once the sound is stolen by the wind.
     
     
     
     
     
    Kayden
     
    “This room is the size of a box,” I remark, taking in the very small dorm room. We’re in the Downey residence hall, one of the four buildings they stuff the freshmen into. There are two twin size beds and a desk in the far corner. I can cover the space between the beds in two strides and the closet on the far wall barely holds three boxes. “Are you sure you don’t want to get an apartment? I