The Calloways

ii. A Routine Call

It was 9am when the pillow under Theo's head began to vibrate. He quickly grabbed his phone and silenced it, letting out a long sigh as his bleary eyes stared at the screen. The date glared back at him. Monday, June 4th. Easily one of the worst days of the year. He let out another, more annoyed sigh.

Calliope still slept to his right, splayed out like a starfish on her stomach facing the opposite direction. Like every time she slept in his bed, Theo was pushed all the way to the edge so the four-year-old could take up as much space as her tiny body possibly could. He sat up and leaned over, making sure that she was breathing just fine like he did often. Several curls, free from what only remained as a ruin of a braid, hung in front of her face and fluttered with every exhale.

It was rare she slept in this late, but then he remembered what had happened that night. A third sigh escaped him. Theo was supposed to start work about now, but the playroom would have to be cleaned before Cly could go in it. At least mostly working from home meant he could get a good amount of the cleaning done before he would start setting himself back.

Getting out from under the covers and standing up, Theo was thankful the mornings were starting to get warmer. The apartment never had very good heating, especially not overnight. He shuffled out to the bathroom, letting out a long yawn as he did so. When he turned on the light and caught his reflection in the mirror he frowned.

It was the same face he had looked at for the past twenty-six years. Brown skin covered with a countless amount of freckles. A long, wide nose; thick, barely-arched brows; droopy dark eyes that his sister always said made him look like a sad puppy. His once-sharp, squared jawline was starting to soften with the rest of his body. Apparently the stress of parenthood could make you gain a few pounds.

He would need to get a haircut soon. The stubble on his face could wait another day, but soon the tops of his ears would be lost. Theo pulled a black curl down in front of his forehead and watched it spring back up when he released it. The last barber he went to was clearly annoyed with the fact that his wiggling toddler had to sit in his lap the entire time, but Calliope had a meltdown anytime he tried to leave her with a sitter.

Theo got to brushing his teeth and washing his face, trying to be quiet in hopes Cly wouldn't wake up until he made good enough progress cleaning. He wondered if he should change out of the same grey sweatpants and t-shirt he had been wearing since Saturday, but decided he didn't care enough at the moment. Maybe later.

The playroom door had remained closed overnight in hopes that he would hear Cly getting in if she made a second attempt. He rubbed his eyes as he opened the door and entered, then stopped when he saw his surroundings. Theo rubbed his eyes again, jaw dropping.

It was clean. The whole room. Spotless. It was nicer than it ever had been. The stuffed animals were in neat rows, the taller ones in the back with the smaller ones in front. All the books on the shelf were arranged in rainbow order by the color of their spines. Costumes in their plastic tub were neatly folded instead of carelessly stuffed inside. The room hadn't been this organized in the entire time he had lived there.

On the carpet in the middle of it all were two delicate piles: one of leaves, and one of petals. Theo stood stiff, staring down at them and wondering what he was supposed to be feeling. Confusion was probably the first proper step, but being himself, he jumped straight to fear.

Turning on his heel as fast as humanly possible he slammed both the playroom and his bedroom door behind him and pulled out his phone. When he opened his address application he cursed at himself for not maintaining contact with anyone at all. Everything's worse when you're a fucking hermit, apparently, he thought as he dialed the only number he could.