Long Way Down (Calloway Sisters, #4)

by Krista Ritchie

“‘Dear One-Half Crazy Raisin.’” She sways from side to side, naked, in front of me. “‘I thought about making you a nun, but you can thank your sister, the adorable one, for telling me not to be such a dick.’ Thank you, Lily.” Daisy curtseys. I pull out her costume, something navy blue, silver, red, and a winged helmet. She continues reading. “‘Lil said you should be something cool since you’re the coolest girl she’s ever met or whatever. I thought you should be something flighty because you’re all over the goddamn place. We decided on Thor—the girl Thor, which is a real thing in Marvel.’” She bounces on her toes, fucking excited. It makes me happy seeing her this upbeat. “‘P.S.,’” she reads, “‘don’t abuse the hammer.’”

I read his letter. “‘To the brother who’s not the bastard.’—Fucking hilarious, Lo,” I mutter and shake my head. “‘I thought about making you Luke Skywalker since you have such daddy issues…’” I roll my eyes. “‘…but I can’t imagine you in a white robe. Anyway, you have a scar on your eyebrow, which makes you look more like Anakin. Just know, I could’ve made you a bottle of mustard or a banana, so be happy about it.’” Daisy takes out my costume, a blackish-brown robe, tunic, and pants from Star Wars with a plastic lightsaber. It’ll be the nerdiest fucking costume I’ve ever worn, but I’d wear it for Lo. I’d actually wear just about anything for him. I glance down at the letter and silently read the last line. P.S. I don’t think you’re the villain, even if Anakin is.

I remember that Lily told me out of all the Superheroes & Scones employees, Garrison won the “make your own superhero” contest for the Fourth Degree comics. The artist and creators of the comic universe chose his concept: an anti-hero named Sorin X with teleportation powers linked to the proximity of the girl he loves. He can’t teleport more than four miles away from her. And he’s a recovering alcoholic. Sounded a lot like Lo made an impact on Garrison. In some way. Some form. Enough to create a fucking superhero out of him.

I nod, agreeing. She’s dressed as an angel in a knee-length white dress and matching wings, a circular gold wreath on her head. Garrison stands opposite in red slacks, a red T-shirt, and a red-horned headband on his dark brown hair. I still can’t believe my brother gave them couples costumes. “Devil!” Lo shouts at our sister’s boyfriend. Garrison pries his eyes from the computer, and Willow pushes her glasses up. “You know what happens when an angel and a devil create a bodily union?” Okay, now I fucking get it. “The apocalypse. Do the right thing and don’t end the world tonight.”

“Apocalypse,” Lo says, “also know as the end of your godforsaken, puny little life by the powers that be.” “Also known as me,” I chime in. “And me,” Lo finishes with a half-smile. “Welcome to hell.”

“Let’s make a pact. If anyone hassles our sisters tonight, we confront them and handle it with necessary means, according to how antagonistic they are towards us.” She lifts up her dress. “Whoa whoa,” Lo says. “Jesus, Rose, no one wants to—oh.” She has a knife strapped to her thigh. “What, you plan on fucking shanking someone tonight?” I’m suddenly worried. Uneasy. Concerned. All of the fucking above. She’s clearly scared about a public outing. We all haven’t taken one together in a long time, not like this. We’re headed to the Hamptons where some famous singer invited us to her Halloween party, and our bodyguards have to stay outside her mansion. Price included. After our wedding and helping Daisy reach the hospital in Lima, I’ve trusted him a lot more. I still don’t know why Greg would hire someone that young, but I don’t think Price is going to fuck us over. “I plan on being resourceful and cautious.” She raises her chin. “I also have a taser.” “Where?” Lo cringes. “Actually, I don’t want to know.” “You’re telling me that you don’t have a knife?” Rose rebuts. She has a point. I lift up my blackish-brown pants that are tucked into my boot. My brother and Rose can see the hilt of my knife. I usually always carry it around, especially after the crazed fucking media. “Jesus Christ,” Lo curses. “Am I the only one not armed?” I don’t say it out loud, but his words are basically a weapon.

“You’re either really embodying this whole devil thing,” Lo says, “or it’s just in your soul.” Lo’s barely looking at him. He’s currently raiding the house’s pantry with Lily hanging onto his waist, trying to pull him away with lots of effort. “Lo, you can’t.” Ryke follows my gaze, going rigid for a second. Lo retrieves a box of Cheez-Its. “I can. Maybe they should’ve thought about snacks, huh?” He opens the brand new box in front of her face. Lily whispers, “Should we write an IOU?” “Lil,” he says, popping one in his mouth. “Think of it as their birthday present to me.” “It could be worse,” Connor tells her, his attention split between Garrison and them. “He could have broken into their liquor cabinet and consumed a forty-thousand dollar bottle of alcohol.” I’ve heard this story before—of when Ryke met Lo at a Halloween party. After Lo drank some guy’s expensive liquor. Ryke adds, “And had a bunch of Ninja Turtles chase after you down the street.” “See, love,” Lo says to her. “My worst is over.”

I glance at Ryke, and he raises his brows at me like hey, Calloway. And now I do.

“She was hitting on me, you realize that?” the guy retorts. Why do some guys blame it on girls? Rose didn’t do anything wrong. She held a curt conversation with him. That’s it. Connor barely blinks before he says, “Normally I wouldn’t even waste words on someone who I find parochial and meaningless, but maybe I pity you just enough to say this: in the next two centuries, my wife and I will still exist. We will live beyond you through minds and words and hearts. If that makes you feel weak and insignificant, then maybe you should reevaluate your own stance in the world—and not attempt to beat at mine with two flailing hands.”

“I care about you,” I tell her like it shouldn’t be that crazy of a notion by now. “Not because you’re a part of my brother’s life but because you’re a part of mine. You’re my fucking friend. I love you, alright?” She crosses her ankles with an I have to pee face but says in all seriousness, “I know we’ve all grown older together, but I haven’t really felt how much until now.” I was set in my ways back then, ready to pick Lo over Lily, not understanding even a fragment of her own pain, and I was so closed-minded towards her—that I almost missed one of the people I love most. Right in front of me. I’ve learned a lot since then, and I’m a better fucking person because of Lily Calloway.

And then we all look to Lo, his wife’s head on his chest. He hugs her like she’s a part of him. “You think this will help?” he asks us. “Because there’s a lot here.” He motions around the room, his eyes slowing down when he passes me. “There’s a lot here, and…” He chokes up and a tear rolls down his cheek. “You and Lily haven’t hurt us,” I say, my chin trembling. “You’ve given us so much more out of life…” I slide the heel of my palm over my wet cheeks. “It’s only about their actions, not the repercussions of your addictions. Please, please believe in that, Lo.” I know Lily already does.

We’ve never been stronger or loved one another more than we do now.

“Speaking of death,” Daisy segues fucking awfully, spinning in her seat to look at her sister and brother-in-law. “You both know that if Ryke and I suddenly or tragically die somehow, you’ll be the proud new parents of this little one.” She rubs her round stomach, hidden beneath a burgundy tribal sweater. I can’t see their reactions. And then Lo says abruptly, “No one’s dying in this car, so you can turn around and continue thinking about bunnies and unicorns and contemplate the meaning of sprinkled donuts.” “What is the meaning of a sprinkled donut? Do they have feelings? Do they think about us?” Daisy says like she’s auditioning for a Shakespearean play. My lips begin to pull upward, and I reach out to hold her hand, finding hers in a second. Lily sniffs. “Are you crying, Lily?” I can’t look. “No,” she lies. “I just…I know you said we could look after Coconut, but I didn’t think you’d trust us with your baby. Lo and I are the fuck ups of the group, you know? We allow take-backs, so if you need to do a take-back⁠—” “No take-backs,” Daisy interjects. “Hey,” I tell Lily. “We believe in you and Lo, and you’re both amazing fucking parents.” “I’d die happily,” Daisy proclaims.

Friends might not be forever, but maybe friends that you view as family have long-lasting powers, destined to stick around.

It must be thirty minutes later—the bottle set aside and Sullivan asleep again—when the door cracks open one more time. I hear footsteps. And then the feet of another chair scraping across the floor. The wooden seat pulls up right next to mine. When the person sits down, I rotate to find my brother. He slouches and stares out at the rain, and I keep fucking looking at him. Until he meets my gaze and says, “What? You think you’re alone or something?” I inhale a ragged fucking breath, the weight of this killing me. I can’t contain it any fucking longer. I break down, and he stretches his arm over my shoulder. I fucking sob because I’m terrified to live a life without her. Where the world is nothing but dark and lonely again. I don’t know how to be that light for our daughter, but I know I have to fucking try. I know I can’t give up. I know I have to be the man that Daisy fell in love with.

Brightening our entire room without the switch of a lamp. It was a miracle, they said, that she lived. I just keep looking at her every day. I keep holding her, and I listen to all the words she has to say. I will never take a single second of my life for granted.

I have another chance at this, and I refuse to waste another fucking minute of my one life. I refuse to be less than the person I know I am. I’ve woken up. I’ve seen what I used to see.

I stand and tighten my harness, my tattoo on my forearm visible. Daisy has an identical one in the same place. Dates written in small font, vertically lined. 9-27-14 8-12-16 7-15-17 2-4-18 The day that I kissed Daisy for the very first time. The day that I asked her to marry me. The day we became husband and wife. The day our daughter was born. Beneath Sullivan’s birthdate on my forearm, Daisy scribbled in black pen: 5-19-18 Today. The day I climb again.

I intake Daisy’s soul-bearing smile and whisper, “Senza di te, il cielo non ha sole.” I cup her cheek with my free hand. “Without you, the sky has no sun.”

When I become older—when I’m fucking gray, she’ll be able to recall all those times her father climbed. She’ll have watched me, seen me, doing what I love. I never want her to give up on the pieces of existence that make her her. I want Sullivan Minnie Meadows to race one-hundred-and-fifty miles per hour. No brakes in sight. Don’t be afraid of the unknown in tomorrow. Don’t be afraid of death. There is no worse life than a hollow one. So be alive every second of every fucking day. That’s what I hope she’ll do.

After my routine setup, I pull a necklace out of my crew-neck shirt, the silver end bullet-shaped. Only Daisy knows this, but Sully had a will—this poorly written note found in the fucking glove compartment of his green Jeep. In it, he wrote: Give Ryke Meadows my ashes. I want to be in the clouds, and no one is going to get there but him. His parents gave me a small portion of his ashes. The rest, they buried in the ground, so I’m going to do my fucking best to leave him in the sky. “You’re going to climb one last time with me, Sully.” Then I grip the rock. With the corners of my mouth lifting, I rise off the dirt.

Before my sisters and I start crying, Lo cuts in to shift the mood. “So what are you sharing first?” Lo asks me. “How you accidentally drank absinthe in Cancún?” Ryke carried me in his arms. “That one Halloween where you jumped off the roof into the pool?” I was a flying deer. “Or how about”—I don’t like that look in his eye—“when Ryke filmed close-ups of his P in your V?” Oh. My God.

I’ve watched Lo become sober. I’ve watched Lily curb a relentless addiction. (I’m proud of you, sis.) I’ve watched Rose blaze her own trail and put fire to stereotypes. I’ve watched Connor fall in love. With more than just himself. I’ve watched Ryke Meadows unclip his shackles and rise again. And me. I’ve discovered who I am. I’m not letting her go or hiding her to please other people. I am Daisy Petunia Meadows. And I’m here to stay.

My eyes drift to Lo. “I could tell you what I’m sharing first, but it’ll be more fun if you find out during episode one.” He rests his chin on Lily’s shoulder, slightly hunched to do so. “If it’s about me, just remember to use the word bastard.” He flashes that half-smile. He can call himself a bastard, but I haven’t heard him call himself an “idiot” in years. Loren Hale isn’t as self-hating as he used to be. And he’s less of a bastard than he may ever realize. I promise him this, “I’ll paint the most accurate picture of you.” I look around. “Of all of you.”

We made a baby together. Shh, don’t tell my sixteen-year-old self. She’d never stop smiling in front of Ryke Meadows.

We’ve had a rocky start together. We’ve struggled with the balance of our fucking relationship, but after hitting the lowest points in my own life, I looked to Lo. He was there. I don’t think I ever imagined, at the beginning of it all, he’d be stable enough to help me.

But this guy deserves just as much for putting up with our abusive father. For battling an addiction. For never letting go of his wife.

Daisy often talked about living in the wild with me. About being stranded on an island. Just the two of us. Having a baby alone in the rainforest together. I always thought her fantasies were cute, but it’s not until later in our lives that I see her and me and what she imagined and I think, we fucking have that, Calloway. No matter where we are. No matter what we do. It’s who we are. Fucking primal. And this wild, untamable spirit lives within us.

Ryke is the kind of dad who will no doubt bring her cookies in bed, wish her goodnight, read her a story, tuck her in—and even sit in the hallway when she’s scared. He’ll protect her with every fiber of his being. We’ll teach her to rise above and to love herself so much that other people’s hate won’t drag her down. We’ll be ready for laughter. For tears. For the happiness and the sadness. We’ll bask in every small moment together. Just as I do now.

“You knew I’d fucking follow you here,” he realizes, the bowl cupped in his large hands. “You’re the only person who will go where I go.” He’s the only one who ever physically chased after me. Ryke never hesitated to run towards my shadow, as I tried to reignite something that faded away.

Many chips had to fall in perfect place for this moment, not just us sharing a bowl of cereal, staring intently at each other, or Sulli cooing by our sides. Many facets had to go right for something simpler. All three of us, together, existing in the world at the exact same time. It could have been fantasy. While I love the idea of swimming with mermaids, climbing aboard a pirate ship, being the last beings on Earth—there is nothing better than my reality. I can’t think of a greater, more magnificent adventure. Than this one.

I flip him off. He laughs like I’m predictable. And he’s happy about that. You know what I’m happy about—my brother, my little fucking brother—he’s thirteen years sober. Thirteen years. After all we’ve been through, this is what bowls me over the most. He had a lot of chances to turn to a bottle, but he didn’t. I know it was fucking hard. I was there, but as Lily said, “He’s ice in the winter now. He won’t melt.” I believe it every day.

Yesterday, Lo said that I’m a pushover. I let his eight-year-old daughter draw an alien on my arm and stars on my cheek with Sharpie. If Luna Hale asked to pen a spaceship on my forehead, I probably would’ve said just not in my eye.

On her side, Dais reaches out and touches my unshaven jaw. “My wolf,” she yawns into a larger smile. And I just think, Daisy Petunia Meadows can sleep eight to ten hours. She can dream. She can feel that fucking peace. It took a long time, but it didn’t take forever. It didn’t pass her by.

Sulli smiles and rolls onto Daisy’s side. I watch Dais wrap her arms around our older daughter. Sulli lifts her head up and brushes her nose to Daisy’s in a hello. All my girls. This is my family. And I swear to you—there’s no shortage of love in this room. Greater and stronger than anything I experienced growing up, and I just think, this is my life. This is my fucking life—and I’m not alone. I’ve loved every moment. Especially all the ones with them.

Sulli kicks off her sneakers, and asks me, “Where are you going?” She watches me head to the doorway. “To the moon,” Daisy banters, her smile stretching her scar. “Only if I see you there, Calloway.” Daisy whispers, “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

By the fridge, Lily holds a sleepy toddler in a panda onesie, and she whispers quietly with Lo. He has this look like he’s half-listening but really he’s thinking about how adorable his wife fucking is, especially with his daughter right there. I know how this’ll go so I don’t wait around to watch. He’ll tease her by leaning in for a kiss, only to stick his tongue in Lily’s ear. She’ll whisper-hiss his name and then slug his shoulder. He’ll mock wince. They’ll look infatuated with each other, remembering how many years they’ve spent. How far their lives have come. How much love they’ve shared. Their romance has never changed. We all thank the fucking world for that because there is no Lily without Lo. There is no Lo without Lily.

Footsteps squish the grass, and before I see who, Daisy appears beside me. Without speaking, she slides between my legs, and I pull her up, until her back rests against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, both of our eyes on the horizon. Two more people join. Without word, Lo sits down a few feet from me, Lily next to her husband. Pressed together, he holds her while she holds him. Their gazes follow ours, hushed, while warm colors paint the landscape. Connor noiselessly walks outside and stands by a red chair near me. Hands in his pockets. As Rose reaches him, heels sinking in the grass, he extends his hand to her, and she clasps tightly. They both turn and observe the skyline. Air weightless. And unencumbered. All six of us fix our eyes on the rising sun.

There are moments you remember and people you will never fucking forget. While orange light bathes us, while tension flits far, far away, how much we’ve felt—all that we’ve bled—surrenders to our collective love. Lifetimes, days, minutes spent together. As we watch outward. As we watch upward. As our faces warm. We live and breathe in quiet, blissful peace.