Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

Callum

I don't know what I'm doing. I think I might have offended her by grabbing her waist without asking. I don't know why I did it either because the last thing I want is to offend this incredible girl.

"So, tell me, how were you orphaned?" I asked. Shock colors her face. Nice start there, goofball. Really sensitive. "I'm sor...," I start, but before I can even finish, she bursts out laughing.

"I've never actually had anyone ask me that so blatantly before yet it doesn't seem like such an unnatural question, seeming as we share the same plight."

"And what plight is that?" I ask.

"Oh, I don't know. The one where we meet in the lobby of social services after being kicked out of our foster homes for being afflicted with the 'eighteen disease'. Not to mention the part where we're standing in line together at The Hope House, a relief center that can't accommodate the demands being asked of it."

"God, you're plucky," I blurted out.

"You know it, but to answer your question..."

"What question?"

"The one where you asked me how I became an orphan?"

"'Kay."

She took a deep breath, readying herself to spew the prepared speech all us orphans kept at the tip of our tongues. "I'm not truly an orphan. My mother is alive and I’m hoping well somewhere out there but I've never met her. She left me at the hospital she gave birth to me at, slapped the name Harper on me, before peacin' it out and wishing me the best.

“I was adopted almost immediately into a young family who thought they could handle the demands of an infant. When they discovered that they couldn't handle one addicted to drugs, they passed me over. At three, I began the tireless process of being passed around once a year in the foster system. I assume my dad is some deadbeat crackhead, probably doesn't even know I'm alive. Anytime I pass a dude beggin' for change, if he could be my father's age, I slip him a buck or two in hopes he sees something in me he could recognize."

"Has it worked?"

"Nah, but my fingers are crossed," she teased.

"Wow, that is a sad, pathetic story," I prod.

"Tell me about it."

"My story's better than your story, though."

"That so?" Both her brows are raised in challenge.

"Yeah, double the pathetic, quadruple the sad."

"No kidding."

“As I said before, my parents died in a car wreck when I was four. I barely remember either of them. From what I can gather from my limited memories, though, they were loving. I think my father may have been an attorney because he was always on the phone and I remember the words brief, client, and evidence were at the top of his vocabulary.

“I remember my mother was sweet and kind and that we'd always bake cookies on Sunday after church. It's my only distinct memory of her. I would sit at a kitchen island on a stool and we'd mix all the ingredients, then she'd ask me questions about whatever difficulty my four year old life could conjure up while they baked and when the bell tolled, no pun intended, we'd grab hot cookies, dip them in our milk and life would be peachy.

“I don't remember the day they died. I suppose I may have blocked it out but I was in the car with them and the car seat they paid a freakin' fortune for may have saved my life but left me utterly alone.”

Her breathing got deeper.

“My mom was an only child,” I continued. “My dad had a half-brother who was only ten at the time of my parents passing. He was raised by his maternal grandparents. So, basically, there was no one to take care of me."

“Damn, Callum. That’s tragic,” she said, the teasing losing its potency.

Suddenly, our attempts at trying to make light of our misfortune lost their charm. I hung my head against my chest and breathed deeply, exhaling acceptance with each blow. I was no longer interested in acknowledging my lot in life. I was in line, begging to stay on a revolting cot, that’d had probably slept a thousand others before me. The worst part was I had no idea if I’d get to have even that.

Sensing my discomfort, Harper took initiative and wrapped her hand within mine, squeezing reassurance into my heart. I looked over at her and smiled as lightheartedly as possible. She squeezed harder. It’s funny how this total stranger could relate to me better than anyone else I’d ever met. It was as if I’d known her my entire life.

“It’s like I’ve known you my entire life,” I stupidly admit.