Tommy and Callie: Once Upon a Time
NOTE: so the truth's out, callie is tennessee's baby mama. but before that, she was also his best friend.
Who: Tommy and Callie May
Where: Tennessee
When: once upon a time
Tommy marches up the dirt path, kicking up clouds of sandy earth as he goes. "I'm the same ol' trouble that you always been through!" he sing-songs under his breath, hopping over a rock so his mama doesn't break her back. He finally reaches the rusty stairs up to the door of Callie's trailer, and he reaches over them to pound his small fist against her door. "Callie May," he shouts, and then takes a step back and squares his feet, aiming a beat-up plastic gun he found in the street at her door. "Come out wit' yer hands up!"
There's a sound of a scuffle behind the door then a tiny squeak before it's pulled open, leaving just the screen door separating them. "Boys ain't s'posed to point guns at girls!" Callie protests with a pout, stamping her tiny foot on the floor of her home. "You put that 'way or I ain't steppin' out like you want." She crosses her arms for emphasis, though she's already taken a step forward to leave.
"I ain't puttin' nothin' away, injun scum!" he announces. His fingers are dirty and his knees are scabbed, and theres a bruise on his cheek from a good smack. "I'm the cowboy, you're the injun! You gotta get shot, them's the rules."
"Do I got a feather in my hair, Tommy boy? Do I? No, no I don't so you put that 'way right now or I ain't sharing my fruity snacks wit' you an'more," she threatens, though it's an obvious lie. She's already snuck in two into her pockets since that morning.
): "You got 'em?" Tommy asks, narrowing his eyes and then slowly lowering the toy gun. "Alright, fine. Guess I won' shoot ya. Wanna come play?"
Callie breaks out into a wide grin, nodding happily, eagerly. She's been waiting for him for hours, but she won't tell him that because it always makes him wrinkle his nose all funny. She makes sure to lock up behind her, even though she doesn't have a key, because she can always stay with Tommy till her daddy gets home anyway. "You wouldn' really shoot me, would ya, Tommy boy?" she asks, coming up just beside him, admiring how much taller he is than her.
"Naw, I don' shoot ladies," he says, before he pokes her in the side with the gun. "'Less they deserve it. Don't be no traitor, Callie May. Gimme them fruity snacks."
"Aw you'll get 'em 'ventually, Tommy boy, boys gotta be all gentlemanly an' wait an' stuff." But she fishes a pack out for him anyway, beaming. "You'd use that gun there to protect me, though, won't ya? Guns're for protectin', daddy says so."
"My daddy says guns is fo' winnin' bets," Tommy informs her, sticking the gun in the back of his jeans and then bending to pick up a flat rock. "Wanna go throw rocks at Hutton's cats?"
Callie makes a face, absently running a hand over her upper arm. "Them cats don't like us already, Tommy boy, why you wanna' make 'em even madder? I still got my scabs. 'Member one got my on my arm, Tommy boy, 'member? Daddy says cats're devil things."
"Your daddy don't know shit, Callie May," Tommy grumbles, filling his pockets with carefully chosen rocks.
"Oh don't you go talkin' 'bout my daddy again!" says Callie, her cherub face twisting in pain. "And you ain't s'posed to be swearin' neither," she adds, a little quieter. She watches him for a few moments, before quietly bending down to pick up some rocks too.
"Don't tell me what to do," Tommy scoffs, standing up straight and then throwing a rock at the side of her trailer as hard as he can, leaving a dent.
Callie makes herself look away so she doesn't end up crying over it. She doesn't want him making fun of her for crying over everything again. Oh, her daddy is going to be mad, but she'll blame it on the boys from across the park, he already doesn't like Tommy. "M'only saying," she mutters quietly, ducking her head to look at the rock in her hands.
Tommy looks over at her, narrowing his eyes. He knows that look - he's seen it on his baby sister a thousand times. "Hey, don't you cry now. Come on, we can go steal some ice cream." He holds out his hand to her, expecting her to take it.
"M'not," Callie insists, even if she is sniffling a little bit. She looks up to see the offered hand, and immediately she feels ten times better. She drops the rock so she can take his hand, giving it a light squeeze as she smiles at him. "You gonna' make me play distra'shun again?"
"Well there ain't no one better at distractin' 'n you," Tennessee says, giving her hand a tug to start walking towards town with her. "But you ain't all that good at stealin'."
"Only cuz my hands're tiny, Tommy boy, tha'sall," she insists, pouting faintly. She doesn't hear the compliment as loud as she hears the critique. "I think today I'll be hurt or somethin'," she murmurs thoughtfully. "Last time I got lost, 'member? This time I can be all sufferin'."
"Want me to hurt ya?" Tommy asks, looking over at her and grinning wide, gap-toothed and crooked. "I'll break them little twig legs!" He'd never really hurt her, but he always says he would.
Callie pouts at him, stepping away a bit, but only a bit. "They ain't twig legs, Tommy boy, you take that back. 'Sides you can't hurt me anyways cuz you'd hafta carry me back an' that makes running 'way more harder."
"Oh, you ain't no fun," Tommy sighs, rolling his eyes. He starts to swing their hands between then, jumping over rocks in the road. "My mama says I can get a dog."
Callie's eyes brighten, her mouth forming a big 'O'. "Really, Tommy boy? You ain't fibbin'?" She pictures a cute little puppy with big brown eyes and a short, waggy tail. "Oh you'll let me play with 'im won't ya? You'd share 'im like I share my fruity snacks, right?"
"Well 'course!" Tommy says, pulling a rock out of his pocket to throw it at the sign leading into the trailer park. "He might bite you, though. Knows girls have cooties."
Callie's eyes brighten, her mouth forming a big 'O'. "Really, Tommy boy? You ain't fibbin'?" She pictures a cute little puppy with big brown eyes and a short, waggy tail. "Oh you'll let me play with 'im won't ya? You'd share 'im like I share my fruity snacks, right?"
"Well 'course!" Tommy says, pulling a rock out of his pocket to throw it at the sign leading into the trailer park. "He might bite you, though. Knows girls have cooties."
"I ain't got no cooties!" Callie insists immediately. She whips her head around to pout at him so fast her hair flies all over her face. "I'm clean, Tommy boy, you know that 'else you wouldn't be holdin' my hand now an' everythin'."
"Well, I did give you a cooties shot," Tommy says, swinging their hands again. "So I guess you're alright for now, but girls always wind up gettin' 'em again. Jus' can't stay clean."
Callie wrinkles her nose at him. "I can," she says with as much confidence as she can muster. "I can stay clean all day, 'till I die even. You'll see, I'll show you, an' then you'll think I'm alright for even ever."
"Fine, you jus' try," Tommy scoffs, pulling another rock out of his pocket and throwing it at a passing car, hitting the back window with a loud crack. The car starts to spin out to skid to a stop, and Tommy lets out a whoop of laughter, tugs hard on Callie's hand, and starts to run.
Who: Tommy and Callie May
Where: Tennessee
When: once upon a time
Tom wakes up to the sound of sirens. He's still a little groggy from a bottle of Jack Daniels he stole earlier, but he pushes himself up from the floor and goes to the window, rubbing his head. Down the dirt road, he sees the bright lights of an ambulance against the evening sky, glinting off metal trailers. His eyes widen, his fingers grab the windowsill. It's Callie's. He inhales sharply and then barrels through the door, long legs carrying him fast down the road to her trailer, his heart pounding.
The paramedics make an awful scene in front of her trailer, waking up all the neighbors. Some of them stand by the windows of their trailers, or even step outside to watch. Some look surprised, but most of them shake their head like they'd known. Callie wants to apologize to them, because she's sorry all the noise and ruckus woke them up, but her voice still won't work, and she's sorry for that too. The paramedics have cluttered in front of her trailer, talking on their walky-talkies, looking at their watches, busy. They don't mind anymore that Callie's snuck off to the side, away from all the noise and medical talk. She can't answer their questions anyway. Sniffling softly, Callie reaches up to rub some warmth along her arms. She wonders why she never noticed it had gotten so cold.
Tom spots her first - she's all he's looking for. He almost collides with her, but he stops himself short, reaching out and grabbing her shoulders. "Callie? Callie, what happened?" He knows its her dad. He isn't surprised, either. He's just glad it isn't her. He'd always been afraid - when he saw her with bruises, when he saw her flinch around the man - that one day he'd snap and give her more than a black eye.
She doesn't see him at first. Her vision had blurred, because she's been thinking back again, and hating herself, so she doesn't notice him till his hands are on her. "T-Tommy--" She sucks in a breath, a tiny sob escaping her lips before she can stop it. Hastily she reaches up to wipe at her eyes, not wanting him to see her crying. But somehow that only makes her tears fall faster, and she hates that too. "It's- daddy. He, um. He wasn't breathin'.."
Tom nods, and then draws her in, pulling her against his chest. "It's alright, it's alright darlin'." Tom is sure her father is dead - it was only a matter of time. Still, he can't find it in his heart to be sorry for the man, only for Callie. She'll be better off, he thinks.
She breaks down a little more when he pulls her in, and this time she allows it. He can't see how fast her tears are falling if she's got her face buried against his chest. "The p-paramedics were real nice 'bout it," she starts to babble, her tiny hands reaching up to clutch the back of his shirt. "Let me say m-my g'byes an' everythin'. Real nice, them. Couldn't answer their questions, though." She hiccoughs on a sob, followed quickly by a shaky laugh. "Said a buncha' words I never even heard of."
"He been drinkin', wasn't he? Finished 'im off," Tommy says, stroking her hair. He doesn't think he's very good at comfort, but he wants her to know he's there. "They gon' ask if you wanna ride to the hospital with 'em. Ain't no use, jus' stay here with me."
"Never liked hospitals. Thinkin' that smell is permanent," sighs Callie. She'd been there only twice in her life, and neither of them had been very good experiences, despite what she tries to tell herself. She grows quiet for a moment, listening to the crackle of the two-way radios. "I don't much feel like sleepin' tonight," she says after a moment. Her tears have subsided but her voice has grown tiny. "Is that bad?"
"Naw. We'll stay up. I'll stay with you. You want me to?" Tom says, lifting his hand to wipe away her tears. His fingers are rough and clumsy, not used to such careful touches, but he tries to be gentle.
It doesn't matter to Callie that his fingers are rough and clumsy; it makes her smile just knowing that he's trying, and for her. She nods in answer to his question, but her words don't match. "Only if you want to," she tells him. She doesn't want to be a bother. She's hesitant to draw away completely, feeling safer standing close to him. "I'm thinkin' I'll just stay out here. Grab a blanket or somethin' and count stars." She and her daddy used to do it all the time, back when things had been better.
"I'll stay out here with you, then," Tom tells her, looking up when a paramedic approaches them and asks Callie if she wants to ride to the hospital with her father. Tom shakes his head, but he lets Callie answer for herself.
Callie musters a smile for the man, though it quivers around the corners. "Ain't no point in sayin' g'bye twice," she says softly, shakily. The man hesitates, darting a wary look towards Tom. "I'm better here," she tells the paramedic in a slightly louder voice. The man nods, finally, before turning away. It doesn't take them much longer before they're all gone, leaving in a blare of sirens and flashing lights. Callie sighs once they're gone, leaning to rest her forehead against Tom's chest. "I didn't cry when it happened to mama," she says quietly. Not that she had understood, then, being only four, but she still feels awful about it. She tries to remember, but can't be too sure if Tom cried for his daddy. She's too afraid to ask.
"You was young, you didn't know," Tommy says, shaking his head and resting his cheek against her temple. "Now you know was' what, you know he ain't comin' back."
Callie grows quiet, staring at a stain on his shirt. "I could've saved him, Tommy," she says after a long pause. "But I was too scared an' didn't come outta' my room till it was too late."
"You couldn't'a saved him, Cal. He dug his own grave and crawled right on into it. He wanted to die, I'll bet," Tommy tells her, winding a lock of her hair around his finger. "You can't save someone if they don't wanna be saved."
Tom's words don't affect Callie at all like he might have intended. Something sharp and heavy strikes at her chest, and it takes her a few moments to remember how to breathe. "You.. you really think he wanted t'die? To- to leave?" she asks him, voice so quiet it's barely a whisper.
Tom frowns and pats her shoulder a little heavily, blindly trying to comfort her. "Sure, 'cause he was a real fool. He wasn't thinkin' a you, only of himself. Real selfish, real mean. Shoulda stuck around for his baby girl."
Callie chews on her bottom lip, trying to understand that. "M-Maybe if I'd been 'round more, maybe. Or if. If I'd gone around tryin' t'make money like he did, maybe he woulda' thought 'bout me."
Tom pulls her into his chest, crushing her face against his shoulder slightly as he hugs her. "He's jus' a great big asshole, Cal. He's jus' an asshole. I won't leave you. I'll think of you."
Callie's trying real hard not to cry again, but he's squeezing her so tight the tears are just popping out. "Promise?" she whimpers, clutching the back of his shirt a little too tightly. "D'you pinky swear?"
"Oh, I ain't swearin' on my pinky, you girls are so weird," he grumbles, squeezing her tighter. "But I ain't goin' no where, promise."
Callie nods against his chest, squeezing her eyes tighter. He won't leave her. He's her friend. Friends don't do that to you. "Okay, Tommy," she says, the words shaky and muffled. "I believe you."
