We stayed up until dawn. We talked a lot, covering a wide range of topics, from werewolves to failed relationships to family dysfunction. We watched the Home Shopping Network, Callie pretending to buy things, then we watched several episodes of The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross. Callie confessed to having a huge crush on Bob Ross. She said he was the television incarnation of the Buddha. Also, she likened him to Winnie the Pooh. Buddha the Pooh, she called him. Bob Ross’s calming presence and soothing voice had seen Callie through many nights of insomnia.
We listened to Leonard Cohen’s Songs of Love and Hate. Callie clutched my hand tightly for the duration of the album, her nails occasionally digging into my palms.
Do you remember that night in the car, Callie spoke in a soft voice, flashing an easy, mischievous smile. That night I drove you to the airport.
I remember, I said.
Were you surprised?
I was, I said.
Leonard Cohen crooned on, somewhere between the gallows and the gates of heaven.
Callie told me we should go to her bedroom.