Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Kian
I’m skipping study group today. That’s the only thing I regret as I check the route to Boston on my phone, pretending to work out in the weight room.
“Does your tutor do house calls?” Sampson asks from behind me.
“Not for you,” I mutter when he comes to spot me on the bench press. I can imagine it. Him shirtless, smirking, trying every move in the book with her. I shiver.
“I’m not going to steal your girl. I’m just trying to persuade mine to pay attention to me.”
“She wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” Sampson and Amara Evans are Summer’s best friends. No one knows what’s really happening between them, aside from the fact that Dylan and I saw them coming out of the closet at Porter’s last semester.
When Coach blows his whistle, I’m the first one in and out of the showers. It’ll take less than two hours to drive to Kiyomi’s house if I leave before rush hour.
When I park my car in the driveway and jog up the steps to the hockey house, I stop short.
Dylan’s dad is coming down them. I stand there in shock, and when he glances at me he barely acknowledges my existence.
I’ve known this guy since I was a kid. We used to play hockey with him in Dylan’s driveway.
“Hey, Mr. Donovan,” I call as he passes me.
He slows, the crease between his eyebrows tightening. “Hello, Ken.”
“That’s not my name,” I say, but he doesn’t hear it. He’s already unlocking the doors to his shiny Mercedes.
When I walk through the front door, Dylan’s there, looking pissed off.
“Was that your dad?” I ask. “What’s he doing here?”
Dylan’s already walking away. “Being a dick.”
I don’t ask more questions. I’m not sure he’s in the mood to answer anyway. I’m in the entryway when Summer catches me.
“Where are you going?” she asks as I grab my keys from the table.
“Boston,” I say, slipping on my shoes.
Summer stares at me for a long minute before dropping onto the bench beside me. “Alone?”
“It’s probably for the best. I don’t know what to expect.”
She nods sympathetically. “Text me when you get there, okay?”
I promise to and head outside. All the messages I’ve sent to my sister still haven’t been read, and I almost talk myself out of going. But just as I haul myself into my Jeep, I spot someone walking up our driveway.
Scarlett.
The bright hair that I find on my hoodies and the soft smile that eases something in my stomach. She’s got her hair in a loose braid, and she’s wearing a black zip-up and jeans.
“Hey, Scar. What are you doing here?”
“You would never miss a study group. I thought something was wrong,” she says softly.
“I should have told you earlier, but I’m heading to Boston to see my mom.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, I don’t think I can wait anymore. I’ll make up for whatever studying I miss tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Then Scarlett rounds the car, opens the passenger door, and hops into the seat. She fiddles with the radio, like she knows I’d already have a CD popped in. She’s right, because the Fleetwood Mac starts playing, and her shoulders relax.
I’m staring at her in surprise. “You’re coming with me?”
“You’re letting yourself in,” she says, tilting her head. “You can say no, but you were there for me on that date. I told you I’d like to be there for you too. But only if you want that. We should get on the highway before rush hour if we’re going. Boston’s not fun in traffic.”
I chuckle, staring at her bag in the footwell and the UGGs she’s already toed off to fold her legs sideways on the seat.
I close my door. “Yeah, Scarlett. I’d like it if you came with me.”
The last thing I thought I’d do on this trip is smile, but this girl pulled one out of me like I’m so used to doing for others.
···
“You grew up here?” Scarlett asks as we pass by the red maple trees and others shedding, their bare branches just visible as the clear skies dim toward sunset.
“Nah, I grew up in Connecticut. After my dad passed, my mom left Japan and moved in with my sister.”
“Your sister lived alone?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t always like that. She and her husband, Joban, lived together before…everything.”
“Oh shit. Are they divorced now?”
“No, he didn’t want that. He still loves her. I just think Kiyomi didn’t want to force him to do something he never signed up for. Looking after Mom isn’t easy.”
She hums in acknowledgment, staring out the window for a long moment before I pull into the driveway. I spin the thin black band on my thumb, the rough edges of the engraving pressing against my skin. It’s my dad’s old ring.
“You don’t have to go in,” Scarlett suddenly says.
Her brown eyes watch me carefully, flicking to my restless hands and then back up. “We should though,” I say. “I haven’t seen my mom in ages.”
“I can stay in the car if this is a lot. I know family can be…complicated.”
“You’re not staying out here. It’s freezing, and that’s not what you came with me for.” I open my car door. “But just give me a second.”
She nods once and I shut my door, jogging up the steps to the front door of the tiny brick house.
It’s a duplex, so Ki rents one side while the owner lives on the other.
On the doorstep, her mail lies scattered on the old welcome mat that no longer says the full word.
It’s faded on both sides, and all I can really make out is the “elco.” The mail has red stamps on it, notice after notice, too many to be recent.
A knot forms in my stomach when I ring the doorbell, knocking alongside it for good measure. “Kiyomi?” I call. “It’s Kian.”
No answer.
I pull out my phone, dialing her number for the third time since this morning.
Stepping away from the porch, I try to look through the window beside the door, but the white curtains blur my view.
I walk around to check if the lights are on in the bedrooms, but they’re pitch black.
I don’t let myself find Scarlett’s gaze because I’m sure she’s worried, watching me frantically run to the side of the house.
I try Ki’s cell again. Then, as a last resort, my mom’s number. Nothing.
But just as I’m about to pound on her neighbor’s side of the house, my phone rings. The breath that leaves me eases some of the weight in my chest.
“Ki? Are you okay?”
“Kian,” she says with a sigh, like this call is too much for her, and she’d rather not be making it right now. I feel that sigh like she’s breathed it into me.
“Where are you? You’re not home.”
“I’m not, Mom’s been—wait, how do you know I’m not home?”
“Because I’m here. Outside your house. I told you I was coming, Ki.”
There’s shuffling on the other end and the click of a heavy door before she starts, “Kian, I told you it’s not a good time. Why would you do that? You should focus on school.”
“I couldn’t. You never called, and I was worried about you.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, pip. But I wish you would have waited before you made the trip. We’re not going to be home for a while.”
“Why not?” I nearly whisper the question, afraid she might brush me off again.
“It’s Mom. She’s been getting worse lately. We’ve had a few outbursts when she forgets things and can’t really communicate.” The echo of her voice tells me she’s standing in a stairwell. “I was at work, and I forgot that the nurse wasn’t going to come by. Mom didn’t take that well.”
“What do you mean?” I push again.
“She left the house, without a jacket, without her phone. I couldn’t find her and then Joban—” She stops abruptly, breaking at the mention of his name.
But I can fill in the rest. Joban comes to see Ki every day. I only know that because he texts me to check in a few times a year. It’s been four years, and not once has he let Ki go, and I’m sure that’s how he ran into my mom.
“Is she gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. Of course. She’s always okay.” The flimsy words barely hold past her choked sob. From the dead silence, I know she’s muted herself on the phone. To protect me. Again.
“What’s happening to her, Kiyomi? Tell me how I can help—because I can. You just gotta let me.”
“Kian,” her voice is heavier. “This isn’t—you really don’t have to worry about this.”
I barely contain the irritation clawing through me. “But I am! You saying that isn’t going to stop me from worrying. She’s my mom too.”
“I know. I know. Of course, you worry. But you’ve got school—”
“Don’t. Please don’t say that. You always say that.” My frustration threatens to boil over. “I’m here, right now, just tell me where you are. Let me help.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time, but when she does, it fissures my heart. “This isn’t a quick weekend visit, Kian. I’ve been here for over a week. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“Kiyomi—”
“I’m sorry. But it would be best if you went home.”
That’s where I thought I was.
“You’re sure?” I ask again, careful not to push this time because I’m not sure I could handle what she’d say if I insist.
“I’m sure. I’m sorry you came all this way.
I’ll get her to call you as soon as I can.
” Then the phone clicks. I don’t know how long I stay like that, listening to the dial tone, but it must be too long because a warm hand finds its way to the middle of my back and the smell of citrus fills my senses.
“Hey, I know a really good hot chocolate place downtown.”
Scarlett rubs light circles on my back, and only then do I notice the cold that’s seeped into my skin. The only spot that lights up is where she touches me.
We walk back to the car and I open her door before getting in the driver’s side. Watching the house disappear in my rearview feels wrong, and the farther we go, the more I feel stretched thin. I want to do something stupid like wait until they’re home.
It could be days. I don’t care.
“Is your mom okay?” Scarlett finally asks, sounding hesitant.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure Kiyomi will update me,” I say, though I know it’s a lie.
Scarlett types the name of the café into my phone, leading me into the city and to the tiny shop. There isn’t anywhere to sit, so we take our cups and head back to my car.