Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Kit
Tess doesn’t ask a single question. Not for the extent of my pity party. Not when I finally shift the car into reverse and back out of the parking spot over crackling gravel. I stop at the only fast-food restaurant in town, a burger joint that was once a McDonald’s that went out of business my senior year of high school. When it reopened a few years later, the new owners named it McNamara’s so the golden arches didn’t have to be swapped, only painted. Their last name was actually Sorensen. In fact, I have no clue where McNamara came from, but points for resourcefulness I guess.
Tess and I get out of the car in silence, order our food without looking at each other, and then she disappears into the bathroom with a muttered, “I’ll be right back.”
I shouldn’t have allowed her to come. What on earth was I thinking?
The truth is, I wasn’t thinking. It was pure instinct, primal and urgent, that held my tongue when she insisted on joining me. Because even if I knew this was going to be bad, I also wanted her by my side more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. The idea that I could walk away from my brother into the safety of Tess’s presence was too enticing to ignore. If I were a better man, I’d have told her to stay. But I’m not. Never will be when it comes to her, I’m afraid.
I collect our order, one greasy paper bag and two Cokes, from the acne-prone cashier. Tess waits for me by the door, right hand nervously working the hem of her cotton button-down. I hold out her drink, and she takes it without a word.
“Okay,” I say as we each shut our car doors behind us. The scent of fried food quickly fills the cab. I’ll have to leave the windows cracked tonight, otherwise we’ll smell like a deep fryer by the time we get back to the Carmen. “I’m ready to talk.”
She swallows a fry and shakes her head. “You don’t have to. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You just watched me bail my brother out of jail without so much as a flinch.”
“So that was your brother.” It’s not a question. Merely an observation. She takes a long pull from the straw in her Coke, then deposits it in the cupholder and rests her chin in an upturned hand, elbow braced on the center console. “I’m not going to pry, Kit. It was a surprise. But I’m glad I was there. You didn’t need to go through that alone.”
My chest physically aches at her words. I’d be convinced I’m having a heart attack if the circumstances were different. But they aren’t. Gage is currently on his way back to his normal life, without an inch of remorse for what he did. And I’m in a car with Tess, thinking she looks more beautiful, yet unattainable, by the second.
After all, how could she want to be part of a mess like this? A mess like me?
She breaks eye contact first, and probably for the better. I don’t fully trust that my brother won’t go back on his word and head straight for our parents’ house. I crank the car and say a prayer of thanks for whomever invented air conditioning, because I’d be fainting without it. From the sweltering Mississippi heat as well as the pain of being back under such awful circumstances.
It’s not that I thought I’d never come home. I just wasn’t ready. Still am not. But like is so often true for him, Gage didn’t give me much of a choice.
“Gage is his name.” I say it mostly to fill the silence, but once the faucet’s on, it’s hard to stop. “He’s my kid brother, six years younger than me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her lips form a limp smile. “I always wanted a little brother.”
My brows knit together. “Parents didn’t want more kids?”
She shakes her head. “Said they nailed it the first time. I never appreciated the euphemism, but it’s a sweet sentiment nonetheless.”
A laugh scalds my throat. I take a sip of my Coke to soothe it, swallowing hard. “Well, take it from me. They saved you a lot of headaches.”
“Still, it would’ve been nice.” She hums thoughtfully, gaze trained out the window at a swath of trees smothered by kudzu on the side of the road. “When they died, I would’ve done anything to have a sibling. Someone who understood what it was like to be me.”
At a stop sign, I let my eyes close and try to imagine a world in which my parents are gone and Gage is all I have left. When I speak again, my voice is limp. Lifeless. “He’s a drug addict. Has been for a while now. Rehab, scared straight programs, AA. None of it helped.”
Her palm settles over my knee. Even through my jeans, and despite the heat outside, her warmth is soothing. “I’m so sorry, Kit. I can’t imagine.”
I roll through the intersection, past a few run-down houses, then turn right down a familiar two-lane highway. “My parents can’t know about today. Promise you won’t say anything?”
A quick glance tells me she’s blinking in shocked confusion. “Do they not know about his drug problems?”
“Oh, they do. But I made him stop calling them for shit like this years ago. He was bleeding them dry. Financially and emotionally. They’re getting older, and I just couldn’t stand to watch it break them down every time he relapsed. So I handle things now. It’s better this way.”
“For whom?” she asks quietly, almost as if she doesn’t expect an answer. And there’s no time to give her one, because my childhood home has come into view.
I gaze up at the familiar facade, trying to see it through her eyes. The faded brick that’s more pink than red these days. The sagging carport my dad added on in ’99. They’ve built a shed since I last visited, which I know from our texts is meant to hold all Mom’s gardening supplies. It’s bright purple and looks so garish next to the ’70’s ranch-style home that I let out a harsh laugh. Tess raises a brow at me, and I just shake my head.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask while gnawing at my bottom lip.
She shrugs. “Parents love me. I’m pretty sure Samantha’s mom wanted to keep me in the breakup.”
This time my laugh is genuine. Who wouldn’t want to keep Tess? “Come on, then. No time like the present.”
With her lunch in one hand, Tess meets me at the front of the car and loops the other around my arm. She traces imaginary shapes into the crook of my elbow the entire walk up, and it gives me the courage I so sorely need to knock on my parents’ door.
* * *
“I just cannot believe you are here, son.” Dad slaps his knees and pushes to a stand. “You sure you don’t want a beer?”
“I’m good,” I say, waving a hand. I glance to my right at Tess, who’s leaning away from me to gaze adoringly at the photo album my mom is holding out for her to see. “Do you want one, shnookums? ”
She rolls her eyes and gives a breathy laugh. “No, honeybun, I’m already drunk on the high of seeing your naked baby tush.”
My jaw slackens. “Mama, you promised no tush!”
“I can’t help it! You just have the cutest little butt.” Mom elbows Tess gently, and winks. “I’m sure you agree.”
Tess presses her lips together, cheeks flushed pink, and nods while holding back laughter. Satisfied, Mom goes back to flipping pages. Tess meets my gaze and widens her eyes in an expression that screams, You owe me one.
We spent the first thirty minutes trying to convince them we weren’t a couple. I’m not sure who gave in first, realizing resistance was futile, but soon artificial honey coated our voices and increasingly ridiculous pet names started slipping out. It’s a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the morning. I convince myself that’s why Tess is going along with it—to make me feel better. Not because she enjoys pretending it’s real even the tiniest bit.
It’s me. I’m the one enjoying it.
The inside of the house remains largely unchanged. A red brick hearth dominates the living room, even though it’s rarely ever cold enough in southern Mississippi to justify a fire. Folded TV trays are stacked against the wood-paneled wall by the opening that leads to the kitchen, and the vague scent of Pine Sol clings to everything, even the cat.
Bringing Courtney here was different. Her family came from a well-to-do area just outside Atlanta. They had more money than they knew what to do with, and spent a metric ton of it on their three children. My ex-wife was the youngest, and spoiled as such. Whenever she stepped foot in my childhood home, she kept her nose turned up till we left. Too dusty, too dated, too dark for her. Even before the divorce, my visits home had grown infrequent at best, between work and her distaste for it all.
But I feel none of that uneasiness with Tess. She snuggles beneath the threadbare afghan Mama draped over their legs to keep warm, while the window unit works hard to keep the room at subzero temps. Her fingers are buried in Petal’s butt fluff, which has the calico purring like mad. This couch is as old as I am, covered in a floral design that would announce its age even if the holes in the arms didn’t. Tess pays the exposed padding no mind. Or if she does, she’s good at hiding it.
“So what have you two kids been up to? What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Dad asks as he settles back into his recliner with a grunt and the hiss of an opening can of Bud Light. Age is creeping up on him in a way that pictures didn’t convey. His skin folds easily. His arms are littered with sunspots. He still has all his hair, but it’s more salt than pepper these days.
I open my mouth to answer, but choke on the lump in my throat. I’ve missed him. Missed both of them so much. And now that I’m here, it’s hard to imagine why I stayed away so long. I’d built up in my mind that there’d be a lecture waiting for me about the sanctity of marriage. An accusation that I didn’t try hard enough to save it.
It could still be coming. They may not want to say anything in front of Tess. And while it’s probably pathetic, I’m happy to use her as a human shield for as long as I can.
“Kit came with me on my annual summer vacation. I’m originally from a small town in Alabama, and I grew up visiting a spot on the Florida panhandle every year.” Tess reaches over to pat my knee. Her drawl is thicker than it’s ever been, drawn out by my parents, who have the dialect of two people who’ve never been farther north than Memphis. “We made a deal that if he came with me, I’d come to see y’all with him. Isn’t that right, pumpkin?”
Oh, she’s good. My mouth curves into a grin even as I’m shaking my head nearly imperceptibly. “Sure is, teapot.”
Teapot? she mouths. I shrug.
“Oh surely y’all aren’t driving all this way just for lunch from greasy old McNamara’s?” Mom asks, eyebrows drawn tight around the wrinkle between them.
I rub my palms over my knees to dry them. “Actually, if it’s all right with you, we were going to stay the night? Spend a little time catching up?”
Mom squeals and claps so loudly, Petal darts from beneath Tess’s hand and disappears under the solid oak coffee table. Dad raises his can in a toast. “Of course you two can stay. I’ve got a butt roasting in the smoker. Plenty of food for everyone.”
Eyeballing the wrought-iron cross hanging over the mantel where a TV would go in anyone else’s home, I say, “Okay, great. Tess can have my old room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Dad clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “No can do, son. Couch is my domain.”
“Since when?”
“Since he refuses to get a CPAP for his apnea. Keeps me up all GD night,” Mom says. She’s the only person I know who uses initials instead of curse words, like she’ll get to heaven on that technicality alone. She nudges Tess, who laughs politely. I can see the panic in her eyes. The tightness at the corners of her mouth. But Mom goes on, completely oblivious. “I’m sure your parents know all about that, Tess. Getting old is for the birds.”
Tess’s lips cinch together, and her gaze drops to her hands where they rest in her lap. “Oh, I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded.”
Mom’s gaze cuts from Tess to me, a question in her muddy-water-colored eyes that are nearly identical to mine.
I grab Tess’s hand on instinct. “Tess’s parents passed when she was in high school.”
“Oh, Betty!” Dad chastises, though Mom had no way of knowing. Still, my mother flushes scarlet and looks halfway to tears.
“It’s really okay.” Tess glances up, locking eyes with my mom and then Dad in turn. “It’s been a long time. I’m all right.”
“Hon, my mama passed when I was thirteen. Cancer. She was gone so quick I could hardly believe it.” Mom takes Tess’s other hand in hers. “I am so sorry. You don’t ever have to be okay ’round me. I know that hurt doesn’t go away. No matter how long it’s been.”
Tess meets Mom’s gaze for a long beat. I can only see her profile; the slight warble of her bottom lip and the tears that dampen the corner of her lashes are all that gives her away. Finally she whispers, “Thank you,” in a fractured voice I’ve rarely heard from her.
Damn. Less than an hour, and my mom has broken through to a part of Tess she guards like it’s a matter of national security. I squeeze the hand I’d been holding, willing her to look at me. And she does. But not before the happy mask slips back into place.
“So anyway,” Dad says, clearing his throat. “Gage’s room is now our home storage unit. But we put a queen in your room, so you ought to have plenty of space for the two of you.” He narrows his gaze when I turn to look at him, and adds, “Just no funny business, you hear me?”
Tess cackles, startling all of us. “Oh, sorry,” she says when we glance her way. “It’s just—we promise. No funny business. Right, Kit?”
Before I can answer, Mom inserts, “Your father and I were young once, too. We know how those hormones rage. We just ask that you be respectful, is all.”
I glance between the two strangers who’ve body snatched my parents. “I’m sorry, where are the people who threatened military school if I was ever caught having premarital sex?”
Dad shrugs. “We’ve gotten mellow in our old age. You’d know that if you ever came around.”
Well, shit. That stings. Tess flinches, meeting my gaze with hers wide and apologetic. I duck my chin, averting my eyes to the family portrait on the wall between the two front windows. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“It’s okay. We know you work hard, and it’s such a long distance from Colorado,” Mom says, always the one to smooth things over when she can. “Heck, Gage lives in town, and we hardly see him. That boy has no excuse.”
I study the version of him from the portrait, still gap-toothed and gangly. The summer before it all went to shit. “I’m sure he’s just busy.”
“He’s doing good lately,” Dad says sternly, almost like he’s trying to convince himself. “Staying clean.”
I nod but don’t comment. Tess rubs her thumb over my knuckles. I drop my gaze to our joined hands, a lifeline I’d intended for her to use, not the other way around. “Well, I guess Tess and I should unload our bags and get cleaned up. Then I can help with dinner prep?”
“Christopher Llewellyn, are you offering to cook?” Mom flattens a hand over her heart. “As I live and breathe.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I chide. “Keep being sassy and I won’t help at all.”
“So no different than the usual?” she quips back, and Dad lets out a raucous laugh.
“Come on, dear. Let me show you my room,” I say pointedly. I gather Tess’s and my bags from the pile where I left them by the door and guide her down the hall. The house is evenly divided, with a large master on one side of the living space and two bedrooms and a guest bath lining the opposite hallway. We duck into the farthest room, where I shut the door behind us before flipping on the lights.
It’s exactly as I left it all those years ago, save for the queen bed that’s replaced my old bunks. Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader poster and all.
“Great taste,” Tess says, laughing at the artwork. The smile dies a second later, when her gaze falls on the bed. “What are the odds you’ll share a bed with your mom?”
I shudder. “Not great.”
She props her hands on her hips and sighs. “If I suspect you’re trying to get fresh with me, I’m telling Pete.”
My laughter bounces off the walls but is quickly punctuated by a pillow to the face.
“I’m serious,” she says, pointing a finger at me. “Your dad would help me kick your ass.”
“Oh, I have no doubt.” I flop onto the mattress, letting my bones disintegrate for a second of sweet relief. The comforter blocks half my vision as I roll my head to gaze at Tess, but I wink with the one good eye and pat the empty space beside me. “I promise no funny business,” I say, quoting my father. And then, because things have been far too serious between us today, I add, “Unless you ask for it.”
It earns me another pillow to the face. But it’s worth it.