Chapter 20 #2
He chuckles, and the atmosphere changes.
We talk for a long time, and eat, and then talk some more.
He tells me about his favorite football memory (a Hail Mary to win the district), and I give him my reasons for enjoying musicals above all other forms of entertainment (because they are objectively better, that’s why).
I tell him about how I want to go to a real Broadway show someday.
He wants to visit Switzerland. We discuss how we’ve both developed a begrudging appreciation of Appalachian culture.
Neither one of us wants to leave the restaurant.
By the time he takes me home, we’re both yawning. He walks me to my door. We linger on the sidewalk in front of my apartment.
“Would it make you skittish if I said I want to do this again soon?”
“Actually, I think I’d be okay with that.” I cock my head. A streetlight shines overhead like we’re lovers being spotlighted in a play. “And I’m shocked I actually mean it.”
His cheeks crease with his open beam. He leans in to kiss me, a soft press of lips that soon turns more passionate. His fingers toy with the hem of my skirt.
I pull away. “Do you want to come in?”
He closes his eyes. “More than I want my next breath,” he says. He steps back. “I want you to know how serious I am, though. This means more to me than just a fling.”
I lean back against the doorframe. A car horn honks somewhere nearby, but I don’t take my eyes off him. “I would still believe you even if you came inside.”
“I know.” He brushes his hand over his hair. “Maybe you should try this denial thing. It’s kind of a fun experiment.”
I laugh. “I’ve never denied myself a single thing. Not since I could indulge myself, anyway.”
He pitches forward and presses his lips against mine again. His mouth is soft.
“Goodnight, Kendall,” he says.
I watch him walk away.
“This pizza might be the highlight of my week.” I take a huge bite and savor it. There’s goat cheese, paprika, spinach, and some kind of cream sauce. I’m in heaven. “Other than seeing my big brother, obviously.”
Blaine smiles at me with his mouth full, so he’s got marinara sauce all over his teeth. It’s disgusting and he definitely did it on purpose. Gloria swats at him.
“Behave,” she says.
We’re at a tiny little pizza place together.
It’s in a residential area and other than the sign outside, it could be another nondescript home with tan siding.
The mismatched chairs and tables lend it an air of haphazard fun.
The food is delicious and the fact the service is slow is almost a feature.
I need to get back home, and I’m sure they do, as well, but we’re enjoying ourselves.
I’m close to my brother in a way I can’t easily explain to other people.
I’m sure growing up poor could drive some people apart, or foster resentment, but we formed a strong bond.
I can remember a few winters where we shivered under a blanket together at night despite our mom doing all she could to keep the house warm.
We stood up for each other in school. Once he got out of school and got a job, he helped me here and there, sending money when he could and offering encouragement.
Despite my talk about him being my asshole brother, I would do anything for him.
“How you feeling?” I aim my question at Gloria.
She tilts her head, her shiny dark hair swinging. She’s not really showing yet, but she lays a hand on her abdomen anyway. “Kinda yucky, actually. Some heartburn, and I didn’t even know that could start yet.”
“Well for your sake, I hope it stops soon.”
“I’ll be glad when he or she is here. But I’m not enjoying the process, that’s for sure.”
“I can’t wait to meet them.” My cheeks ache from smiling. “I’m going to love this little baby. You have no idea.”
“I saw you talk to a little girl at the game,” Blaine says. “I was wondering what kind of stuff you were telling her. Looked like you were talking about me.”
I laugh. “It’s funny you mention that. She asked why you use a wheelchair when you can walk.”
“Yeah? And what did you say?” He takes a bite of his pizza.
“I told her to mind her own fucking business.” At his laugh, I continue. “Nah. I explained it to her, and I think she understood. I’m going to be such an awesome aunt, really. I’m going to teach your kid all kinds of shit.”
“Well that’s not worrisome at all.” Blaine leans back and loops one arm over his chair. He’s smiling. “Supervised visits only for you.”
We eat for a little longer. We’re nearly alone in the tiny restaurant, though the scent of wood-fired pizza from to-go orders wafts through the place. Something scratches at my brain, and I’m terrible at biting my tongue, even though I should in this case. I blurt it out anyway.
“I know you aren’t telling Dad,” I say. “Do you want me to keep it secret, too? I’m supposed to see him again in a couple weeks.”
The silence that follows presses on me like a brick. What is wrong with me? My conversation skills are a masterclass in sticking one’s foot in one’s mouth. Blaine speaks before I can say anything else.
“You can tell him if you want to,” Blaine says quietly. “He’ll probably see us around town here and there anyway, so he’s going to find out. But I don’t want him in my life. This isn’t an invitation from me.”
Blaine is right—I see my dad when I want to, in small doses and controlled environments. He and Blaine live in the same area, fully three hours away from me, and I don’t have to deal with accidentally happening upon him at the grocery store.
Our dad has settled back in Blacksburg, where he works as a mechanic, after moving around some when we were younger.
We even heard he was working as a logger out in Oregon at one point.
He always promised to send money, though it didn’t happen often.
It seemed at the time he would do anything to avoid taking responsibility for us.
When he started coming back around, trying to make amends, I challenged him on that.
He cried and told me he was sorry, that there was no excuse.
For Blaine, forgiveness might never happen. The damage cuts too deep. And I have no right to ask that of him, not when his mental health is better without the man.
“I know. I’m sorry I said that.” I sigh. “You shouldn’t have to spend time with someone who hurt us. I’ve been doing too much of that lately.”
Blaine leans back in his chair. His eyes are intent on me, though his arm loops around Gloria and his wedding ring makes a tick tick tick sound against the wood of her chair when he taps his finger. “What does that mean?”
I wince. “I’ve become sort of friends with Grant Wyndham, actually. He’s changed a lot.”
If the silence before was heavy, this one is oppressive, like an elephant sitting on my chest. I keep digging myself a deeper hole.
Gloria stops eating. “The guy who bullied you?”
“Yes,” I say. “But he’s a completely different person now.”
“I know that look.” Blaine’s face has paled. “Are you, like, involved with him or something?”
“Um . . .”
“Kendall. What the fuck?” His face takes on a reddish cast. He looks like he wants to yell at me.
“He’s changed, I swear.” My voice is small. I’ve never sounded like this before, and I’m not used to defending my actions. Usually I just barrel ahead, consequences be damned.
“I should hope he’s changed,” Blaine says, “because he was a fucking monster to you. Didn’t he steal your clothes in gym class once? That day you had to come home in the cold without long pants on?”
“I know. I fucking know, Blaine. He was terrible.” I give him a pained smile. “I mean, he did give me my clothes back after that. And now he’s trying to make all that up to me.”
“I’ll bet he is.” He sneers. “Is this about trying to fix him yourself? Like you’re doing with Dad?”
“That is not what I’m doing here.” For the third or fourth time in the last month I find myself tearing up, and I have no idea what’s happening to me.
“You think I’ve got some kind of daddy issue or something?
That’s not what this is. People have been disappointing me my whole life, and I choose to think they can do better.
” I blink a few times. “And he gave Mom money.”
“He what?”
“Anonymously. But yeah. A few thousand dollars.”
“What the hell? He’s trying to buy your forgiveness?” He exhales through his nose. “And why didn’t Mom tell me about that?”
Gloria holds up her hands. “Guys. Chill out.”
I take a deep breath. I do need to calm down. Blaine and I have argued before, and we’ve both got strong personalities, but this feels like it’s headed toward something we can’t fix easily.
“If you bring him around, I don’t want anything to do with him, either,” Blaine mutters.
“I’m not going to bring him home or anything,” I say. “It’s not serious.”
Our little argument has put a damper on the evening, and it’s my fault, as usual.
I don’t know why I can’t just leave things alone.
I didn’t even get to tell them I got into med school, and now I feel like the moment to do so has passed.
Before we leave, Gloria hugs me and whispers something in my ear.
“He loves you no matter what,” she says. “He just worries about you.”
I pull back and squeeze her hand. “I know. I’m not going to force him to play nice with people he hates.”
Apprehension fills me. It doesn’t matter how lovely the dates with Grant are, or how good the physical stuff is. Blaine’s reaction is reason number 1,323,827 why I can’t actually be with Grant.