1. Kinsley #2
Being Luca’s best friend not only comes with all the standard best friend perks but we also enjoy the benefit of kicking the shit out of each other.
We’ve studied jiu-jitsu, karate, and other martial arts for most of our lives.
We’re a good match most days, but I can usually take him down if weapons are involved. And I never let him forget it.
I plop down on the bed. “As much as I’d like to, I still have a ton to do. Besides, I’m still on the mend.” Subconsciously, I touch my side where my stitches were.
“Nice try. I’ll buy the excuse of a lot to do but not the ‘on the mend’ one. You and I both know you’re ready to get back on the mat.”
I grin. “Jeez. Let me have a little more time before you hand me my butt again.”
“I did get you good in our last match.” He laughs and sits beside me, tracing the lines of the dragon tattoo that runs the length of my forearm. “I still can’t believe you’re leaving me.”
I lay my head on his shoulder. “It’s not like I’m moving to Alaska. I’m only a couple of hours away from Maylen.”
“I know,” he grumbles. “How’s your mom holding up?”
My mom hasn’t taken my dad’s death well at all. To say they were in love is like saying you might get burned if you touch fire. The pills have helped numb some of the pain, but I’m not sure the thousands of shattered pieces of her heart can ever be put back together.
I shrug. “The same. It’s like she’s turned into an empty shell. It’s horrible to watch.”
I swipe at the wetness pooling in my eyes. I know she loves me, but I feel like I lost her too when my dad died.
Lifting my head, I knock his shoulder with mine. “Hey, I thought you came over to cheer me up?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Luca jumps up, pulling me with him. He looks around the room of boxes and half-emptied bookshelves. “Why don’t we order pizza while we finish packing?”
And that’s exactly what we do until Silvia, our housekeeper, gently raps on my open door, a man in a dark blue jumpsuit standing next to her. The label on his breast pocket reads Alex. “Are you ready, dear?” she asks.
With the sting of anguish, I answer reluctantly, “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I point to a stack of boxes near the closet. “Those are the ones to be delivered this afternoon.”
The mover in the jumpsuit nods, pulling the tape gun from his belt.
Luca glances at the three boxes. “That’s all you’re bringing?”
I look at the boxes. “What? I packed clothes, toiletries, and a box of miscellaneous crap. My school uniforms were delivered to my uncle’s. What else do I need?”
“There better be a picture of me in one of those boxes.”
I laugh. “You think you’re that important, huh?”
“Hell, yes!” He pulls me into his arms. “I’m going to miss the shit out of you, Kins.”
His words settle with an ache deep in my chest. The thought kills me more than it should. Not seeing Luca every day will be the hardest part. It makes it slightly easier knowing he’s only a call or text away. Only slightly.
Unable to hold back the tears, I let them fall. “Me, too.”
He kisses the top of my head, releases me, and then heads for the door. I grab my jacket and backpack from the back of the desk chair. As Luca goes on ahead, I tap Alex on his shoulder. He pulls the tape across the box, sealing it.
I lower my voice to a whisper. “Can you also bring that small one over there?”
He looks to where I’m pointing. “Sure, miss.”
“Thanks.”
My mom is in the kitchen. She throws back her head, then takes a sip of water. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s trying to numb the pain of the loss of her husband.
“Mom.” The cautiousness in my voice is new when I speak to her now. Before, she was so lively and fun. Now, she’s more like a zombie, just trying to make it to the next day.
She sets down the glass. “Hi, sweetie.”
Luca leans against the counter and looks from me to my mom. I don’t miss his prefab, easygoing expression. Like me, he also notices the change in her.
“Where are you guys off to?” she asks.
I wonder if she remembers that I’m moving to her brother’s house today, where I’ll be staying while she visits her sister. “I’m all packed and ready to leave for Uncle Trey’s.”
A hesitant smile plays on her face, then falls pleasantly into place. “Yes, Trey is looking forward to having you there. It’s perfect that he lives so close to Monarch.”
“Yeah, it is. We talked yesterday. He’s got my room all ready.”
Her fingers play with the ends of her ponytail. She managed to get dressed in a simple flowing sundress and sandals. It’s a step up from her usual attire. The roots of her hair have grown out, and her skin looks pale and chalky. It breaks my heart to see her look so lost without my dad.
“It’s been a while since he’s had someone else living with him, so try to be patient. Help him when you can. Make sure you clean up after yourself.”
I know all of this, but I let her talk it out—do the mom thing. “I will.”
As she opens her arms to me, I go into them with all the sadness, longing, and pain she feels. I swore to myself that when this moment came, I wouldn’t cry, but I’m unable to keep that promise. A tear slips free, falling onto her bare shoulder.
She pulls back and cups my cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, this is for the best. We’ll both take some time away from here, restore our strength, and find our happiness again.” The forced smile on her lips does nothing to sugarcoat the words she desperately wants to believe.
There’s so much I could say to her. Living in the house they built together has been hard for her.
Memories of him are on every wall: family pictures, the art they bought together, and even the light, feather-gray paint they chose from a hundred different swatches.
I want to tell her that being apart isn’t for the best, that we need each other and this is the easy way out, but I don’t say any of those things.
As much as it hurts to admit, she feels she needs time to heal in her way, without me, and I need to respect that.
She continues. “Listen, I’ve had the accountant set up accounts for anything you need.” She hands me an envelope. “Here are debit and credit cards and some cash.”
“Thanks.” I stuff it into my backpack. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
She nods. “I don’t know how long I’m staying with your aunt, but I’m just a phone call away.”
I wish she weren’t leaving at all. But it isn’t fair to ask her to stay. Luca wants me to go with him, but I also have to do certain things to heal. And like me, my mom is doing the best she can. We all are.
I give her one final hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, so much, my beautiful girl.” She walks me to the door.
I try so hard not to look over my shoulder, but I take one last glance at her.
Mom has already disappeared back inside.
There’s hurt stacked upon hurt as I stare at the closed door.
Her pain is masked with pills, while mine is raw and without.
The only thing I’m grateful for is that she didn’t see the brutal way Dad was killed.
Luca patiently waits for me next to my motorcycle.
We hug each other like we may never see each other again.
Before I give a chance for more tears to fall, I climb onto my bike and don’t look back as I drive through the iron gates.
If I do, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to follow through on what I have planned.
It’s almost five when I turn down my uncle’s quiet, picturesque street lined with canopied ficus trees.
His home is nestled in a small neighborhood, a block from the beach, with a few other Key West-style homes.
The driveway of his light blue house is empty when I pull in.
Waves breaking against the shore replace the humming of my motorcycle engine when I turn the engine off.
The sound immediately soothes the tension in my chest. The tightness in my arms and legs eases as I stretch them after the hour ride.
The key is right where he said it would be, under the small stone statue of happy Buddha.
Natural light floods the entry and living room.
Everything is like it’s always been: pastel blue, turquoise, and white are the backdrop to the beachy, nautical décor.
The driftwood table, the antique ore propped in the corner, the picture of me winning my first tournament next to the silver octopus lamp, all of it is the same.
And although I’ve been here a thousand times, today feels different, more permanent.
The house hasn’t changed, but I have. I’m not visiting for a BBQ or watching a martial arts tournament.
This time, I’m here to stay, at least for the next several months.
The note on the kitchen counter reads: At the dojo. Be home around 8. Uncle T.
I already know which bedroom is mine. I used to sleep here when my parents went on vacation or when Silvia took time off for her vacations.
I make my way down the short hall and push open the door.
The queen bed, covered with a light pink comforter, is in the center of the room.
A nightstand is to its left, and an armoire is in the corner.
A new desk with a chair sits against the opposite wall.
I press the switch to turn on the closet light, then throw my backpack on the floor next to the desk. My uniforms are hanging on the wooden rod just as expected. Black and green are the colors that represent Monarch University, the Vipers.
I hate green.
Heading toward the kitchen, I glance into the family and dining rooms. The house is small but quaint and comfortable. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. After taking a drink, I roll the cool bottle over my forehead.
“This is my life now,” I mutter and open the French doors. The sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the silence. The soothing noise and salty air immediately begin to calm my jumping nerves.
The movers arrive thirty minutes later with my boxes.
It doesn’t take long to put away the few things I brought from home.
I set the picture of Mom, Dad, and me on the nightstand, and then the other one with me and Luca winning our first competition.
It’s only been three months since that dreadful night.
It feels like it happened yesterday and also like it was a lifetime ago.
Neither lessens the relentless hurt. I miss him so damn much.
The mess of feelings tangled in my heart is in a constant battle: anger, remorse, regret, frustration, loss, emptiness, and sadness, all vying to be at the forefront.
None of them win for very long before another takes its place.
The small box I asked the mover to bring sits on the floor under the windowsill.
It holds a collection of things left by my father.
I haven’t had the courage to open it yet.
Maybe it’s fear of what I’ll find that keeps me from being brave enough to lift the lid.
Or possibly I don’t open it because when I finally do, I’ll no longer have his treasures to look forward to.
I don’t have the energy to open it today, so I leave it under the sill where the sunshine, the rain, the moon, and the stars can watch over it until I can gather enough courage to lift its lid.
I lie back on the bed and watch the ceiling fan spin in lazy circles.
It’s crazy how you think your life is untouchable, then BAM!
It’s turned upside down in one night. And it will never be the same again.
“Kins, I’m home, and I brought dinner.”
I wake to the sound of my uncle’s voice. Damn, I must have dozed off. Through the curtains, darkness has replaced the light. I glance at my phone. Eight thirty. After pulling on a pair of sweats, I head into the kitchen.
Uncle Trey sets the cardboard box of white paper containers on the island. The smile on his face is as welcoming as it is sad. His short, light brown hair is starting to gray at his sides. With his board shorts and flip-flops, he still looks younger than his forty-two years.
“Come here, kiddo.” He embraces me in a warm hug.
“Thanks, Uncle Trey.”
He rests his chin on the top of my head. “Anything you need, I’m here.”
“Thank you.” For the third time today, I cry.
We make small talk as we eat. After our bellies are full of lo mein, cashew chicken, fried rice, and egg rolls, I fold the tops of the half-eaten boxes and place the leftovers in the fridge.
When I turn, my uncle says, “Here,” and tosses me a fortune cookie.
I catch it and smile. After ripping open the cellophane, I break the cookie in two. The small piece of paper blossoms from its center.
A stranger will teach you true sacrifice.
“Whatever the hell that means,” I mutter as I toss the shred of nonsense into the trash.
Besides getting my uniform ready for tomorrow, there’s one thing I have to do. I tell Uncle Trey good night and head for my room.
He glances at his watch. “Just so I’m not crazy, most college students don’t usually go to bed before ten, right?”
I chuckle. “I’m just tired.”
“Completely understandable. And have no fear, I’ll get the hang of this...” He wags his hand between us. “Just give me a couple of weeks.”
“You got it.” I smile, then head for my room.
In the en suite bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror as I pull the band from my hair.
Light glints off my double eyebrow piercings, one a ring, the other a small, curved barbell.
Blonde hair cascades down my back. I’ll miss it a lot, but what I need to do is necessary for what’s to come.
I set the box of dye on the edge of the sink.
An hour later, as I look at myself in the mirror, I barely recognize the girl with bright blue eyes and dyed black hair staring back at me.
It’s amazing that with one little box that costs less than ten bucks, I can transform into a different person, a person who will be recognized by fewer than a handful of people as once being a blonde.
I don’t know who confronted me the night my father was killed. I only know he’s a part of Venom, and I can’t risk being recognized tomorrow when I step onto Monarch’s campus, otherwise known as Venom’s den.
Murder isn’t exactly on my list, but hell, who knows what I’ll be capable of when I come face to face with the snake responsible for killing my father.
There are only three things I know for certain: his death wasn’t an accident, Venom was behind it, and they will pay for what they’ve taken from me, one way or another.