29. River
CHAPTER 29
River
The moment I confessed my love for Kennedy, it felt like a weight had been lifted. Aside from my parents and my brother, I have kept myself from telling anyone I loved them. Now that I think about it, I don’t even think Kailey and I told each other we loved one another in high school, despite how long we dated. I knew whatever I felt for Kennedy was deep, but I kept talking myself out of the fact it could be love.
That night, when we decided to make this thing between us something more than a physical need, I knew it was love that was making its way into my heart. I think I knew, even when it felt like we were enemies throughout the years, that I loved her to some degree. I look back and remember watching her movements and thinking that I would catch her if she fell.
Little did I realize that she would fall into my arms, and I would never want to let her go. I look at her, and I don’t just see tomorrow; I see next month, next year, and all the other milestones with her by my side. The craziest part is this came out of nowhere for both of us. For so long, we’ve felt as if we were pushing away from one another, only to see us gravitating closer with each step.
I move my hand over to interlace our fingers. My mother asked, or shall I say demanded, that I bring Kennedy over for Sunday dinner.
“I can’t fucking believe this is happening,” my brother pipes up from the backseat.
He had the means of coming on his own, but I know he just wanted to tag along to bother us on the drive over.
“Awww, Clay, just getting a step closer to you.” Kennedy winks.
“The fuck, Skipper!”
They both laugh—traitors—and I scowl. After a beat, I bring my gaze back in front of me.
“Mom is going to lose her mind. She always looked at me as the one with my shit figured out. She never imagined River would save the day and get her a step closer to having grandchildren.”
I know my brother is playing around, but I see the slight change in his features when he makes that little joke. I know what he not only lost after Abby left but also what he lost when they were together. The moment she walked out, though, she took all his dreams with her.
I move my eyes to look into the rearview, catching my brother’s gaze where I’m joined with Kennedy. His gaze quickly darts up to meet mine, and he gives a small smile.
As we pull up to the house, we find my mother standing in her garden, pretending to tend to her flowers. The moment we park, she acts surprised to see us. This woman is way too transparent.
My brother and I move out of the car, my brother going in for a hug when my mom pushes him aside and grabs hold of my girlfriend, pulling her into a hug.
“Ma, what the hell?” Clay exclaims as my mother hushes him and directs all her words to Kennedy.
“Come here, you saint of a woman. I know what a pest River can be, and I’m so glad you’re taking a chance on him,” she says, and I stop in my tracks in shock that my mom would throw me under the bus like that.
“Hey, I heard that!” I say, throwing my hands up in the air.
“It was meant for you to hear, son. Now come along, make yourselves useful, boys. The table needs to be set. Kennedy and I have some chatting to do.” She gestures for my brother and me to go inside while she steals Kennedy away from me.
I look back at them, and the satisfied look moving across Kennedy’s’ face tells me all I need to know: she loves the fact she’s the new favorite in the Nichols household.
* * *
“Oh, you should have seen him. My sister and I were exhausted, and all we wanted was to put those rascals to bed and call it a day. We came back from the beach and bathed Clay, River, and Antonia together, but the look of horror that passed across his face was priceless. He pointed at his cousin Toni and said, ‘Auntie, her penis fell off!’”
Even as my mom retells this story for the hundredth time, she laughs about it like it’s her first time reliving it.
“I swear I nearly peed my pants.” My mother cackles, and Clay being the dick he is, laughs right there with her. Motherfucker! I’ll find a way to dig up some shitty story about him and share it with the next girl he brings over.
“Yeah, yeah, River didn’t realize girls had vaginas. Whoop-de-doo. Can we change subjects?” I say, a little scared of where another story may lead now that my mom brought out the big guns.
“Oh, you’ve got to share more. That was priceless!” Kennedy says as she wipes literal tears from the sides of her eyes.
“Oh, sweet girl, let me go get the photo album,” she says, and both my brother and I moan.
“Come on, Ma, not that. Please. Kennedy does not need to see me with my ass hanging out,” I beg, but my mother has already left the room.
“Yes, Kennedy does need to see this!” Kennedy responds, and I see the gleam in her eyes. She likes this too much.
My mom comes in holding not just one album but multiple, and I groan.
“Ma, we won’t be here that long. Please don’t tell me we’re going through all of these right now.” I move my hands through my hair.
“Oh hush, Riv. Let me have my moment,” she responds, and the smile Clay gives me is pure evil. He’s loving this too damn much.
Kennedy is moving her hands together like she’s gearing up to get all the dirt on me she possibly can. My mom is kind enough to start at the very beginning, and I decide now is the time to get up and grab a drink from the fridge.
“The boys were so cute when they were little. Even the nurse said they were beautiful from the moment they took their first breath.” My mom oozes pride as she talks about us.
“See, we couldn’t get enough photos when they were in the nursery at the hospital. They were the only boys born that day and the only twins too.” She’s pointing, and I know exactly what photos they are. We’re wrapped like burritos, and my brother and I were side by side in bassinets they had to keep together. We apparently needed to know where the other was at all times, even just hours out of the womb.
They’re flipping through photos, and Kennedy is asking questions about Clay and me. Most of the pictures they’re going through are literally just us: our first swaddle, our first bath, our first time opening our mouth. I guess that’s what new parents do—they take a shit ton of photos, especially in the first hours of life.
They’re about halfway through the pictures, and we finally get into more group settings, where my parents are holding us outside at the hospital, our first trip to the zoo, in the park, and around the neighborhood.
Kennedy is inspecting each photo, admiring the love my parents had for their two rambunctious boys.
“Did your dad have a mullet?” Kennedy suppresses a laugh, and I smile.
“Yeah, Dad rocked that thing, at least from what I remember,” I say, although my dad didn’t have that hairstyle as we got older. He grew a mustache the last few years of his life, so that’s how I always envision him. He looks completely different in the first two years of my life.
But that mullet was in full force when Clay and I were merely babies, and it really wasn’t in at that point. I guess the guys at the station said he lost a bet, and that was his punishment, but then he kept the style going just to mess with them.
My mom pulls out another album, and I’m immediately reminded that’s the one she put together right before he died. She opens it up to the first page, and it’s our birthday a few weeks before he passed.
I don’t know what photo they’re on, but Kennedy is silent, taking in the page. My mom is rambling about how my dad couldn’t get enough of the water balloons we were tossing outside in the yard. I peer over Kennedy’s shoulder and see the photo they’re inspecting is one of my brother and me aiming water balloons at him, and my dad’s pretending to be shocked in the center. The smiles we’re all wearing are big, nearly taking over our faces.
My brother and I favor our mom in appearance, but something about the way my dad carried himself seems to be the biggest legacy we have held on to. My dad lived life largely, always chasing the next adventure. I think that says a lot about the fact he died walking toward a building that breathed instability and fear. He was ready to carry out his next assignment despite the fear that many carried as they ran away from the wreckage.
My mom keeps talking, but the more she carries on, I can’t help the dread that seems to be taking over my girlfriend’s face. I can tell all the color has left her face, and she looks like she saw a ghost.
“Hey, Kennedy, you okay?” I ask, putting my hand on her shoulder.
She doesn’t move, and her body is rigid. I look down at the photo, wondering if there’s something odd in the image in front of her. Much as I expected, the picture staring back at us is the one at that birthday with my brother and me goofing off with our dad.
Like a spark has been ignited back into her, Kennedy stands abruptly and declares, “I, um, I don’t feel good. Do you mind taking me home, River?” She doesn’t even turn to look at me. She’s already moving along, her body language closed off and uncomfortable.
My brother keeps looking down at the picture and then in the direction where Kennedy walked off. Before I can register what’s happening, Kennedy comes back in, her voice laced with unease when she speaks to me, “Please, River,” and I start to move about, saying a quick goodbye.
“I’ll stay here for a bit longer,” Clay says, grabbing the photo album and inspecting it further.
“Thanks for everything, Mrs. Nichols,” Kennedy directs to my mother flatly, and it’s like she only realizes Kennedy’s odd behavior right then because my mom looks over to me with concern on her features. I shrug and wave a final goodbye before heading out the door.
Kennedy is already standing next to the passenger side door, waiting for me to unlock it.
The minute the car beeps, she shoves the door open and gets inside. I make my way to the driver’s side, trying to understand what just happened.
The drive back to Kennedy’s place is full of tense silence, filling my truck cab. Kennedy is pensive, her gaze glued to the outside of her passenger window.
The moment I park in the underground lot of her building, she’s rushing out of the truck, trying to get as far away from me as possible. She reaches the elevator, and had I not been close behind, I’m not too sure she would have held the doors for me. The ride up is just as quiet, riddled with tension, much like the ride in my car was.
As much as I want to give her space, this has gone on long enough. I’ve given her time to say something, letting me into this internal freak-out she seems to be experiencing, yet she’s getting more closed off by the second. The moment the doors open, she charges out, keys in hand, ready to get inside her home and away from me.
What the fuck is happening?
I stop the door from slamming, with Kennedy already moving through her home, putting her things down, trying to dispel the tension I see radiating off her.
I grab her shoulder, forcing her to turn toward me. “What the hell, Kennedy? What was that? What’s going on?”
It’s then I notice the tears that have started to fall down her cheeks. I’m lost and have no clue what instigated this reaction.
“What did you see at my mom’s house?” I keep throwing out questions, hoping something becomes more clear.
Her eyes look around her surroundings until she brings those bright green eyes to me. She gives a small nod, and I can’t help but feel it does little to soften the blow she’s about to throw at me.
“Your dad, he…” She moves her hands to rub her arms even though it’s a warmer day today. I wait to let her finish.
“He was the man that day,” she explains, yet I’m not following.
My expression must depict a puzzled look I can’t seem to hide.
When she doesn’t elaborate, I push further. “He was what man?” I’m still not following.
“He was the man who pulled me out of the car that day of the accident,” she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike Kennedy, I can’t seem to shake the unease that courses up my spine.
She takes a deep inhale. “He was the man—the firefighter at the scene of the crash that killed my parents.”