Chapter 34
Andi
By Wednesday I have to get out of the house. I’ve been working from home; Kev and I had agreed we’d go to the shelter together our first time back, after he’s had a few more days to heal physically. We’ll drive over together and take it slow, from the parking lot to the street to the sidewalk to the lobby. Talk ourselves and each other through it each step of the way.
We’ve got an appointment next week to see a trauma counselor in Asheville. We want to see someone till we’re sure we’re handling everything okay, and we agree it shouldn’t be anybody from Galway where almost everyone knows one or the other of us. And it would be questionable ethics-wise for the shelter therapists to work with either the center director or a volunteer, even if they didn’t already have their hands full.
I’ve been checking in a few times a day by phone and they reassure me everything’s going fine, so I have no good reason to break my promise to Kev by going to the shelter without him. But his family filled the cottage to overflowing from late morning till after supper Monday and yesterday both, and they’re coming back today, and I’ve been dreading it since they left last night.
Mrs. Mahoney—Amy, dammit—and I have been doing an awkward, odd little dance around each other, extra polite, extra solicitous, while everybody else pretends nothing is wrong.
I can’t stand one more second of it. Or of Kevin ignoring it.
I mean, it’s not like she’s an ogre. She’s done her absolute best to be a good guest and to make sure the rest of her family is too. Every day she mentions how wonderful my friends have been. She’s not said anything that wasn’t kind to or about me or anyone else—nothing passive-aggressive, nothing I can object to at all, really. It’s just…she’s a mom, an observant, caring mom who has a lot of experience seeing to her family and trying to give them whatever she thinks is best. And she’s got her mind set that marriage is best in this situation.
If it were just me, I could handle this. She wouldn’t seem like much of a problem at all.
I’m afraid the real problem is Kevin. I feel squirmy and disloyal and awful even considering it, but there it is.
It’s like he has no boundaries, no sense of where his family’s wishes end and his own adult decisions begin. He’s not dependent on them and not immature, so I don’t really understand what the issue is.
It plagues me all the way into town Wednesday morning.
Have I ever noticed him having this problem, this boundarylessness, before? He’s a leader to the high school kids, and to the shelter kids. My friends like him a lot, and from the sounds of it, so do his fellow teachers and Tisha. With everyone else he seems easygoing, sure, but not a pushover. So why does this family thing seem like such a red flag?
I head toward the square, figuring I’ll see if July will let me work upstairs in her apartment today. That reminds me of how Kevin keeps changing his mind, every time he tries another of her foods, about which one is his favorite—and then it hits me.
Those little “arguments.” Those silly, little mostly joking pronouncements he makes about his preferences when he’s trying to goad me into a disagreement over some goofy, doesn’t-matter thing… Those aren’t just him playing around. They’re practice. I…maybe…have never really argued with anybody , he’d said.
He was trying to learn to stand firm in the face of opposition. To voice his opinion and stand by it.
The very thing he’s struggling with now.
Because he wants to be his own person. He wants to stand up. He just doesn’t seem to know how.
I don’t know what caused him to have such a hard time with it—his family shows no sign of being bullies or abusive—but he’s genuinely struggling. The stricken, almost-nauseous look on his face during that fraught conversation with his mom… His silence, then and later when I’d asked about the possibility of him telling them to back off… His desire to comfort me and keep me happy afterward, even as he didn’t want to make his mom unhappy by opposing her… He’s not sure how to balance love with assertiveness.
And he needs to figure it out. Quickly.
Because if he and Lil Bit and I are going to have a chance as a real, happy family unit, he needs to learn this. I can’t be the only one recognizing and protecting our boundaries.
I park on the street and walk the block to July’s on the square. Breakfast rush is tapering off when I push through the door. Sonya’s at the booth the staff uses for breaks, a fistful of bright-colored markers in one hand, her lip caught between her teeth as she pretties up the Today’s Lunch and Dinner Specials board.
July’s sister, Jen, has just slid out of the booth, baby in her arms. We smile at each other as she says to Sonya, “Thanks for the lead. I’ll go to the B and B now, see if Sabina needs help today.” With a wave, she’s gone.
“Nice.” I nod to the cornucopia Sonya’s drawn, bright fruits and veggies and flowers spilling out of it.
“Thanks, Andi. How you doing? How’s Kevin? Can you sit with me?” Her smile is bright and quick, her voice sweet and breathy.
Every time I see her, I want to kill the monstrous ex who brought her to town, abused her one too many times, and then dumped her here like she was trash. Asshole changed his mind and tried to come back and force her to leave with him, but July—thank god—stopped him. That story has become part of town lore.
But to the sweet, soft young woman across from me, it’s all too real, and I worry she’ll never fully get over what life dealt her.
“I’m fine, Sonya, thanks. Kevin’s okay too. Sore, but healing. His whole family’s at my place with him now.” I’d made him text me the minute they pulled up, because as much as I needed to get away, I didn’t want him alone for long. “Thank you for donating blood.”
Sonya shakes her head, gazing at me, her big blue eyes welling with tears. “I am so glad y’all are okay.”
I no sooner say, “Me too,” than people begin to gather around the booth, asking questions and wishing us well, everybody finding a way to work in a story about some sweet thing they’d heard Kevin had done for the high school kids. Some of them drop in a sly comment with a glance at my stomach.
I’ve known this was coming ever since the day of the attack. I hope it wasn’t someone at the ER breaking a HIPAA privacy rule, but between them and the shelter folks and first responders who all learned I was pregnant that day, I’ll probably never know who told.
Turns out it’s not as bad as I feared. I get a few veiled “I didn’t even think you liked men” comments and questions, but most people seem to be genuinely glad we’re okay.
Still, it’s a relief when they drift away, waving goodbyes and telling me to tell Kevin to get well soon. I turn back to Sonya. “July swamped back there?”
“Nah, Donna took over when things started to slow down so July could take a tray up and eat with Joe. She said he’s got stuff spread all over the dining room table up there, working on some big project for one of his classes. Said she was afraid he’d forget to eat if she didn’t remind him.”
Oh, they’ll eat, all right. Among other things. Those two in the same space are like matches and kindling.
Guess that’s a big No to me working up there today. I have to stifle a smile so Sonya doesn’t ask what I’m thinking.
She’s not even looking at me, though. “Gah! No! Not there, not there, not there… Gahh.” Her frown is so fierce I turn to see what she’s staring at, but it’s just some guy, sliding into a booth over in the far corner. A perfectly ordinary-looking white guy. Medium height, medium build, receding brown hair, drab clothes…
“What’s up? That somebody you know?” I don’t recognize him.
“No, not really,” she mutters, jamming the cap back on the marker she’d been using. “He’s just some jerk who always ends up sitting in my section, even though we hate each other’s guts.”
“He give you trouble?” If so, July should hear about it.
Sonya sighs. “No. I just…don’t like him.”
Verrry interesting. I’ve never known her to get irritated or be less than sweet to anyone. But before I can find out more, she changes the subject. “Andi, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I might regret saying that—Sonya’s a little wacky sometimes—but I can always refuse to answer. Because I am damn good with boundaries.
“How—How did you and July get so brave? Have you always been like that, or did you have to learn it? And if you had to learn it, can you tell me how?” Her brow furrows, marring her normally porcelain-smooth skin. I can feel her concentration from across the table.
“I…don’t know if I’d call us brave, exactly…” This is tricky. This is obviously important to her, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing and cause harm. “I think it’s more just…doing what needs to be done at the moment.”
She works her jaw, still frowning, still studying me. “But don’t you ever, like, freeze ? Or just not know what needs to be done?”
Not so far, no, thank god. But. “I’m going to tell you something in confidence, okay? Please don’t talk about it with anybody.”
She nods so fast I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m about to share some great secret to life.
“When that guy attacked me on that sidewalk, I didn’t know he had a gun.”
Sonya’s eyes widen but she stays silent.
“I don’t know what I would have done if I had known.” I shrug, my shoulders stiff and heavy with dread as I relive the attack. “I might have frozen if I’d known. Because that would have tilted the power balance, right? I thought I had a fighting chance against him when I didn’t know he was armed. But…I’m pregnant now, and between that and the unfair advantage a gun gave him…I just don’t know.”
Sonya’s blue eyes are fixed on me but I’m pretty sure she’s seeing something in her past.
“So…we do the best we can manage in the moment, I guess. Sometimes we have regrets later…but sometimes we get lucky. I think the best we can do is just try to learn from everything.” I pluck a menu off the table behind me and pray Kevin and Lil Bit and I never have to face such a situation again.
***
Kevin
It’s looking like I might make it through this week, but I’m not sure I deserve to.
July had told us all to show up around noon. Of course everyone insisted she let them bring something, so my family spent the morning using the kitchens at my place and Joe’s, and Andi was bustling around the one here at the cottage. I propped my leg up on one of the dining chairs and made her bring me stuff to chop and dice and mince. She was practically dancing around, singing and humming, and I know it was because we had the place to ourselves again. She never made a single complaint about my family this week, but I know the lack of private space has taken a toll on her.
Just before we walk out the door to the garage—where Andi already has our dinner contributions stashed in her trunk, because my useless ass isn’t allowed to carry anything—she pauses, turns, and wraps her arms around my waist. “Thank you for diving at that guy to save me and Lil Bit.”
I’m only too happy to let my arms come around her. To kiss her temple and nuzzle her hair. “Anytime, Andi.” And I mean it.
She leans back to look in my eyes. “You know I have faith in you, right?”
What? “I…”
She raises an elegant finger. Traces my eyebrow so gently I can barely feel it. “I see you, struggling with things that are hard for you. I have faith in you.”
This is the closest she’s come to mentioning the tension with my mom. And my failure to deal with it. I’m not exactly sure what she’s saying, but she’s saying it with love. And I feel a little like crying.
She stands on tiptoe, presses a kiss to my mouth, squeezes my ass, and then goes into the garage, leaving the door open for my bemused self to follow.
The square is quiet, with everything closed for the holiday, so we’re able to get a close parking space. Decent hobbling distance.
My family is already at the restaurant, along with people July introduces as her parents, her brother, Brendan, and their sister, Jen, who’s there with her husband and baby. Rose and Angus are standing near the kitchen doorway talking to Joe.
July has arranged tables and chairs in a long curve, leading from a booth on one side almost to the other side of the room, leaving space for people to cut through to get to the kitchen and bathrooms. The big dessert case is full of every kind of sweet in the world and the countertop above it is loaded with side dishes.
“Here, Uncle Kev! This space is for you!” CeCe waves me to the booth. “You can sit sideways and see everything and keep your leg propped up on the bench.”
I settle in, feeling useless as usual lately when I see Andi grab CeCe to go out to the car with her to get the rest of the food we brought. As if she’s equipped with radar, Mom glances up from where she’s fiddling with a covered dish, sees me alone, and heads my way.
Thank god Joe beats her over here. He hands me a glass of tea and then makes pleasant small talk with her until my younger sister, Cathy, calls her over to settle a disagreement she’s having with my older sister, Pam.
I have the distinct feeling that Cathy did that because she knew I needed rescuing.
Despite all the wonderful smells of all the wonderful foods here, my appetite disappears. Here I am, a grown man who can’t walk worth a damn or carry anything heavier than a toothbrush or make love to his woman, and I need to be rescued right and left from conversation with my own mother.
CeCe’s little brothers slide into the booth across from me, and I try to take part in their conversation. Seems like everyone is in high spirits, getting along with folks they just met and folks they already love, looking forward to a delicious meal in cheery company. Laughter and conversation rise and fall around the room. Finally July calls for everyone to come fix their plates and a long, happy line forms. I stay put, figuring I’m less likely to be bumped if I let the traffic clear out a little.
So of course Andi brings me an enormous plate of food. Brings it right to me with silverware and a smile, like I’m a little child.
Goddammit.
And she’s paid close enough attention these past few months to know exactly what I would have put on my own plate. Just like a mom knows her kid.
I watch glumly as she gets back in line for her own food, glowing and sparkling and charming people the way she always does.
She’s amazing. She’s been amazing every second of every day since I’ve known her, and probably every second of every day of her life leading up to that point.
What the fuck is she doing with a guy like me?
Finally she’s back, sliding in across from me in the spot my nephews vacated, CeCe beside her. July clinks a spoon on her glass to get everyone’s attention and then welcomes us all and invites people to take turns giving toasts, offering grace, saying something they’re grateful for…
Then she sits and Joe wraps an arm around her and whispers in her ear. She gives him the purest, warmest smile I’ve ever seen, and I see her parents watching them, smiling and giving each other a small, silent fist bump. They know their daughter got lucky with her choice of a man.
I can’t help but wonder what Andi’s Gram would think of me.
I can’t help but think she’d be disappointed. And she’d be right.
July’s mom goes next, giving thanks for this chance to be here with her husband and kids and beloved new grandbaby. One of my grandmas toasts July and Joe and “all of Kevin and Andi’s wonderful friends” who have made them so welcome and made this occasion so special. Then my mom opens her mouth and starts to rise, and I see my sister Cathy turn to look at me, stricken, as if to say, “I’m sorry, I can’t help this time, big brother.”
And in a flash I remember that terrible time when Cathy was a tiny, premature, and very, very sick newborn, and my folks, who already had three kids including a spoiled-rotten four-year-old named Kevin, everybody’s baby and darling up to that moment. One terrible day of stress and strain in a long string of them, and that little boy broke. I threw a tantrum. Yelled, “Somebody. Pay. Attention. To me !” And my beloved, exhausted, sleep-starved, and scared-out-of-her-mind-for-her-fragile-new-baby mom burst into tears. And my big, calm, gentle dad bellowed, “Kevin, go to your room! You’re making things worse!” And my big sister and brother dragged me out of the room, shushing me the whole way. Because speaking up, and showing displeasure, can get you banished.
And that’s the last time I ever remember demanding anything for myself or doing anything I knew would upset my family.
Somehow, sickly little baby Cathy got stronger and grew up into a compassionate young woman who wants to save me from normal grown-up challenges.
But I’ve grown up too. I’m not a spoiled little kid who doesn’t understand what’s going on anymore. I’m a grown man with a wonderful partner and a baby on the way, and I’ve been feeling sorry for myself instead of shouldering my responsibilities.
This time, I’ve been making things worse by not speaking up.
And the next thing I know, I’m most of the way out of the booth, weight on my good leg, raising my glass and my voice as if I hadn’t noticed Mom about to speak. Not sure what words I’m going to use, but they’re piling up in my brain and my heart, trying to jostle their way out. And I say, “Not to make a contest out of this or anything, but”—that gets some laughs—“I feel like the luckiest person on the planet. I’m so grateful that Andi and I are alive and well, and that Lil Bit seems to be doing just fine in there too. And I’m so lucky to have a big, loving family that would drop everything and come at a moment’s notice when I needed them.”
I pause just long enough to suck in the breath and the courage I need for this next part, and then I face my folks. Look my mom in the eye. “And I feel so blessed to have had parents who raised us to think for ourselves and to always try to do the right thing, so that as adults my sisters and brother and I would be able to find wonderful partners to help us make our next decisions. Mom, Dad, thank you so much. I will always love and respect you more than you will ever know.”
I’m almost out of steam, but I turn to look across the table at Andi. “And Andi, you are the love of my life, and meeting you was my luckiest day so far, in a life full of lucky days. I’m not sure what exact shape our future will take, but I look forward to being your partner and figuring things out together, for ourselves and our baby.” I see her wobbly smile and the tears welling up in her dark eyes, and it’s all I can do to finish with a “Love you all. Thanks for everything,” before my throat becomes too clogged for words to pass.
I sink into my seat, hearing people actually applaud and realizing that I forgot to thank Andi’s friends, and then I realize that Andi is on her feet speaking as soon as the clapping dies down.
“I just want to follow up on that really quick to say thank you so much to all of you who have helped us this week, and especially to Amy and Trey for raising a son who would never shirk his responsibilities. Y’all don’t know this, but the day we found out I was pregnant, Kevin asked me to marry him. No, no, hold on—We’re not engaged. He proposed, and then we had a long conversation about what would really be best. We realized that we needed to take more time and think things through, and that’s what we’re doing. He’s the best guy I’ve ever known. I’m thrilled and lucky to have him call me ‘partner,’ and I believe with my whole heart that this baby”—her hand is back on her stomach—“could not possibly have a better daddy than Kevin. Love y’all.”
Half an hour later, Andi and I are still looking in each other’s eyes and feeding each other choice bits of food across the table. CeCe got sick of us, rolled her eyes and moved to sit with her cousin several minutes ago.
Andi lifts a bit of cider-braised turkey thigh—we’re going to have to get The Sioux Chef cookbook—to my lips. “You are so dang cool, Mahoney.”
I am feeling mighty good, it’s true. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“You don’t remember waking up in your room at the hospital, do you?” She gives me a smile that makes me wish we were sitting on the same side of this damn booth and that I didn’t have to elevate my damn leg.
“Not really, no…”
We’re interrupted by my parents, who somehow made it all the way to the table without me noticing. “You two lovebirds.” Mom shakes her head, but she’s smiling.
Neither Andi nor I contradict her. And my panic of the last few days seems to have evaporated. “Hey, Mom. What did you think of this turkey and the other dishes?”
“I think they’re wonderful. I might drop a hint for your dad to buy me that cookbook for Christmas…”
He smiles down on her and we all know he’ll do just that.
“I just wanted to say…message received earlier. You’re right. You two know what’s best for yourselves, and I need to make myself okay with whatever you decide.” Mom presses my arm and then turns to Andi. “And, Andi, your message was received too. Thanks for letting me know.”
They stand and talk with us for a few minutes and I’ve never felt so free to offer up my thoughts and opinions. And they seem fine with every single one of them. Despite four-year-old Kev’s fearful conclusions, the world doesn’t end when you speak up.
Especially when you have a partner who looks at you like you’re a hero and who feeds you snippets of food from her own plate, just to have the excuse to touch you. Yeah, I know that’s what she’s doing, because I’m doing the same to her.