Chapter 12
KENDALL
My dad hugs me on the sidewalk outside the place we just had lunch.
“Tell your brother I said hello,” he says. Like my brother, he’s a big, bearded dude. He almost sounds shy now. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to admit that Blaine’s wife is pregnant, that he’s going to be a grandfather. That feels cruel, though, especially since Blaine doesn’t speak to him.
“I will,” I say instead.
We each look away. I’m not even sure why I’m doing this.
At this point, my memoir would be titled, My Life With Shitty Men: A Story of Second, Third, and Fourth Chances.
But it’s clear he’s really trying here. He drove to Louisville and he’ll drive back today, literally six hours of travel.
He braved traffic, which he loathes, just to see me.
I haven’t really forgiven him for being a deadbeat much of my life, but I’m getting a tiny bit closer to making some amends. The anger I’ve harbored sometimes feels like it could consume me, and letting go of it is a little cathartic.
I wonder, sometimes, if I could forgive Grant too. I have to work with him for several more weeks, and it saps a lot of energy, hanging onto this hatred the way I am.
“I’m sure glad you’re doing well,” my dad says. “I can’t believe I might have a kid who’ll be a doctor.”
“Ah. Well, I’ve got a long way to go,” I say. I drag my foot along a crack in the sidewalk. I’m still not looking at him. I’m really bad at feelings and shit. “I haven’t got an acceptance letter.”
“Well, still. It’s amazing you’ve gotten this far. No thanks to me.”
I make a noncommittal noise.
“Well, goodbye again. I hope I see you soon.”
I wave to him before I head to my car. I sit in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.
I want to talk to someone. Blaine’s out—he doesn’t want to hear about me seeing our dad. My friends understand a little, but none of them grew up where I did. It’s not quite the same. I scroll through my contacts and find my finger hovering over a name. Am I going to do this?
Screw it.
Me
I know I told you to leave me the fuck alone
It takes a full two minutes, but Grant replies.
Grant
Ah. We’re going on another fun ride, I see
Me
I’m sorry I’m hot and cold. You’ll have to bear with me.
I startle when my phone rings. I stare at it. My palms begin to sweat.
“Hello?” My voice comes out breathy and I clear my throat.
“I thought you weren’t going to answer.”
“I almost didn’t.” I cough again. “I didn’t want to.”
He laughs. The sound is rich, deep, like honey poured over river rocks. “Sometimes I can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth.” He’s typing something in the background as he talks. “I thought this would be easier since I’m documenting. What can I do for you?”
“Do you remember that time you finally made me cry? When you asked if my dad didn’t like me?”
He’s quiet.
“I can’t believe you didn’t just punch me in the face the first time you saw me again.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I seriously thought about it.” I inhale. “I’m talking to him again. My dad. Do you remember what everyone thought about him?”
“Kendall, I don’t think—”
“It’s okay. Just say it.”
He sighs. “Well he abandoned you, didn’t he? What do you think we all said?”
“And did you really think it was my fault?”
“Of course not.” He stops whatever he’s doing. “No.”
“And if I asked you if you think someone like that can change?”
He pauses again. “It’s possible. But I’d tell you to be careful, I guess.”
“Yeah. Well.” I lean my head against my steering wheel.
“Touché.”
“I gotta go,” I say. “But I appreciate your insight.”
“Kendall.”
“It’s okay. You gave me what I needed there. I’ll see you at work this week.”
I hang up the phone and rest my forearm over my eyes. What the hell am I doing?