Chapter 23
KENDALL
The bright lights in the grocery store almost burn my eyes. I stare at a carton of strawberries, inspecting them for a full minute, then pick up another carton. They look the same. Why is this decision so hard?
It’s the day after my conversation with Grant. I’m raw, scraped out, tender.
I miss him already, somehow. I want to hear his voice. I want to bask in his attention, to give him my own. In the glare of the day, it’s hard to feel like I made the right decision.
I startle when my phone chimes.
Unknown Number
this is Theresa. Your daddy’s friend. He broke his phone in the wreck, but he was adamant I text you. Sorry to bother you
I stop just as I turn into the cereal aisle. What the hell? What wreck?
Me
He was in a wreck? Is he okay?
Unknown number
Yes, day before yesterday. Busted up his femur and had to have surgery. He’s at the hospital in Lexington.
Someone slips around me, and I mutter a dazed apology since I’m standing in the middle of the aisle without moving. The wreck must have happened on the day we were supposed to meet. For once in my life, my dad really didn’t stand me up.
Me
How long’s he supposed to be there?
Unknown number
another day or so, then rehab most likely.
I clap a hand over my mouth. This is awful news, and he’s going to have a long recovery ahead of him. He’ll have to take time off from his job. Time he likely can’t afford.
I also don’t know how to deal with this sort of thing when it comes to him. If it were Mom, I would drop everything and go to her. My tenuous new relationship with Dad makes this whole thing feel awkward.
Then again, if the situation were reversed, he would come to me.
I’ve been thinking back to my childhood lately.
My parents divorced when I was in elementary school, and Dad was in and out of our lives after that like a traveler.
He sent money sometimes. When Blaine had his accident in high school, though, Dad did come back to Kentucky right away.
He spent a few weeks on Mom’s couch, though he and Mom nearly bit each other’s heads off.
He left again when we were settled, claiming he would send money to help us, and though he didn’t always keep that promise, he did seem heartbroken that Blaine was hurt.
Maybe that’s why Blaine carries so much animosity toward him—all the sudden Dad tried to play the role of a caring parent, when he’d been absent so much.
I’ve come to think of him as a deeply flawed man with whom I can have some contact here and there in some limited form, especially since it seems to mean a lot to him now. I’m not sure what’s changed, but him fretting over standing me up is new behavior for him.
I come to a decision, then make a couple of phone calls.
It’s late in the afternoon by the time I make it to Lexington. I turn toward a voice calling my name in the hospital lobby.
“Blaine? I didn’t think you’d come. I only thought you’d want to know about it.”
He pushes over to where I’m standing. “I don’t want much to do with him, but I did want to make sure he’s not, like, at death’s door or anything.” He looks down at his feet.
“I understand. I’m glad you’re here.”
I’m shocked, is what I am. I don’t say much more about it, though. We make our way to the unit where our father is admitted. He’s alone when we get there.
He turns a groggy gaze on me when I enter, then smiles. His mouth drops when he sees Blaine behind me.
“Son,” he says, swallowing.
Blaine nods at him. “Hello.”
My dad’s face pales under his graying beard as he stares at Blaine, who shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
I feel like I’m intruding, like I’m witnessing a reunion I shouldn’t be part of.
I don’t remember my own reconnection with our dad being this dramatic.
It seems strange, given they’ve likely seen each other around town here and there, but this must be the first time Blaine has spent any voluntary time with the man in nearly a decade.
“How are you feeling?” I step toward the edge of his hospital bed. Dad’s still staring at Blaine like he’s a ghost, but he breaks away to look at me when I touch his arm.
“I’m hurting,” he says with a shrug. “But they’ve taken real good care of me here. Real good.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
I study him, cataloging his state. The space around his eye shows a faint bruise, like he hit it against something in the accident.
His leg is under his blankets, but I see the bulk where he’s got on some kind of immobilizing device.
His hair is a little unkempt, but otherwise he looks like the same hale, imposing man I’ve always known.
“What happened?” I pull his attention back to me again. Blaine is still behind me, clearing his throat occasionally.
“Wasn’t my fault,” Dad starts.
Blaine snorts.
“It really wasn’t,” Dad says. “Somebody T-boned me at an intersection. Smashed up the driver’s side of my car like a tin can. Surprised it didn’t kill me.”
“You had your seatbelt on?” Blaine finally chimes in now.
“Yep. Probably saved me.” He smiles at Blaine. “It was a terrible fright, but I’m glad it brought you here. Maybe I ought to almost die more often.”
Blaine looks away.
“It’s okay, Son.” Dad sits up a little, wincing as he does so. “How have you been?”
Blaine sighs. “I’m okay.” He smiles. “Great, actually. Gloria, my wife, is pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
The air in the room stills. Even the noise out in the hallway seems to quiet.
“Oh?” Dad’s voice is small.
“Yep.”
“Oh. Well that’s wonderful news.” His eyes shine. “I’m real happy for you.”
He looks like he might be on the verge of tears, and he turns his head toward the window. What’s he thinking? Are his regrets weighing on him? Does he wish things were different?
We chat for longer. I offer to go get him food, and he declines. Before we leave, Blaine shakes Dad’s hand, and it looks like Dad might cry again.
Blaine and I are quiet in the elevator. We have some distance to go to get to the parking garage, crossing a pedway and taking an elevator to get to our vehicles.
“You want a push?” I start to move behind him.
He drops his hands. “Yeah, actually. That would be great.”
“Are you okay?” I touch his shoulder as we go.
“I want to hate him,” he says. He turns to look at me. “Do you really think he’s changed?”
“I think he’s trying now,” I say. “He knows he wasn’t around enough for us.”
“I’m not ready to forgive him,” Blaine says, his voice tight. “But maybe I can see him now and then, too.”
“Whatever you want to do is okay, Blaine. For me, I’ve been okay with small doses. But you aren’t obligated to make nice with someone who hurt you.”
We’re walking through the pedway now. The windows reveal the busy streets below.
Lexington is the other big city in Kentucky, located in between Louisville, where I live now, and my hometown.
Rolling hills stretch out in the distance.
Dusk is falling now, and the bridge we’re on looks out over some twinkling lights. A car honks.
“I’m sorry I got mad at you,” Blaine says quietly. “I just worry about someone hurting you again.” He looks down at his lap as we reach an elevator. “Are you still talking to Grant?”
My breath hitches. I’m shocked at the pain the slices through me. “I broke things off with him,” I say.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I mean, yeah.” My voice breaks.
He eyes me again. “Wait. Are you okay? Did you have something serious with him or something?”
I shrug. “It can’t work out long term.”
“Why the hell not?”
I almost trip over my own feet. What is he talking about? He acted like he would never get over it if I got together with Grant. Now he’s behaving as though he’s upset about it being over.
“Uh, need I remind you of why you yelled at me? You said you wouldn’t have anything to do with him if I brought him around.” I position him next to his vehicle in the parking garage.
He props his forearm against his car. “I was wrong to say that. Gloria clued me in, but I would have come to that conclusion myself.” He swallows. “If you like him, then I trust your judgment.”
He opens his door so he can transfer into the car.
“Well, this is a one-eighty,” I say. A cold wind whips through the garage and I shiver. “But you weren’t the only reason I can’t stay with him.”
My heart fractures even more. I tug on the ends of my sweatshirt just to have something to do with my hands.
Blaine grips my arm. “I’m serious,” he says. “I’ll support you.”
My mouth stretches into a smile despite the ache in my chest. “Thanks, Blaine.”
This conversation is happening too late, though, and I’ve already made my decision.
It still feels like the right one even though it hurts like a first heartbreak.
And maybe it is, honestly. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this raw before, not even when a college boyfriend I really liked told me he couldn’t be “too tied down.” I’d been disappointed then. What I am now is utterly devastated.
I have to believe time will help. It’s been the cure for everything else.
Joan proposes a toast at our Saturday brunch. She sweeps a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder and raises her mimosa.
“To Kendall,” she says. “Our future physician, and one of the best damn women I know.”
I blink a few times. I raise my glass as my friends congratulate me.
I have a standing brunch date with my friends about once a month.
It’s cold today so we’re dining indoors at a place in the city, though the sun shines and the air is dry.
I can see the blue sky out the window next to us.
My coffee drink is flavored with some kind of sweet caramel apple concoction.
I’m wearing my favorite earrings and a new pair of tennis shoes, along with a new purple sweater I got yesterday, but none of it makes me feel any better.
My chest aches. I wake up in the middle of the night now with a pulsing sense of wrongness, only to remember what happened, and to chastise myself for being so pathetic.
Grant hasn’t called or texted either, not that I expected him to. He told me he was falling in love with me, and I made it clear I still can’t be with him, so who can blame him for staying away?
Or maybe he didn’t mean any of it. In my darkest moments, I wonder if any of it was real.
I fiddle with one of my earrings and return my focus to my friends. “Now I just need to find a couple hundred thousand dollars,” I say. “If anyone wants to help out with that.”
“How’s the scholarship hunt going?” Gwen dribbles a bit of syrup on her shirt as she takes a bite of her pancake.
“I think we need to get you a bib,” I tell her, and she grins at me. “But I’m getting there. I’ve found some specifically for students going back to school.”
Maria settles her napkin over her lap, as though seeing Gwen eat so messily makes her anxious. “I’m so happy for you,” she says. “I know you’ll figure it out.”
To my great embarrassment, tears build in my eyes. Damn it. I’d thought my tear ducts were empty. I’ve never cried in front of my friends, either.
“Kendall?” Joan raises up out of her chair. Her eyes are wide.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but tears stream down my cheeks. I cover my mouth to stifle my crying, but it only makes it worse.
Everyone is staring at me. Oh God.
“I think I need talk to you guys,” I say.
“Of course.” Joan lays a hand over mine, and I settle a bit. She’s so soothing. No wonder she’s a good nurse. I clutch at her.
I tell them the whole story. Everything about Grant, about Blaine, and my dad. About Grant’s parents. The whole sorry affair spills out of me in bursts.
Joan gets up to hug me. I cling to her like I’m a little kid as she murmurs calming words. When she sits back down, she has transitioned from her active listening face to her guidance face. She’s the group’s best advice-giver, and I hold my breath while I wait for her to speak.
“You’re stubborn sometimes, you know?” She smiles.
So we’re going with tough love, I see. I laugh. “You have no idea,” I say.
“I think I do,” Joan says. “But none of us would have judged you for what you did. Or whatever you decide to do now. Your former self doesn’t get to make all your decisions for you.”
I wipe another tear away. “My former self is screaming at me continuously, yelling ‘you’re in danger’ over and over.”
Gwen wipes a biscuit crumb off her shirt. “I cannot believe you managed to keep all this secret. I mean this in the best way possible, but you are the least private person I’ve ever met.”
I chew on my lip. I did keep this from everyone. My shame has been overwhelming. “I did tell one of you.” I nod toward Maria, who gives me a little nod.
Gwen laughs and glances at Maria. “Apparently you’re our group vault.”
“I hated myself for getting involved with him,” I say.
Maria’s gaze softens on me.
“And now?” Joan folds her hands in her lap. “Does it still feel bad?”
I shake my head. “I made peace with it.” I toy with the hem of my sweater. “It hurts that it’s over, though. I can’t think about anything else. I can’t sleep. My body aches. It’s horrible.”
“For God’s sake,” Gwen says. “If you miss him that much, just go be with him.”
The clink of cutlery on plates echoes around us, and conversations carry on, but our table quiets as everyone looks at me.
“He hurt me so much,” I say softly, “when we were teenagers. I don’t know if I can get over it. It’s been such a struggle. Like, what if that part of him is still in there somewhere? If he could do that before, what’s stopping him from becoming that again?”
Joan runs her fingers through her blonde hair. She tilts her head. “That’s a valid concern. But I don’t think you would have fallen for him if he was a bad person. You don’t tolerate any bullshit.”
“What do you mean, I fell for him?”
“Kendall.” Gwen leans forward and almost knocks over her orange juice. Maria steadies her glass for her. “You love this man.”
Oh, God. I cover my face with my hands. Slivers of sunlight from the window shine through my fingers. Another tear slips out.
She’s right. Of course she is. I haven’t allowed myself the room to accept it, but I can’t deny it, and it’s obvious to everyone but me. I want him. I care about him.
I always go after what I want. Take no prisoners and all that. And now I’m being a coward, like Grant said. I just can’t let go of my hang ups. I hold them near me like little poisonous jewels.
“You should grab happiness when you can,” Maria says. “If he really has changed, I mean. If you still want to hate him, I support that too. But if he’s good to you, and you care about him, I think it’s okay to let it happen.”
“And if it’s a big mistake?” I lower my hands.
“Then we’ll go back to hating him with you.” Gwen shrugs. “I have absolutely no qualms about that.”
I laugh again. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but my eyes feel drier now. “You ladies.” I shake my head. “You’re the fucking best.”