15. Kellen
Fifteen
Kellen
I wake up with a cramp in my calf and remember I’m wearing my night splint for the old-man foot.
After dinner last night, I was hurting something fierce.
I kept walking around the kitchen like nothing was wrong, making sure we had enough plates and spoons, helping Jake get the right soda since he had opinions on the sell-by dates.
I took a lot of pain relievers before bed and fell asleep feeling old and decrepit.
Sighing, I remove the hard plastic device and limp my way through my morning routine.
It feels strange to go to work without exercising, like I’m starting the day without breakfast. But I haven’t figured out a low-impact workout option yet, so here we are.
I’m even earlier to the office than usual and am surprised to find Orla in the kitchen staring dreamily at her coffee. “Hey, sweetheart,” I say, greeting her with a kiss. I have an urge to pat her on the head and tug on her blond ponytail, but I resist, reminding myself that she’s an adult now.
“Morning, Dad.” She smiles and starts drinking her caffeine. I rock to one foot and wince, remembering the pain in my arch too late to avoid discomfort.
“Say,” I tell her, sinking into a plastic chair in the kitchenette. “I’ve been meaning to check in with you. I was going over some of my paperwork.” She pulls up a seat at the round table nodding. “You know you’ll inherit everything—“
“Dad, Jesus. Not at work. Come on. You’re 50.”
“Yes, well, your mother was 35.” My retort jars her and she snaps her mouth shut, nodding. “Anyway, I was thinking of leaving the tools in the garage specifically to your cousin Callum. He uses them regularly and you don’t seem interested…”
I drift off as she stares at me. “Dad,” she says, setting her mug on the table. “You are not going to itemize your estate. You need to stop.”
“Preparation is a gift, Orla. This is a kindness for you.”
She shakes her head. “Having the paperwork in place is one thing. You’re a healthy man who gets his checkups regularly. You’re in perfect health.”
I want to rail back at her about my foot, about how this slow degradation of my body surely indicates the creeping arrival of the Grim Reaper, but Orla isn’t finished.
“Dad,” she says, grabbing my hands and looking into my eyes.
“I’m not just talking about itemizing. You’re not living your best life.
You’re holed up.” I shake my head. Orla nods hers.
“You are, Dad. But you know what I saw? I saw your entire face change when you were talking to your new neighbors. I saw you make that kid’s entire day better and yesterday I saw you convince him to taste sour cream on his burrito. ”
“The flavor really ties the meal together,” I mutter.
She nods. “I know it. Now Jake does, too. When’s the last time you spent time with someone new like that?
Really got to know someone?” I sigh. I feared she’d start in on me again about dating, but Orla raises a valid point.
“Those film nerds you talk about are all on a chat group online,” she says.
“You could totally be getting together in person for that hobby, but you’re not.
” She sips her coffee and I stare at her.
“If you want me to be ok with you giving Cal the tools, then I want you to promise to start doing more social things outside the family.”
I snort a laugh. “What a firecracker you are. Who raised you?”
She winks at me. “A guy who was dealt some bad cards and coasted on fumes for a lot of years.”
“You’re mixing metaphors, darling.”
She stands and puts her empty mug in the dishwasher.
“Yeah, well, you’re festering away.” She plants a kiss on my forehead before I can come up with a retort and makes her way to her work space.
I try to focus on my projects. Liam and I have meetings coming up to pitch inspection services to a few different power companies.
These are warm calls. My brother already went out there and wined and dined them.
He’s the one with all the pop culture knowledge, who can strike up friendly conversation.
I go in and talk about technical details.
I can do that with half a mind. Have been for years, with barely any small-talk before or after.
It bothers me that I think Orla’s right about the social aspect of my life.
I’ve been very focused on my family for…
a very long time. I haven’t felt lonely.
There’s too many Bradys in my business—literally at my work place.
I chuckle at the thought of loneliness. Glancing at my calendar for today, I see I’m in meetings straight through for hours.
No, I’m not lonely. But Orla’s right about one thing.
I’m not social. And she’s also right that I enjoy getting to know Jake.
I swallow, remembering my time in the shower this morning where I yet again played out fantasies with Elizabeth.
The room heats up as I recall how savagely I touched myself, thinking about the scent of her in my car the other day.
She and I haven’t had any real conversations, not privately.
She’s been to dinner with my entire family and I’ve taught her son to mow the lawn, but apart from that car ride I haven’t sat and talked to her.
It seems disrespectful to use her in my fantasies and not at least take her out to dinner. Maybe Orla’s onto something.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up my cell and call Beth. She answers breathlessly, like she’s just been struggling with something. I look at the time. “Oh, crap. Are you driving Jake to school?”
“No, no,” she huffs. “I walked him to the bus stop this morning.” I hear the mismatched clunk of her walking cast as she thunks back home.
“Should you be doing that? With your foot?”
“What can I do for you, Kellen,” she counters, an edge to her voice.
I close my eyes and swallow. “I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me this weekend.” There’s silence on the other end of the call. I worry it got disconnected until I hear the throttle of a motorcycle passing near her. “Beth?”
“I…um, yes.”
“Yes?”
“I guess you can’t see me nodding, can you.” She laughs. “I am interested in having dinner with you, but I’m concerned that Jake’s father won’t show up.”
I don’t want to reveal the sinking disappointment I feel at this reminder that, though we are both adults, we are not both independent in the same way. “Well,” I respond. “If that happens, why don’t the three of us eat together.”
“Are you sure? Jake is very particular about his Friday night routine.”
“I like spending time with you both,” I say, truthfully. “But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t prefer to have you to myself.”
I hear a quick intake of breath as Elizabeth gasps, and I worry I’ve said something inappropriate. I hear the sound of her unlocking her door, clunking inside with her boot. “Well,” she says. “See you Friday? Maybe I can text you whether Todd shows up?”
“I could just watch from inside my window.”
“Right. And that’s not creepy at all, Kellen.”
I chuckle, knowing of course I’m going to watch her driveway from my window. Who could help but do so? “I’ll see you around the neighborhood,” I tell her. As I hang up, I think I hear her sigh contentedly.