21. Kendra
Kendra
Exactly three people have ever seen my tattoos, yes, plural. Keller, obviously, my nana, who cried with me when I showed her shortly before she passed, and Lainey, who also cried with me when she saw and I told her the story.
It didn’t surprise me when the guys called and Eli didn’t believe that I let Keller tattoo me.
He knows that I am deeply terrified of needles.
What he doesn’t know is that the fear came from a childhood spent watching my mom go through years of treatments, constantly being poked and prodded.
She never complained, was a pillar of strength, letting the doctors and nurses give and take whatever they needed from her, but it made me feel unsettled in my own skin.
Like they might reach for me next, and I would be unable to escape them poking my easily bruised skin.
“Rem didn’t want his own big bash again this year?” I ask Lainey as we help Sutton set up Kinsley’s first birthday party in Sutton’s backyard.
Last year Lainey gave Rem a huge surprise party the day before his actual birthday, pretending it was a housewarming party for her moving in with him—Sutton went into labor at the party, water breaking in the backyard. Kinsley was born the next day, sharing her birthday with her Uncle Rem.
“No, he was happy to have the focus be on Kins, of course. The only thing he wanted was for me to make him my apple pie. So, Sutton decided to make the theme for the party ‘apple of my eye’ . . . He gets his apple pie and we get cute decorations.” She shakes the little banner mixed with red, plaid, burlap, and gingham ribbons she is about to tie to Kinsley’s high chair.
“Did you see the little green apple smash cake?” Sutton asks, tying off balloons with our friend Jess Ryder, who’s married to Matt, a firefighter that works with the guys.
“It’s so cute!” Jess says. “I can’t wait to see what Kinsley does with it.”
“I am just really glad she is getting a good nap in before the party starts. She hasn’t been going down easily these days, I don’t know what to do sometimes,” Sutton says with a sigh.
“You are doing so great with her,” Jess, the only other mother in our group, reassures her. “She is probably hitting another growth spurt, and you know that always messes with their sleep.”
“Thanks, Jess. I’m sure you’re right, I’m just tired.
” Sutton smiles at us. “And I haven’t been sleeping well.
This day is a lot. It’s supposed to be happy .
. . but these big milestones, they are s-so heavy.
I hate that Derek is n-not here, it’s just still so hard.
” A sob escapes and Sutton buries her face in her hands.
We all instantly cocoon our friend in a group hug. There is not much more we can say or do. How can any words soothe an ache that is still a healing wound that constantly gets torn open over and over? All we can do is be here with her, stand in the pain, and let her express it any way she needs to.
Most recently she did that by going to Keller and getting the tattoo in honor of her late husband. A beautiful, imperfect, battle-worn angel wing on her left forearm with a sword. Rem drew it for her, of course.
The baby monitor lights up on the table indicating that the birthday girl is awake and ready to celebrate. Sutton lets out a small groan, her emotions still pulling her to a place she doesn’t want to bring her daughter into.
“Do you mind if I go get her up?” I offer.
“That would be great, thank you. Her birthday outfit is laid out on the changing table,” Sutton says.
“We will be back and party ready in a flash,” I say with a wink.
Sutton’s backyard is filled with so much love. The people that matter most to her and Kinsley. The ones that have helped the both of them through the first year of ups and downs. This was not what Sutton had planned for her life, but life often doesn’t work out the way we hope or expect it to.
My eyes wander over to the shaded pop-up tent in the grass where Eli is standing with Rem and his father, Charles.
They are laughing and talking, attention focused on Wren, who’s wrapped up in Eli’s strong, capable arms. I hate that watching him with a baby, his baby, is something I can’t stop watching.
Like he knows, like my attention on him is a magnetic force, his eyes snap to mine and he gives me a wink.
I roll my eyes at him, trying to maintain my required annoyance with him.
That is my firewall, my safe place when it comes to Eli.
If I keep my walls up, remind myself that he tore out my heart, used me, is a fuckboy that can’t handle a loving relationship—then I’m safe.
But watching him with Wren . . . I think he actually doesn’t know what he’s capable of. Eli has taken on the role of fatherhood effortlessly, like it was something he was always meant for. I can see it, feel it. Eli loves Wren with every part of himself, and she deserves nothing less.
It just makes me wonder, what about me was so unlovable that he was able to easily dismiss everything we had that summer?