by Sarina Bowen
“But—” Kyle’s eyes are fixed on the doorway where Kieran disappeared.
“You can talk to him later,” Griff says, leading Kyle away before the moment gets any freakier.
“Excuse me,” I whisper, standing, although nobody is paying me any mind. “I’m just going to…”
Then I gallop after Kieran.
Luckily, Kieran isn’t hard to find. He’s right outside the sliding door of the hospital. “Do you have a cigarette?” he asks me when I arrive at his side.
“No way. Let’s not poison our lungs over this,” I say, startled.
“Fine.” He tucks his chin against his chest.
I move to stand next to him, so we’re both holding up the wall together. And, very surreptitiously, I reach a pinky finger out and hook it over his. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“That was your real secret, right? The thing that made everything else hard.”
“Yeah.” His finger hooks around mine.
I look up at the wintry sky, but I’m really seeing all those faces in the waiting room, staring at Kieran as he drops this bomb—that somehow he’s not his father’s biological son. He didn’t say why, but if it’s such a big secret, the reason must be something shameful.
“I should have just gone with Kyle, right?” he says. “Maybe the hospital wouldn’t have said anything. My whole life I’ve dreaded this.” He looks up at me with red eyes, and it’s as if I can see right through him.
He’d said his family had secrets, but I hadn’t really understood. “You’ve been sitting on this a long time, then? That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” he croaks. “I was just supposed to pretend I don’t know the things I know. So my parents could save face.”
“That’s exhausting.”
“Sure, but…” He swallows. “The reward was staying in the group, you know? My cousins aren’t even my cousins, for fuck’s sake.”
Oh. “Of course they are,” I say fiercely. And then I step into Kieran’s personal space and hug him. And he wraps his arms around me and puts his chin on my shoulder.
It feels so good and so necessary that I feel like crying. It’s just hitting me why Kieran is so obsessed with his secrecy. He’s been clinging to it all his life.
“I’m sorry,” Kieran says. “All this drama. We were just supposed to be grocery shopping.”
“With you, it’s never just grocery shopping,” I whisper. “I’d go anywhere with you. And I’d do anything for you.” If only he’d let me. I take a big breath, and then I do the difficult thing and step back from this man I love, so that he can maintain the facade that we’re just buddies.
He’s too emotional right now to protect himself. So I will do that for him.
“Besides,” I say, giving his shoulders a quick squeeze before I step back to my spot against the wall. “The Shipleys are never boring.”
He gives me a crooked, grateful smile. Then he reaches his hand out and grabs mine. All five fingers this time. “Roddy, I don’t want to be alone.”
“None of us do. And you aren’t, you know.” I’ve seen the Shipley wolf pack in action. I’d bet cash money that a month from now they’re watching sportsball together just like always.
“No,” he argues. “I mean that I need you. If you move out, it will kill me. I want us to be together.”
“Honey.” My heart thumps in my chest. “I am a hundred percent available for this discussion. But we need to get through this outrageous day before you make any more life-changing pronouncements.” If Kieran ever decides to tell his family about us, I want him to do it with a clear head, so he doesn’t regret it later. And nobody should come out to his family while his father lies bleeding on an operating table. “One family crisis at a time, please.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I do,” I say calmly. “But you shouldn’t march into that waiting room in front of your terrified extended family and yell, ‘Guess what, Shipley clan! This ass is so gay!’”
Kieran gives me a sideways glance. “If that’s what you needed, I’d do it,” he says in that serious voice of his. “I’d even toss around some glitter around if you dared me.”
I turn to look into his gorgeous eyes, and we stare at each other for half a second before bursting out in loud, inappropriate laughter—the kind that happens when you’re having a top-ten stressful day, and the tension just needs somewhere to go. Kieran’s face creases into hilarity, and I actually see tears in his eyes as he leans against the brick wall and laughs.
And I’m just as bad. Every time I think I can stop giggling, I picture Kieran tossing a handful of glitter and...
Yup. Laughing again.
We keep it up until the hospital doors slide open, expelling an elderly couple who give us a stare. Only then can we dial it back. Kieran squeezes my hand as we catch our breath.
I hold his tightly, too. I drop it as the doors slide open again to reveal a very pissed-off Kyle Shipley, with Griffin bringing up the rear. They’re both wearing Red Cross stickers on their flannel shirts.
“There you are,” Kyle says, breathless. “What the hell just happened?”
“Easy,” Griffin says, a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Maybe Kieran doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah? Well, not talking about it doesn’t work so well, does it? We play this weird game of telephone at our house. Our father prefers me and our mother loves Kieran best and everyone is tense and weird from dawn till dusk. And my whole life nobody would ever say why. And you—” He pokes a finger into his brother’s chest. “You always assume I can’t tell. Like I’m deaf and blind.”
Kieran looks uneasy. “Well, you have the privilege of pretending everything is fine.”
“The privilege,” Kyle scoffs. “Like I can’t tell when Dad is angry and Mom is stressed. I act the way I act because someone has to be the rodeo clown. Would you step up and run that shit show if you were always kept in the dark like me?”
Kieran puts his hands on top of his head and sighs. “No. I guess I wouldn’t.”
“I notice plenty, okay? Like you’re in love with your roommate, for example.”
“What?” Kieran blinks.
Griffin smiles. And I clamp a hand over my mouth.
“You heard me,” Kyle bellows. “I see things. I know things. Not that anyone ever bothers to bring me up to speed. What happened back there, anyway? I mean, I was there when you were born. How the hell are you not—” Kyle catches himself before he finishes the sentence. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
“I do,” Griff says quietly. With one of his lumberjack arms, he steers Kyle away from his brother. Then he grabs Kieran into a tight hug. “Love you, brother. Whatever bullshit happened before you were born wouldn’t change that.”
Kieran gulps audibly, and my eyes feel hot all of a sudden. “Love. You. Too,” Kieran grunts, although this display of verbal emotion almost kills him.
“Okay. Okay,” Kyle says from the sidelines. “As usual, Griff is better at this than any of us. And here I am yelling at you.” He sighs. “I’m sorry.”
Griffin steps back, then whacks Kyle on the shoulder. “It’s a hard day. Take a breath. And maybe it isn’t Kieran’s job to explain your parents’ past.”
“Good point,” I say, even though nobody asked me.
The hospital doors open up again, and Grandpa Shipley appears. “He’s out of surgery!” the old man yells. “And stable!”
All three Shipley cousins sag with relief. “Finally,” Kyle says, and then gallops toward the doors.
Griffin squints at Kieran. “You going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “But I do not want to go back in there right now.”
“Your dad won’t be awake, or seeing people for a while,” Griffin says. “Take a breather.” He gives Kieran’s shoulder one more squeeze, claps me on the back, and walks away.
Grandpa
walks slowly toward where we’re standing on the sidewalk. He stops in front of us, tears in his eyes. “I thought I’d lost him. A man shouldn’t bury both of his sons. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
“You’re right, Grandpa,” Kieran says.
“My sons aren’t perfect people,” he goes on to say. “Did you know your father was a difficult, angry teenager? Never listened to a thing I said.”
Kieran’s eyes widen. “No?”
Grandpa shakes his head. “I love every stubborn hair on his head, though. And yours, too. I always will. Blood type doesn’t mean shit, boy. You know what does?”
Speechless, Kieran shakes his head.
“Who shows up at the hospital when you cut yourself up in a dumbass farming accident. That’s what matters.” At that, the man turns away and limps toward the doors again.
Kieran
Roderick takes over after we get the news that my dad’s out of surgery.
First, he figures out that the hospital will allow two people at once to see Dad in the ICU. Mom and Grandpa have that honor.
“So I’m taking you home,” he says. “It’s cold out here, and you’re shivering.”
I hadn’t noticed. But I let him steer me to the truck, where I get into the passenger seat and let him drive me home.
Then he makes me a grilled cheese sandwich, because when you live with a baker there’s always bread. But I eat it without tasting it.
“Come on,” he says afterward. “You look beat. Let’s watch an episode.”
Numb, I follow him to the sofa for the first time in way too long. He sits at one end. And instead of sitting down beside him, I lie down with my head in his lap, shamelessly asking for affection that I don’t actually deserve.
Roddy doesn’t hesitate, though. He puts a hand on my head, sifting his fingers through my hair. It feels so good that my eyelids get heavy.
“Thank you,” I say sleepily.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Everything is really okay.”
“I love you,” I try. It isn’t nearly as hard to say as I thought it would be. “I love you so much.” Actually, it does hurt to say it. But it aches in a good way. Like sore muscles after a good workout. It aches like progress.
Roddy leans down and places a soft kiss on my temple. “I know,” he says. “I love you, too. Now just relax.”
I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, I’m waking up on the sofa, my head on a pillow, and Roddy is opening the back door to someone.
“Is he here?” my mother’s voice asks without preamble.
“Yes, but he’s sleeping,” Roderick says.
“But I need to speak to him.”
Before I can tell them I’m awake, I hear Roddy let fly with a response. “Oh, so now you want to talk to him? Because it’s convenient for you, and you drove all the way into town to have a conversation that’s years overdue?”
“But—”
“You know what, lady? That’s the very definition of conditional love. On your terms, right? Well, I say come back later.”
“Roddy,” I bark, my voice hoarse from disuse. “I’m up.”
“He’s awake,” my mother growls. Even though I can’t see her, I know she just pushed past him into the house.
I sit up, and the room slowly rights itself. I feel sluggish, but surprisingly calm. Today’s disasters were inevitable. And even though all those eyes on me in the hospital waiting room gave me a case of emotional sunburn, I also feel relief.
Griffin was right when he said that it wasn’t my job to explain it. It shouldn’t be my burden. But it has been, for ten years.
My mother loses some of her bluster between the backdoor and the living room, though. Because her head appears at the doorframe before the rest of her. “Kieran, are you awake?”
“Yeah, Mom. Come in.”
“Your roommate doesn’t seem to like me very much,” she sniffs.
“Boyfriend,” I correct, standing up.
Her mouth hinges open. “What?”
“Boyfriend.” I yawn deeply. “Hang on a sec. Sit down.” I wave a hand at the couch and then leave the room to look for Roderick.
I find him standing in the kitchen with Zara, who has Nicole on her hip.
“Hey,” I greet them. “When did you sneak in?”
“Just a second ago, right after your mother. I brought you a lasagna, because Audrey told me about your dad’s accident.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you.” I guess I’m having that kind of day—with drama of such magnitude that the neighbor brings you a casserole.
“Seems like Roddy needs a piece, too, because he looks a little worked up.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at your mom,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have some, uh, parent issues I’m working through.”
“Hey, it was kind of hot.”
His surprised smile is so cute that I have to step closer and give him a quick kiss. “Thank you for being my chauffeur and bouncer today. And heat up that lasagna. We’re going to need it.”
When I step back, Zara is blinking at us. “Something tells me I missed a few other developments.”
“You have no idea,” Roddy says cheerfully.
“Cool, cool,” Zara says. “Just let me know if we need to shuffle the schedule tomorrow to let Kieran visit the hospital. You know where to find me.”
“Nazagna,” Nicole says. “Eat.”
“Ah, Mama’s girl,” Zara says. “Let’s get home and find you a snack.”
“Cookie?” she asks, hopefully. The sight of her two neighbors kissing does not faze her at all. It didn’t seem to faze Zara, either, now that I think about it.
“We’ll see.” My boss rolls her eyes. “Night, guys. Reheat it with the foil on top.”
“Thanks, boss!” Roddy says. “See you in the morning.”
She departs, leaving Roddy and me alone in the kitchen. I glance toward the living room, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I have to go back in there, don’t I?”
“I tried.” His eyes sparkle. “But I’ll bring you a glass of an adult beverage. For courage.”
“Would you?”
“Sure. And remember—you didn’t create this problem.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, only I’ve spent my whole life believing otherwise. I created the problem just by showing up twenty-five years ago.
He gives me a gentle shove, and I walk toward the living room where my mother waits.
I find her on the sofa, her head in her hands. “I’ve always dreaded this conversation,” she says.
“That must be why we never had it,” I point out.
She looks up. “I couldn’t ever figure out how. I was protecting you. And I was protecting your father. How did you figure out that you’re not biologically his son? Was it really in a biology class?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I overheard a conversation outside of church. One of my teachers was gossiping with a friend. I was in a tree above them so that none of the old ladies would pinch my cheeks or ask me about school.” I used to hate the coffee hour because I didn’t like making small talk with adults. Sue me. “They were talking about families who had ‘oops’ babies.” I make finger quotes. “And the other woman said, ‘Well you know, Bert Shipley had the ultimate oops baby. He wasn’t even the father.’”
As I watch, all the blood drains from my mother’s face. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard, because I can still hear the sound of their laughter. “I still wasn’t ready to believe it was me. But then they mentioned Father Craig.”
Father Craig was a very popular priest who left Colebury right before I was born. Years later, I used to hear people wonder aloud why he’d left. I think I might be the reason why.
“Jeez.” My mother wipes her eyes. “How did they know?”
I shake my head. “You think I jumped out of the tree to ask?”
“No, of course not.” She sniffs. “So you heard it from a couple of church gossips that I had a
n affair with a priest.”
“Yeah. Basically.”
The women had said as much. I’d known immediately that it was true. Because whenever my parents had their very worst fights, my father used to end the conflict by yelling, “Just don’t seek solace with the priest.” I’d never understood why he’d say that. Until the day I finally did.
“How old were you?” my mother asks quietly.
“Fourteen.”
“That must have been shocking. I wish you could have told me.”
“How was I supposed to ask questions about it? And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.”
“Baby, I’m sorry,” she says, as tears track down her face. “Even now it isn’t easy for me to explain. I did a terrible thing. When I got pregnant, I told your father everything. I offered to give him a divorce. But…”
Roderick walks into the room with a box of tissues, sets them down on the coffee table, and walks out again.
My mother grabs one and mops the tears from her face. “Your father decided he didn’t want a divorce. He didn’t want Kyle passed back and forth between us. So we went to counseling. He decided he wanted to be your father, too. And that we would go on as we were before.”
Ouch. “How did that work out?”
“We tried, Kieran. You know there’s tension.”
I snort loudly.
“The thing that you don’t understand is that we loved each other. We had a good marriage before I ruined it, and your dad wanted to try to get that back. But once the trust was gone, it was really difficult.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. There doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the world today.
“Your father loves you, Kieran. I believe that with all my heart.”
“That is wishful thinking,” I insist.
“When you were smaller, you two were close,” she says. “He treated you just like he treated little Kyle. But when you were a teenager, you didn’t have as much in common. That’s when you two stopped getting along. And—” She puts her hands together in the prayer position. “I hope that isn’t my fault, too. If you stopped seeing yourself as your father’s child, it probably affected your relationship with him.”
