“I love you, Kendi,” he whispered into my hair. Hearing his words, unsure of what was real and what was a lie, the anger that had built up inside me during the drive here exploded, and I pushed him back, hard.
“How could you do that to me, to us? You ruined us. Do I not mean anything to you, Adam? Was it all lies?”
He stepped toward me with his arms outstretched, wanting to pull me back into them. “Kendi, I’m sorry. It wasn’t what you think.” His words angered me even more.
“Really? What was it then? You slept with her for months. You lied to me for months,” I screamed at him while pounding my fists into his chest. “I trusted you, Adam. I love you so much. Why?” I asked, desperately wanting to understand his actions.
He grabbed my wrists and held them tight to keep me from hitting him.
“Why?” I asked again as I looked up at him through wet lashes. I could see tears in his eyes, and I caved as he pulled me back into his arms.
“I’m so sorry, Kendi. I never meant to hurt you. It’s been over for months. I’m so sorry. I love you so much,” he said, resting his chin on my head.
I collapsed against him, suddenly exhausted from my emotional outburst. I sobbed against his chest. He reached down and pulled me up into his arms, carrying me over to the ugly orange chair and sat down holding me in his lap. He held me while I cried. The truth was, he was my best friend, and I needed his comfort even though he was the cause of my pain.
A part of me had died with Mo, and Adam was the only thing keeping the rest of me in one piece. He was my shelter, my rock. When the sobs subsided and I could catch my breath, I pulled away to look at him. He looked different to me, and I realized that I didn’t really know him anymore. Would we ever be able to go back to what we had before? Would I ever see him in the same way again?
With a broken voice, I said, “Tell me everything from the beginning and don’t leave anything out. You owe me that much. You owe me the truth.” I pulled myself out of his arms and sat on top of his desk across from him, hugging myself tightly to fight the internal chill that was invading me.
I sat quietly, letting him talk without interruption, absorbing his every word.
He told me that it had started at a basketball game toward the end of the season. He was upset because Coach had just told him that he was starting Josh for their game instead of Adam. Katie had walked by him outside the locker room, and he had just grabbed her and kissed her without thinking, wanting to take something from Josh. Much to his surprise, she had kissed him back. It hadn’t taken long for that kiss to evolve to more, physically.
They had skipped classes often, meeting at her house, and, during the summer months, they had spent many evenings together while I was working. He told me that it didn’t mean anything to him, that he did not have feelings for her and that he loved me. He assured me that everything between us was real and that he had stopped seeing her after the accident. Mo’s death and my near brush with death had made him realize how precious life was and how lost he would be without me. He had wanted to tell me so many times, but he had been afraid of losing me.
I suddenly felt sick. I had heard enough. I stood up and turned toward the door.
“Kendi.” Adam stood and stepped closer to me. “Don’t leave. Say something,” he said.
I turned back to see fear in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Adam? I’m hurt and confused. I need to go.”
“Please, Kendi, stay with me. We can work this out. I don’t want to lose you.”
He tried to put his arms around me, but I pushed him away. “Don’t, Adam. Don’t touch me. I feel sick just looking at you. I need some time to think.” I held my hand out to keep him away from me. Before turning again toward the door, I pulled the ring that he had given me from my finger and slammed it down on the desk. “Good-bye, Adam.” I walked out the door, shaking from the anger that consumed me. I drove home slowly in the falling snow, trying for the life of me to understand what had gone wrong. Why I wasn’t enough for him. When I finally walked in the door to my house, my mother was waiting for me.
“Kendall, Adam called to see if you got home safely. What were you thinking driving there in this weather?”
“Sorry, Mom. We got in a big fight, and I just had to see him. Don’t worry, I drove carefully,” I said, setting the car keys on the kitchen counter.
“Is everything okay? You look really upset,” she said, her face etched with worry.
“Can we talk about this later? I just want to go to bed.” I was too exhausted to have this conversation with my mother.
“Sure, honey, get some sleep. I love you.” She gave me a hug, and I slowly walked up the stairs, mumbling that I loved her too.
The phone was ringing by the time I crawled into bed. I ignored it. I heard my mom answer it, telling someone, most likely Adam, that I was home but I had already gone to bed. I couldn’t sleep. I opened the drawer of my nightstand, and pulled out handfuls of letters and notes that Adam had written me over the past year and a half. I read through every single one and obsessed over every lie that he had written, questioning every moment that we had shared. I felt lost and longed for Mo to help me through the mess that my life had become. Sleep finally took me, and I dreamed of Morgan for the first time in months.
Run
“Kendi, are you ready?” Marie’s voice brought me back to the present, and I looked up at her with a blank expression. I glanced around to find that people were starting to file out of the church. Marie and I were sitting alone in the pew. The rest of my family was most likely standing in the foyer thanking everyone for coming as they left the funeral. “You looked like you needed a minute, so I told everyone to go ahead and that we would be right behind them.” Marie smiled at me knowingly.
I could see the questions in her eyes, so much that she wanted to say to me, struggling with the promises that she had made long ago. Adam’s presence brought back all the pain from the past, pain that Marie had witnessed firsthand. I stared ahead to the front of the church and thought of Mo and how much I missed her, how much I had needed her over the years. I thought about Adam, how much time had passed and yet he still pulled at my heart as if he owned it even after a decade. I suddenly felt like I had been running, running for years without rest, and I was tired. All the years pushing myself forward, burying myself in school and work, never looking back. Overwhelmed with memories, grief and exhaustion, I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.
“Oh, Kendi,” my sister said as she put her arms around me, fighting back her own tears.
I finally pulled myself together. Marie grabbed my coat and handbag, as we started to walk down the center aisle to the front entrance. The church was completely empty, and I wondered how long I had been lost in my own thoughts. We were halfway down the aisle when Adam appeared from a side door and started to walk toward us. I stopped walking, unable to move. He was wearing jeans now and a light blue button-down shirt, untucked, resembling the young boy that I remembered more than the man—a pastor of all things—that he had become.
“Are you okay?” I heard Marie ask, her voice sounding distant, drowned out by the pounding of my heart. Realizing that I wasn’t going to answer, she told me that she would wait for me in the car. She handed me my coat and walked away. Adam approached me. He looked the same. He was still adorable with his wavy hair and huge deep blue eyes. He had filled out more, and I could see the lines around his eyes that were not there in his youth.
“Kendall, I’m so sorry about your grandfather.” The formality in his voice as he said my full name shocked me. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the truth stung; we had become strangers, and I was to blame.
“Thank you. It was a beautiful service, Adam.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“I fill in for Pastor Phillips every now and then. I offered to cover the service today, given my personal connection to your family. I’m surprised that your mom didn’t tell you.”
“Kendi...”
I closed my eyes, bracing myself against the pain and desperation in his voice. “Yeah,” I said, as I turned to face him.
He took a few steps toward me, closing the distance that I had started to put between us. “We should talk. Before you leave again. There are things that need to be said.”
“Adam...” I started to protest but he stopped me. I was going to say that it had been years, that there was nothing left to say. It was all so far behind us now, what good was it to bring it all up again? Of course the ache in my heart told me otherwise.
“Here’s my address. I’ll be home later today and tomorrow. Please just think about it.”
He placed a slip of paper in my hand, and the sudden brush of his skin against mine sent chills through my body. The words were caught in my throat, and I said nothing. I clenched the paper tightly in my hand and walked quickly out of the church, not bothering to put on my coat. The cold air burned my lungs as I stepped outside and inhaled deeply. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I had been holding my breath. Tears stung my eyes as I ran to the car where Marie was waiting. I slammed the car door closed.
“Just drive,” I blurted out before Marie had a chance to say anything.
She pulled the car away from the curb in silence, but once we reached a good distance from the church, the words that she had been holding back for years surfaced. “I know that I took a vow never to discuss this, but I have to say something now. Kendi, it’s been ten years. You need to tell him. He deserves to know, and maybe it will be good for you. You could move on. I mean really move on.”
I exhaled loudly through my mouth, trying to calm myself. “I can’t, Marie. It’s been too long. He’ll hate me, and I’m not sure that I can deal with that.”
“Is that worse than you hating yourself? I want you to be happy, and keeping this from him is eating away at you. I can’t sit back and watch you destroy yourself over this anymore. Tell him. Please.”
She was right; he deserved to know. But I had buried the truth for so long, hidden behind my shame and guilt. How could I tell him now? And I had so many others to consider as well. My mother for one and my boyfriend, Derek.
Derek and I had been seeing each other for two years. I was introduced to him almost immediately after moving to Southern California. He was smart, funny and completely gorgeous. We met at a party that my attending physician held shortly after I started my residency. Derek had gone to school with Dr. Watson at UCLA, although Derek went into finance and was now an investment banker.
He was a few years older than me, already settling into his career at the time, and I was just starting a four-year residency. We spent the evening talking outside on the large deck overlooking the ocean. He asked me out to dinner at the end of the night, and we exchanged numbers. My residency left me little time for a personal life, but he was patient, and somehow a few dates blossomed into something more, and now I couldn’t imagine my daily life without him.
He had wanted to be here with me today, but he was in New York for a very important public launch of a new company. I wanted to come alone anyway. I guess part of me kept him at arm’s length when it came to my past. I hadn’t realized until now— seeing Adam for the first time in years—that I hadn’t completely given myself to Derek.
That explained my hesitation when he had asked me to move in with him, and the anxiety I felt every time that he talked about the future. I was not ready for the future or any big steps until I finished my residency; at least that was what I told myself. But now I knew that maybe it was more than that.
Although, in my defense, I had no idea where I would end up when my residency was completed. The lucky ones were offered jobs where they wanted to be, but nothing was certain in this field, and sometimes people had to go where the job took them. Of course, Derek insisted that he would move wherever he had to so that we could start a life together. Marriage, kids—he wanted it all. I could hardly speak of those things, but he seemed so sure. How could I marry him or have his children when there was so much about me that he didn’t know? I finally realized how unfair I had been to Derek...and to Adam.
“He wants to talk. He gave me his address.” I remembered the crumpled paper that I held in my clenched fist and opened it up to look at it. And there written on a torn piece of notebook paper was his neat and perfect script staring back at me. I need to see you, Kendi. Address is 705 Elm Drive. I’ll be home over the next few days. ~A
Seeing my name written in his familiar handwriting brought back so many memories from that time, a time when I thought life was so complicated. Looking back, life was actually quite simple then; well, at least in comparison to where it had all led.
Better Days
Days turned into weeks, and I had not seen or heard Adam since that night, although not for his lack of trying. He tried calling almost every day, and I refused to take his calls. He stopped by my house, and my mother would tell him the same thing each time: that she was sorry, but I didn’t want to see him. He even came to a few of Josh’s basketball games, in hopes to see me, but I blatantly ignored him. He finally resorted to mailing me letters, which I placed in my drawer, unopened. It was killing me not to have him in my life, but his lies and deceit were irrevocable. I knew that I could never trust him again, and I was still dealing with the pain and humiliation that his choices had left me with.
Josh and I had become close friends through it all. He was hurt too, although I often told him that he couldn’t avoid Adam forever. They were family, and sooner or later they had to deal with what happened. In the meantime, I was happy to have Josh to vent to. We often criticized Adam and Katie, pointing out their flaws and annoying behaviors, finding solace in the idea that they were both heartless, selfish human beings, and that we were better off without them.
We also revisited the past, noting certain events that should have raised red flags for both of us, but neither one of us had suspected anything. I think sometimes that is the worst part, the feeling of being blindsided. The smoke screen was so thick that I couldn’t possibly have seen the truth. The lies definitely hurt the most. I could see why my mother was always so adamant about telling the truth. The pain she must have felt from my father’s own lies, I now understood all too well.
I had confided in my mother about what had happened between Adam and me. Of course, this led to a conversation that I had successfully avoided having with my mother until then. The sex talk. She asked me the obvious question, had Adam and I been having a sexual relationship as well? Avoiding the look in her eyes, I had answered her honestly. She was amazingly understanding but wanted to make sure that we had been “safe,” especially since I was not the only person that he had slept with. I assured her that we always used a condom. Leaving out the few times that Adam had simply “pulled out” before anything happened. She had been extremely supportive while I tried to recover from my heartache, and it had brought us closer together. Her eyes told me that she struggled with seeing her youngest daughter in so much pain. My grief over losing Morgan had nearly crushed the both of us and now this. It had been a hard year.
I spent countless hours on the phone with Marie. She offered a more realistic perspective than my mother, having gone through a difficult breakup in high school as well. She was furious over the situation and threatened to come home several times to “kick Adam’s ass.” The visual alone brought a smile to my face, reminding me of the time that she had punched Tyler Stevens in
the face after he had bullied me for months in the fourth grade. He never bothered me again, and the fact that he had been beat up on by a girl was never forgotten.
It was comforting to know that Marie had my back, but causing Adam physical harm wouldn’t have changed anything. I clung to her every word, the wisdom that only an older sister could provide, like when she promised me that this was just a bump in the long road ahead of me, that I would learn from this life experience, thankful that it had occurred to prepare me for something bigger and better that awaited in the wings. That she knew it was hard to see past the hurt now, but eventually I would get over Adam, and this would all be a piece of my past, nothing but a story to tell. I hoped that she was right.
Other than Josh and my family, I didn’t talk about Adam with anyone. I told Liz and Tracy that Adam and I had simply broken up, but I didn’t tell them about Katie. I was too humiliated.
I focused on my schoolwork, completing the endless college applications that I had requested and applying for the local scholarships suggested by Mr. Shelby. I couldn’t wait to break free from the painful reminders my small hometown represented. College would be a fresh start, and I was looking forward to it. I had originally picked up several applications for colleges near Adam, but I needed to be as far away as possible from him. So I concentrated on the ones in the Seattle area, as far north as Bellingham.
~
It was Valentine’s Day. I treated it like any other day, ignoring the vases full of roses and obscenely large balloon bouquets that arrived throughout the day to the school’s front office. I would not be receiving anything this year, and I was okay with that, but I didn’t need the constant reminder that Adam and I were through. I had survived Christmas and New Year’s without him, finding solace in my sister’s company while she was home from college and spending time with Mo’s family. I could survive this.
I went home from school early. I just wanted to be alone. I set down my backpack in the entry hall and headed upstairs to my room. I opened the door and was shocked to see vases full of white and red roses strategically placed on every flat surface that my room had to offer. A white envelope with my name on it was on my bed among a colorful array of rose petals. This could only be the work of one person. I immediately grabbed the envelope and decided to finally read what Adam had to say.
Ripple: A Novel Page 7
