by Carian Cole
There are about twenty people mingling around our yard - some by the bonfire, others at the tables on the deck, some sitting over in the gazebo playing acoustic instruments and singing. I find my dad standing at the monstrous grill built into the stone patio, turning steaks and hamburgers over.
"Hey, kiddo, you hungry?" he asks when he sees me.
"Nah, maybe later."
"There's salad." He gestures over to the table where assorted fruits and salads are spread out in serving bowls.
"I'll grab some later. I'm not really hungry."
He blinks at me for a few seconds. "You feel okay?" His face takes on that I have no idea what to do with a female teenager who might not feel good or might be in a mood expression.
Smiling, I touch his arm and lean close to kiss his cheek. "I'm fine, Daddy. I had ice cream on the way home from school."
He backs away from the heat of the grill and pushes his long wavy brown hair out of his face. "With that kid, Jason? On a motorcycle?"
Damn Toren and his big mouth. "Yeah. It was just from school, though. It's not that far. And what the hell? Tor has to tell you every thing I do?"
"No, only the dumb things," he grins at me. "He's right, though. Stay off the bike. We don't want anything to happen to you."
We. I'm being raised by everyone and no one.
My Dad's not with Toren. He's one million percent committed and in love with his wife. My mother - his teen sweetheart. But she's gone now, and my father is a thirty-two-year-old rock star with a seventeen-year-old daughter trying to act like he's not broken and lost and on the verge of losing the very definition of his shit. But I know better. He's afraid something's going to happen to me too. That I'll be here one moment and gone the next. And I don't blame him for feeling that way at all because I feel it, too.
Once you've lost someone you love with no explanation, no closure, no end - you're stuck in a torturous limbo. You don't know if you should hang on to that ray of hope that they might come back or give in to your grief and accept that they're gone. So you teeter between both until you slowly go insane.
I let out a breath. I can't think or talk about my mom much without having a meltdown myself, so I put myself in denial and don't face any of it. She's just away. Like a long vacation with no cell phone access. It's easier that way.
"Okay. No more bikes, Dad. I promise." I don't mind calming his over-protectiveness because he doesn't deserve to have any more stress in his life.
His broad shoulders relax again and he gives me a smile that lights up his face and softens his eyes. It's the smile that's reserved for me and my mother, and it makes my heart melt. My father is an incredibly beautiful man, possessing the kind of good looks where women will actually stop and stare at him, eyes wide, mouth parted, heart pitter-pattering. Some even ask to touch his long hair, or his tattooed arms, while others just want him to look at them so they can catch a glimpse of his soulful eyes. You don't just see his beauty, you can feel it, like a warm breeze that caresses your soul. At least that's how a journalist described him after doing an interview with him.
I fill a small dish with fruit to make him happy and then spy Tor sitting on the edge of the pool by himself. I cross the yard, stopping at one of the coolers to grab a beer on the way. One of the guitarists from another local band is sitting on a lawn chair right next to the cooler. Probably so he doesn't have to get up to get another drink. So lazy.
"What's up, Finn?" I shake the ice off the bottle.
He tips his drink at me in reply. "Kensington."
"Are you guarding the beer?" I tease.
"I might be. You're not drinking that, are ya?" he eyes me suspiciously. "Last time I checked you weren't twenty-one, little girl."
"No, it's for Toren."
A smirk crosses his lips. "Well, if you're playing waitress, I'll take a steak, rare, with some fries."
"Nice try, Finn."
He laughs and throws a potato chip at me as I walk away.
Toren is still sitting on the ground staring into the pool when I sit next to him, tucking my legs beneath me. The pool is heated, but no one's gone in yet. It's still early spring, so the air is a bit too cold for most people to want to swim. A few stray leaves are floating along the surface, and I like how peaceful they look, not going under the water, and not blowing away either. Just floating, weightless and effortless. I want to be a leaf.
I hand Tor the cold bottle and he takes it from me, using his keychain to pop the cap off.
"I thought you were mad at me." He takes a long drink before glancing sideways at me. I can see why Jason was scared of him; on the outside, Tor looks like a badass. He's a beast of a man, not an ounce of fat on him, broad and hard as a rock with ink covering both arms from neck to knuckle. Wavy brown hair falls to the tops of his shoulders. It’s usually tied back in a short ponytail to keep it out of his face when he's working and from tangling up when he's riding. He notoriously wears dark sunglasses to shade his even darker eyes, and his ride of choice is an old custom Harley that roars down the road so loud that you can barely hear yourself think if he's near. But on the inside, he's quiet. Thoughtful. Amazingly caring and giving. Unlike my Dad, he's good looking in a rugged, almost scary way. Chloe has nicknamed him the walking orgasm. I think she's way too fixated on sex lately.
I put my bowl of fruit off to the side. "You know me better than that."
"I shouldn't have embarrassed you in front of your boyfriend."
He passes the bottle to me and I take a sip. I don't like the taste of beer at all but I take sips every now and then, thinking maybe someday that will change and I'll enjoy it like everyone else. Nope. Still tastes gross.
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Really? You were pretty excited about him a few weeks ago. I distinctly remember a bunch of squealing and a happy dance when he asked you out."
Sighing with slight embarrassment over that colorful flashback, I hand the beer back to him, our fingers touching against the cold, damp bottle. "I was, until I got to know him. There's nothing there. I don't feel anything. There's nothing interesting about him. He's just...blah." I feign a shudder.
He laughs and shakes his head. "That shit must be contagious then. That's exactly what Lisa said to me a few days ago."
"You guys broke up?"
"We weren't really together, Kenz. Just kinda seeing where it was gonna go. Testing the waters."
I pick a big, juicy strawberry off my plate and bite it in half. "What did she say?"
He looks up at the sky for a moment before answering. "Well, let's see. She had a whole list, actually. She said I don't give enough. I don't communicate enough. I'm too cold and closed off. I'm too quiet. I work too much. I don't smile enough. I don't dress nice enough." He shrugs. "I've heard it all before."
"You're not cold, Uncle Tor. Not at all. You're just not the type to talk for the sake of talking. You talk when you have something to say. And maybe she's just mad because you're not saying what she wants to hear."
"Apparently I never have much to say, and it's never what they want to hear. She said pretty much the same things to me," he raises his chin and nods across the yard, his eyes zeroing in on Sydni, who's talking to my dad, her long fire-engine-red hair cascading down her back like a mermaid. Aunt Sydni is the bass player in my mom's band, and is my mom’s best friend. She's also been Toren's on-again-off-again girlfriend for the past twelve years or so. Mostly off.
But lately, I see her as the woman who's in love with my dad, and she isn't very good at hiding it.
Yes, welcome to the soap opera that is my life.
"Sydni said that too?" I ask.
"Sydni's said a lot of things over the years, but we both know what it all comes down to. I'm not him. I don't smile like him, I don't talk like him, I don't make her laugh like him, I'm not rich like him. I'll never be as good as him. Blah, blah, blah. To her I'm just a dirty mechanic who chases animals around." He gulps down his beer and I wish I hadn't given it to him.
>
"He doesn't want her, Uncle Tor," I say softly, trying to diffuse him. "He has zero interest in her other than as a friend."
"I know that. Fuck, everyone knows that. But it doesn't change how she feels."
"Maybe you two can work it out? It's been a few months since you broke up, maybe she feels different now. Sometimes you hafta lose something to appreciate it, ya know? She knows you were seeing Lisa. Maybe that made her open her eyes a little. Jealousy can be a great motivator."
A grin spreads across his face. "You're pretty smart, Kenz. But that ship has sailed and sunk. I don't want someone who's in love with someone else. Fuck that."
Agreed. "I don't blame you. You deserve way better than that. She's stupid."
It's hard to love so many people, want to see them happy, but also not like them for the things they do. My mom would be disappointed in Sydni for chasing after my dad and for making Tor feel like he's not good enough. I want to see my dad happy again, and while I admire him for staying committed to my mom, I wonder how long he'll torture himself by not letting himself move on. I don't want him to move on with Sydni, though. Not because I don't like her, I do. But because it's just too twisted. She's his wife's best friend and his best friend’s ex.
I live in a deep, dark, perplexing sea of people. Some might be starfish, and some might be sharks. I just bob along on my little raft; watching and learning.
Rubbing my bare arms, I pull my knees up to my chest and watch as my father walks away from Sydni and takes his acoustic guitar to the gazebo to join the others playing some old rock songs. She doesn't follow him. Good.
"You cold?"
"A little," I answer. "Just when the breeze blows it's kinda chilly."
He pulls off the gray hoodie he's wearing over his t-shirt and hands it to me. "Here, put this on."
I hesitate before accepting. "Then you'll be cold."
He frowns, like he's too cool to feel the chill. "I'm fine. Put it on."
Taking it from him, I slip it over my head, and shiver, but not from the cold. The heat from his body is still in the fabric of the sweatshirt, and it warms me like a hug. I push my hands through the sleeves that are way too long for me and roll up the cuffs.
"It's huge. But thank you."
"You look cute. Keep it. Add it to your growing collection."
Laughing, I lean against his shoulder and he rests his head against mine for a few seconds before pulling away to finish off his beer.
I've been hoarding Tor's things since I was a little girl. Mostly shirts, mugs, his old lighters, his faded denim jacket he wore in high school, a switchblade, some baseball caps, a leather belt, and other random stuff. I've taken all sorts of odd things that I fixated on and wanted to have, just because they were his. And he always let me have them.
He's been collecting parts of me, too. I just didn't know it yet.
2
Tor
Kenzi ~ age five
Toren ~ age twenty
I can hear her crying before I even step through the door. And when I do, she bolts to me and I catch her as she throws herself into my arms. Her face is red, stained with tears, her green eyes bloodshot.
"Uncle Tor..." she gasps for breath between each word, tearing my heart out.
I wipe her cheeks with my thumb. "What's wrong, Angelcake?"
"My bunny! I looked everywhere and he's gone. I think he's on that fucking tour bus!"
Ah. The coveted stuffed bunny I gave her for her last birthday. She drags it everywhere with her.
I try not to laugh at her epic use of the word fucking.
"Whoa. Kenzi...that's a very bad word." Her eyes meet mine defiantly and she says she doesn't care.
I love her fire.
"I wonder where she learned that." Ember says, glaring at me.
Kenzi pulls on my hair. "He's gone, Uncle Tor. That's all that matters."
"He's not gone, Angel. He's just on a journey. But ya know what? There's another bunny out there that needs you. Do you think we should go find him?"
She nods solemnly and sniffles. "Yes. Right now."
Ash and Ember just shake their heads when Kenzi and I come back hours later with a new stuffed bunny...and a real live bunny equipped with a deluxe cage I set up by the window in her bedroom. Kenzi is over the moon with the little rabbit we named Snuggles, and I feel like a hero for saving the day and bringing her smile back.
"She's got you wrapped around her little finger, man." Asher says.
"And you're gonna take care of that rabbit, Tor," Ember warns. "I'm not cleaning that cage every week."
I shrug. "I don't mind. Pets are good for kids. It teaches them responsibility."
"She's five, Tor."
"So? Age doesn't mean shit."
I wink at Kenzi who's cradling her new bunny across the room, an adorable smile on her face, tears long forgotten. It's the best high I've ever felt.
Tor
Asher hands me a cup of black coffee and falls into the chair across from me at his kitchen table, zoning in on me with his dark eyes.
"Sydni thinks you're avoiding her."
My head hurts too much from drinking last night to deal with Asher's probing into my life today. He's always trying to play shrink, and sometimes he has great advice, but other times his philosophical ramblings grate on my nerves. Now is one of those times.
"That's because I am." I vaguely remember her following me to the couch last night and me telling her to go fuck herself.
"You think she deserves that? She just wants you to talk to her."
"I have nothing to say to a chick that tells me she wants to get married one second and then admits she's in love with you the next."
He shifts in his chair. "She's not in love with me, Tor."
Something comes out of me that is half laugh and half snort. "Oh trust me, she is. And ya know what? I don't give a fuck. I'm done. You can have her."
"I don't want her. I'm married." He fingers his platinum wedding band, turning it in circles. It's a habit he does often, and I'm not sure even realizes he's doing it.
As I sip my bitter coffee, I decide to let him stay in his delusion. Trying to make him see that Ember is never coming back is a feat I can't tackle. And if Sydni's attempts to do so haven't worked, then nothing will. Not many men can say no to Syd with her legs for days, flaming red hair, double D's, endless talent, and overactive sex drive. We'd all be better off if he would just hook up with her and move on with his life. Then they'd both be happy and I can slam the revolving door shut that she keeps trying to creep through every time she realizes she can't have him.
I'm not going to be anyone's second choice.
But somehow, I always am. I should just get the number two tattooed onto my forehead.
"What are you two doing up so early?"
Kenzi interrupts our silent stare-off as she comes into the kitchen - still wearing my sweatshirt from last night, no pants, and fuzzy purple socks. As she reaches up into the cabinet, she goes up on her toes to grab one of her favorite mugs that once was mine and the sweatshirt rides up, uncovering half her ass and exposing her white panties with red hearts. I quickly look away and bring my coffee cup to my lips. I didn't just see that. I didn't just see that...
"I have a meeting and Uncle Tor had too much to drink so he slept here. And where are your clothes? I know we can afford pants. You shouldn't be walking around half-naked when we have company."
She runs her hand through her rumpled hair. "Well, Dad, how was I supposed to know anyone was here? I just woke up. And it's only Tor. Since when is he company? He used to live with us." She opens the refrigerator and pulls out milk, eggs, cheese and a container of diced veggies, then bends over to take a frying pan out from one of the lower cabinets.
I divert my eyes again as Asher downs the last of his coffee and stands. "I'm outta here." He nods to me. "See ya later, man. You up for a ride tomorrow? It's supposed to be warm."
I'm always up for a ride. "Hell yeah."
"Dad, I'm making omelettes. Don't you want one before you go?"
"I don't have time today. I'm sure Tor will eat one, though." He kisses her forehead. "I'll be home around four. We'll have dinner together."
I'm not about to turn away food. "Actually, I could use something to eat." Kenzi makes wicked omelettes, expertly folded like they give you at a diner. When I try to make one myself, it ends up looking like road kill.
As soon as Asher's gone, I get up and dump the coffee he made and start a new pot. He always makes this expensive columbian crap that's way too strong and it makes my heart jump around for the rest of the morning.
"Did you sleep in my shirt?" I ask.
She flips the omelette in the pan and peeks at me from behind the veil of messy golden hair falling over her face.
"Maybe..."
Scowling, I take two plates out of the cabinet and set them next to the stove for her. "Kenz...I had that on while I was working on a bike yesterday. It's probably got grease on it. And sweat."
Shrugging, she transfers a perfect omelette onto one of the plates. "You can have that one. And so what? I like it. It's cozy."
"It's dirty."
She laughs. "Cozy. Dirty. What's the difference? I like how it feels and smells."
Her liking the feel and smell of cozy and dirty while she's wearing nothing but my shirt is not something I should be thinking about. But I do, for a quick second, before I bury it deep in that place in my chest with the other thoughts I don't let myself think about.
Like the thoughts that Ember should have been mine.
And the thoughts that I wish I had a chance to say goodbye to my father.
And the thoughts that I should have been there to help my brother.
And the thought that I should have tried harder with Sydni years ago.
