by Mariah Dietz
“I’m not saying you are.”
“Like hell! Lo, you’re worth it. I’m willing to put everything into this. You need to decide if you are.”
I nod, but can’t look at him. I want to believe the conviction in his words so badly. The trouble is—I don’t.
King brushes a kiss to my temple, a gentle squeeze to my sides. “I’ll call you later.”
My footsteps are slow as I leave the office in search of Mercedes. I told Kash I was accepted the day after I told King. He didn’t seem surprised in the least, but he did appear sad. I asked them both to allow me the chance to tell Mercedes, knowing the news would be difficult for her to hear from anyone, but especially if it came from someone other than me. I find her in her room, finishing homework.
“Took you long enough. Were you guys playing smoochy face this entire time?” Her eyes remain on her notebook, but I see the sarcastic smile in the tightening of her cheeks and temples.
“Want to go on a walk today?”
She moves her head up to face me, narrowing her green eyes with speculation. “Why?”
I shrug absently. “It’s nice out.”
“No it’s not.”
“Let’s go.” I lift my chin in the direction of the door.
“You aren’t breaking up with King, are you? I mean, I know he didn’t handle things right at dinner, but I really think he was just trying to figure out what was going on. You know King. He would never let someone hurt you.”
I look to the side but keep my face mostly forward. “This has nothing to do with King.”
“Are you going to tell me about your brother?”
“There isn’t much to say,” I lie.
“Then why are we going on this walk?”
“Fresh air.”
Her eyes are slits of disbelief, but she doesn’t push me for any more. I’m grateful because I still don’t know how I’m going to tell her.
We pass by Robert’s house, and I note that all of his lights are off. I think Mercedes does too, as her attention seems to linger for long moments, searching for a definite conclusion.
When we arrive at the bus stop, I don’t have a destination in mind, so I ask Mercedes if there’s anything she’d like to see or do.
“Let’s get on whatever bus comes next.”
I raise an eyebrow in question, knowing that there are areas of Portland I would never willingly bring Mercedes to. I reserve the right to disagree until the bus comes and the lights inform me we’re headed to downtown. We find a shared seat near the middle. Mercedes sits tucked in beside the window, and we both stare out at the streets of Portland. It’s starting to drizzle, the skies darkening. It makes some people scurry, attempting to reach their destinations quicker, while others pull out a prepared umbrella or hat. Several, however, keep their pace. The rain is like an old friend to them, or perhaps they, like King, realize you truly can’t hide from it. Can you really hide from anything?
I know there are several reasons I have delayed telling Mercedes about going to Florence, the first being I know how much it will hurt her. She has been left by so many, and I hate choosing to be another that does the same. The second and selfishly more prominent reason is that each day that passes, I find more and more reasons tipping the scale to stay, but I still know I need to go. This is my dream.
“Didn’t you say Charleigh works at the greatest donut shop in Portland?”
I close my eyes to rid my thoughts and look to Mercedes. Small dark hairs are curling and sticking out near her temples. I’m sure mine are doing the same, and it makes me smile. “Yeah. You want to go get some?”
“I think we both need one.”
I suck in a deep breath through my nose. You have no idea.
Then again, this is Mercedes. She likely does.
Although it’s past four, there’s still a short line in front of us. Blue Star Donuts is never empty. Their lines attest to how truly delectable the elaborate yet simple concoctions are that fill the glass cases.
Mercedes wanders to the far end while I stand in line, her eyes growing as she looks over the platters and names of each donut.
We order an odd number of the confections, neither of us able to commit to any one, therefore selecting over a dozen. “We’re going to have to hide these. Parker doesn’t even taste his food. He just inhales it,” she tells me.
I smile, my mouth full of an apple fritter that is melting over my tongue, sending happy sugar shockwaves through my taste buds directly to my brain. It dulls the thoughts of leaving, of staying, of last weekend, and of breaking her heart.
“HOW DID it go?” Kash asks as Mercedes drags herself down the hall to change out of her damp clothes.
“I didn’t tell her.” I can’t look at him as I admit the words. He doesn’t reply, and his previous movements to unload the dishwasher stop.
“Are you second-guessing going?”
I shrug, still not able to look at him. “No. I just don’t know how to say it without making her hurt.”
“You’ll be back.”
“But I’m still leaving, and she’s going to have to get yet another new nanny. I don’t think you understand how difficult this will be for her. How much she has loathed going through nannies.”
“I know my daughter.” Kash’s words are a warning, one I should likely follow.
“Obviously not as well as you think you do.”
Kash drops his chin, his eyes wide. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I’m picking a fight with him. I realize this, yet I can’t stop it. I need someone to yell at. I need someone to yell at me. Hopefully it will be loud enough to try to dim the screaming in my own head. “What’s your deal with Summer? You do know that Mercedes wants a mom, right? And I’m not suggesting you up and marry someone because of it, or marry her tomorrow, but—”
Kash shakes his head. “She’s a child. She receives more love than half of the kids on Earth. Last Christmas she asked for a chimp.” Kash’s eyes grow wider and he extends a hand palm up. “Should I have given her one?”
The irritation in his voice baits me to continue, but the sorrow in his brown eyes that are pleading with me to stop makes my tone softer. “You have to give her some credit. She’s ten, Kash. She loves you so much and is absolutely terrified of talking to you about her mom because she thinks it will make you sad. She loves Summer. Summer loves her, and Summer loves you.”
Kash’s gaze and shoulders fall toward the floor. “I can’t. I can’t go through the idea of losing someone again. It may not be death this time. Maybe it’s divorce, or another guy. How many couples stay together these days? Once I’m in, I am all in.”
“Summer hasn’t dated anyone in five years. Five. Years. Kash.” My head shakes with how obtuse he’s being. “It doesn’t get any more in than that. But if you don’t do something soon, you’re going to lose her. She’s eventually going to resent always being here for you, and you never appreciating it or noticing how much she’s giving, and just as importantly, what she’s trying to give to you.”
“What if—”
“There are an infinite number of what ifs but only one choice to make. You need to decide if you’re ever going to be ready to let someone in, or let her free.”
Silence stretches, hanging heavily in the air, beckoning me to break it. I swallow the desire as Kash’s gaze travels back to mine, his chin tilted and attention focused. “Are you going to break up with King?”
My attention drops faster than a blink.
“Lo, it’s just a summer.”
“My career has no direct ties. I could end up anywhere.”
“You’re being a coward!”
I look back to him but can’t keep his intense stare, so I move between over his shoulder and over his head. “I haven’t made a decision.”
Kash blinks heavily as his eyes grow wide once again. “You haven’t decided on what? On not going?”
“Almost anything,” I answer truthfully.
THE NEXT week goes by sl
owly. I’m no longer working to avoid only King. I’m working to avoid everyone and everything because the thought of saying goodbye is starting to threaten my certainty for going.
“Why are you ignoring everyone all of a sudden?” Kenzie’s arms are spread between both railings, her eyes wide, demanding a response. I’ve been so careful, yet I wasn’t even paying attention as I wandered up the stairs, trying to think positively about Italy for the first time all week.
“I’ve been avoiding you since September,” I reply honestly.
I note the way her eyes look away for a fleeting second before returning to me. “Not like this you haven’t.”
I shrug off her response and take another step forward to signal I’m done. She allows me to pass, following close behind as I unlock the door to our apartment. Kenzie drops her purse to the ground with a thud, closely followed by her coat.
“Is this because of the fashion show?”
Through narrowed eyes I watch her closely, trying to read what all she may know about the situation.
“I know what it’s like to not feel accepted by your family,” she continues. “I’ve always been the black sheep. King and Kash were older and always off doing stuff with their bikes, or off on some adventure that I wasn’t invited to. I never wanted to be home. I hated that place. It was huge and always empty, yet I was never allowed to leave. I felt like I had manacles around my ankles and wrists for eighteen years. Believe me, I get it.”
I’ve never shared my personal feelings about anything with Kenzie. Perhaps it’s the timing, or that I’m feeling vulnerable, but my head shakes with defeat. “The people that are supposed to love me the most, unconditionally…” My lungs feel weighted yet empty, and my throat too tight. I don’t know if it hurts so much because I’m finally admitting this to someone else or because I am finally acknowledging this truth myself. “They don’t love me. My dad needed another son. Someone to stay and carry on the family business with my brother. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me. Hell, I can’t remember the last time he told me he loves me. And my brother. God, my brother has hated me since I was born. Everything about me he hates. The way I look, the way I act, what I go to school for, the fact that I lived there, the fact that I’m now gone. And we can’t forget about my mom.” I take a deep breath as a strange energy creeps through my veins that has my fingers trembling, keeping tears at bay though they burn at the corners of my eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me.”
“I don’t understand why you even care.”
“I told you I messed up. I know I messed up. Eighteen years living with Queen Bitch taught me a lot of nasty habits. Ones I still don’t even recognize until they’re pointed out to me. We are really different people, but I know how much my family is starting to love you, and if I can do something to make this right, I will. Anything.”
I press my lips together to stop them from quivering. “My mother left when I was two months old. She has never wanted me.” My voice wavers and my eyes gloss with tears. “If they can’t love me, who will?” My chin trembles violently and the gloss becomes smears as tears glide down my face.
“People who say that blood is thicker than friendship have never known what it’s like to have an asshole as a parent. It’s a bunch of bullshit. Too many families stick together out of pure obligation.” Kenzie’s throat moves as she swallows. Her lips and chin quiver as she opens them to speak again. “We don’t get to choose our families, but we do get to decide who we make our families. Sometimes they’re blood, and sometimes it’s something much deeper.”
“What if there’s something wrong with me?” My voice is strained and hoarse.
“There’s something wrong with all of us. It’s a matter of finding the people that can accept those faults and love them as much as your strengths. Too many people want to be Wendy. They want to find the Lost Boys and be their savior—the reason for them to change their ways. People don’t change, though, at least not permanently. Eventually, those bad habits will return because like it or not, we are all born with weaknesses.”
I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and smile at her though my lips are tipped downward with the desire to cry. “I feel like we need to follow this up by singing Kumbaya or something.”
“You’re worse at having a deep conversation than my brothers,” Kenzie says, shaking her head as her face travels up in an attempt to hide her own tears.
“I was raised by men. It’s to be expected.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you, and I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about King. I swear, it wasn’t because of you. It was because of Isabelle, and I know that doesn’t make it right or fair. I just hope you can sort of understand.”
I nod, brushing yet another stray tear from my cheek. “I get it. Sometimes we do crazy things for the people we love.”
“I won’t butt in anymore,” Kenzie says with a firm nod. “Your business with King is your business, but you really should go talk to him.”
“So was this an attempt to make your conscience feel better, or a favor to King, or…”
Kenzie shrugs, her shoulders rolling in a way that reminds me of King. “Maybe all of it, but, although we may never be close friends, I don’t want you to hate me, Lo. I really did like you at the beginning of the year, and as much as I hated you for sleeping with King, I hated you even more because I still liked you.”
There have been multiple times this year that I’ve loathed Kenzie as both a person and roommate, yet her saying this still makes me shed more tears. “I’m leaving in ten days.”
“Don’t waste them.”
I wrap my arms around Kenzie in an aggressive hug that she reciprocates with a stunned pat, and then I move to the door, grabbing my messenger bag on the way out.
KING IS in the shop when I arrive, his face contorted with frustration and focus. His moves aren’t as fluid or graceful as they always have been previously, and I know with certainty that it’s because he’s distracted. It doesn’t take away from the beauty of watching him, however. He is still fearless liquid motion as he moves in impossible ways.
“Dude, you need to take a break. You’re going to break your leg or your bike,” a guy insists when King fails to land the same move for the third time. King scowls at him, but I take it as my cue to move closer.
He notices me at the same time I catch sight of his shirt. It’s a black T-shirt with my logo printed in the center: a large bicycle wheel kicking up mud with spindles that are both iron and feathers. It pinches my heart.
“Can we talk?”
“That depends,” King says, holding his bike beside him, his shin bleeding from hitting the edge of the ramp. “Are we going to discuss how we’re going to make this work, or are you still feeling stubborn?”
“I’m pretty sure you called that my passion and you said it was one of my better attributes.”
“I never said it was one of your better attributes. I said I loved it. But it’s one of your worst attributes when you get so damn stubborn you can’t listen to reason.”
The guy who instructed King to take a break stares at me, clearly trying to interpret the situation and my intentions. “Want to go to Waterfront with me?”
“Now?”
I shrug, my eyes moving back to the man still staring at me. King follows my gaze and then leans his bike against the wall. “Let’s go.”
We ride in silence for the short distance to reach downtown, and I hate that it reminds me so much of two weeks ago after the fashion show.
As King parks, I notice his movements becoming slower. “What happened? Is it us? Your family? School? Italy?”
I take a deep breath, trying so hard to keep eye contact with him rather than look over his shoulder. “I’m so afraid we’re going to hurt each other, King.”
“Stop, Lo.” He turns in his seat to face me, his hand finally extending across the cab to touch my leg. “It’s three months. That’s it.”
“Three mo
nths of you competing in a world you love.”
“And I know you want to be there, and that’s enough for me.”
My eyes fall at the thought. Is that enough? Why have I never considered it like that?
King nods toward the window. “Let’s walk.”
Generally when I walk Waterfront, there are so many people, my mind whirls with images, colors, textures, and infinite other details, but today I see only him. Even the noisy band that I had previously seen people turn their heads toward with a myriad of emotions ranging from joy to annoyance has ceased to exist. This only happens with King. I am exhilarated. Nervous. Inspired by all that is King, because only he is able to make the world disappear.
I’m also terrified, realizing he’s carrying so much more than just my hand. What if he meets someone new? What if this doesn’t work? What will happen to my world?
“We have a little over a week left. I don’t want to waste it.” His eyes close as he shakes his head ever so slightly. “I want to spend every second with you until you’re so sick of me that getting on that plane to Florence is a relief.”
The burn of tears threatens my eyes, but I force a smile on my face and shake my head when I realize the tears are coming regardless of how hard I try to fight them. “That won’t take a full week.”
King’s lips pull up into a smile at my joke, but his eyes are unfocused, reflecting the same emotion I’ve been experiencing since opening my acceptance letter: loss. He wraps his arms around me slowly as though he’s hesitant maybe from rejection, or because also like me, he knows this is the beginning of a short train of good-byes. He pulls me flush against his body, and I feel his heart against my chest, conversing with my own. It’s a crazy and messy mixture of pleas and fears that my heart relays back as I hold on to King with everything inside of me.
The ring of a bicyclist is the only reason we eventually part. Otherwise, I think we would have tested how long we could both go without food or water. His jaw clenches and his eyes close, making my heart thunder and my eyes heat with tears. I understand what he’s feeling; I know it so well. It is as though we are made to be together and time keeps mocking us. It hurts. It hurts like hell.
