Begin Again: Allie and Kaden's Story

by Mona Kasten

  After a while, I closed my eyes and thought back to the last time I’d heard Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard. Music had helped me through so many hard days. Some songs were associated with a specific emotion, and I only needed to hear a few of the first notes to bring that feeling flooding back, no matter where I was. With this song, it was like it had a magic ability to heal me, each and every time.

  “I love this song,” I said, and Kaden winced—his hand shot out and he held it over my mouth. I guess I’d been a bit loud—several people had turned to look our way. After the last notes faded away, I removed the headphones and shook out my hair.

  “After this morning’s trip I wanted to be sure that your taste is still intact.”

  “You only had to put up with two songs by Taylor, so don’t even.”

  I put down my headphones and moved on to an aisle I hadn’t yet explored.

  Kaden walked along the left side, looking through the shelves, while I rummaged through the ones on the right. Whenever either of us found a record we liked, we’d show each other. The new cover of Fall Out Boy had a face on it, and when Kaden held the record up to look at it, he unknowingly held it so that it looked like his body belonged to the head on the cover. I giggled and pulled out my phone to capture the image. When I showed it to him, he insisted on taking a similar photo of me. It didn’t take long before he—with a triumphant grin—found the Ocean Avenue record whose cover featured the face of a girl against the background of the sea and a sunset. Kaden wanted to take the photo, but I insisted that he stand next to me so we could take a selfie. This wasn’t easy, since I couldn’t see what I was doing, and by now I was laughing so hard that I dropped the record and then the phone. But after several tries we managed, and in the end of our impromptu photo session I had not only a cool photo but also a bellyache from laughing.

  By the time we walked back to his mom’s house that evening, it was already dark. Kaden had given me one of the nicest days I’d ever had. Against my own expectations, I realized that spending the holiday here was making me happy.

  Actually, very.

  Chapter 18

  The day had been great, but not the night. I wanted to flee from this strange bed and look for Kaden. I just couldn’t stop thinking. As soon as my eyes closed, I saw him in front of me; his smile, or the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was pondering something. And his kisses. I had to stop these thoughts. Today had been so nice and was further proof that our friendship actually worked.

  Still, my entire body tingled, also in places that had absolutely nothing to do with friendship. With a groan of frustration, I turned on my side and pulled the blanket over my head, as if to deny my improper thoughts or even my body. It didn’t work. Sleep was impossible. I just tossed and turned in Kaden’s childhood bed. At some point I even caught myself sniffing at his pillow to see if it smelled like him.

  We’d come that far. It was pathetic.

  In the morning, the aftereffects were visible in the form of deep rings under my eyes. Grabbing the towel that Rachel had left for me, I headed for the bathroom hoping a shower would wake me. Yellowcard was still running through my head; I hummed while lathering the shampoo. I was just putting shower gel in my hand when the bathroom door opened.

  “Good morning.”

  It was more shocking than the cold water.

  “Get out, Kaden!” I hissed. Luckily the shower curtain wasn’t see-through.

  Kaden laughed. “You didn’t lock it. That’s practically an invitation.”

  Dammit, he was right. I was so used to not having a lock on the bathroom door by now, I’d forgotten to lock this door. “You’re out of your mind, Kaden. Leave!” Now my right eye was burning from the shampoo, and I cursed out loud.

  “Don’t let me disturb you.”

  Kaden turned on the faucet in the sink and began brushing his teeth.

  My refreshing morning shower had taken on a hectic undertone. First I tried to get the soap out of my eye; then soaped myself up in record time, glancing every few seconds at the shower curtain, hoping he couldn’t see through it.

  “I had a lot of fun yesterday,” Kaden mumbled, toothbrush still in his mouth.

  “Me too. But I’d still like to shower in peace. I thought we were clear on stuff like that,” I griped.

  “Don’t make such a big deal out of it, Bubbles.” He laughed.

  That arrogant, little …

  “Kaden? Are you in there?” came Rachel’s voice from the hall.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, my hands flying up to my face. My silent prayer: Please don’t let Rachel come in here, too.

  “Yeah, I’m here.” Kaden seemed unfazed.

  “Does Allie prefer coffee or tea? Or maybe just orange juice?”

  I bit my lower lip.

  “I think Allie would love a cup of coffee.” The water was running again and Kaden spit out the toothpaste. “But you can ask her yourself, Mom. She’s in the shower.”

  “Kaden!” I hissed.

  He laughed again. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”

  And in a few seconds he was out of there.

  I was going to kill him.

  After drying myself off, I slipped into my jeans and a plain shirt and toweled my hair dry. Back in my room, I tucked my nightgown back into my little overnight bag, made the bed, and grabbed my phone before heading downstairs.

  “Good morning, Rachel,” I said, entering the kitchen. “Can I help?” I was trying hard not to reveal how embarrassing the bathroom situation had been.

  Thank goodness Rachel didn’t go there; she just pointed me toward a chair. “No, please: Just join us!”

  Kaden was already at the table. Sliding past him, I boxed him hard on the arm, hoping to knock the ugly grin from his face.

  “You know what that was for,” I growled and took the seat opposite him. His grin hadn’t budged a fraction of an inch. I rolled my eyes and looked instead at the breakfast Rachel had set out: scrambled eggs and fruit salad, bagels, bread and various spreads. She’d arranged it with such care. If Rachel went this far for breakfast, what would tomorrow’s Thanksgiving dinner be like? I could hardly wait.

  “I’m sorry, but it was worth it,” joked Kaden, and I looked back at him. He had leaned back with his arms behind his head, and his eyes were sparkling in amusement.

  “Right. Haha. So funny, I forgot to laugh.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, even though I was about to give in and smile back. But I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction, so instead I pulled my cell phone from my purse to check if Dawn had called. I unlocked the screen and turned to stone.

  Seven missed calls. None were from Dawn.

  It was my mother.

  Hesitating for a second, I erased the list of calls. I couldn’t care less about her drama and threats—I was spending Thanksgiving here, in Portland. Not in Lincoln.

  Just then, as if she knew the phone was in my hand, Mom rang again. With an apologetic glance at Kaden, I got up to leave the kitchen. Once in the hallway, I answered.

  “What do you want?” I barked into the receiver.

  A sobbing came through the line. Uh oh. Mom hardly ever cried. My fingers tightened around the phone, my legs were turning to jelly.

  “Mom?” I probed.

  Again a stifled whimper.

  “Mom, what’s going on?” I now begged. My heart seemed to stand still; I leaned against the wall. “Mom?”

  Kaden came out into the hall. My widened eyes returned his questioning look.

  “It’s your father,” Mom stammered. “Y-y-your father had an accident.”

  My knees would buckle any second now. Suddenly it felt like I was looking at myself from the outside, slumped against the wall, pale, phone pressed to my ear.

  “What happened?” My voice was failing. “Is he okay?”

  “
We just got out of the hospital. You have to come home right away. It doesn’t look good.”

  The phone slipped from my hand; I broke out into a cold sweat and sank to the floor.

  Dad was hurt.

  Mom’s words rang in my year. An accident. It doesn’t look good. You have to come home.

  Now everything was clear. I grabbed my phone and struggled to my feet. Kaden said something, but his words were lost on me.

  “I have to go,” were the words that came from my mouth as I searched on my phone for flights from Portland International Airport to Lincoln Airport. While doing so, I climbed the stairs to Kaden’s room and, for a moment, leaned against the doorframe; then I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, still looking at the phone. My pain felt distant. But my hands shook so much that I couldn’t read the display, no matter how hard I tried. A groan escaped me.

  Kaden’s warm hand closed around my trembling fingers. I looked up at him, wide-eyed. But instead of sobbing as usual, this time I didn’t shed even one tear.

  “What’s the matter, Bubbles?”

  His thumbs ran smooth, soothing circles over the backs of my hands. But the adrenaline coursing through my body wouldn’t let me stand still. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other.

  “You have to tell me what’s going on, Allie. Otherwise, I can’t help you.” Kaden’s deep voice was gentle. As if he were talking to a terrified animal. Maybe that’s how I looked.

  “My dad,” I blurted out.

  “Allie.” Kaden cupped his hands around my cheeks and tipped my head gently backward so our eyes could meet. “What happened?”

  “Accident.” It was hard to speak. “My dad had an accident. I have to go … I have to get to Lincoln. Now.”

  Kaden released me. He grabbed my heavy bag, took my hand and led me down the stairs into the kitchen. He said something to his mother; my thoughts and my pounding pulse drowned out all other sounds around me. A moment later he was back at my side, taking the phone from my hand. Rachel put an arm around my shoulder and urged me toward the door.

  One step at a time.

  My head felt empty. Rachel assured me that everything would be okay, and I nodded mechanically. Now we were standing by Kaden’s Jeep. Somehow my brown boots had gotten onto my feet. Kaden opened the passenger door; I turned again to Rachel, trying to put on a grateful smile—it didn’t work. I must have looked like Joker from Batman. Creepy and crazy.

  “Thank you so much for the invitation, Rachel,” I managed to say. “I’m sorry I have to leave so soon.”

  She said I’d always be welcome and gave me another hug before helping me into the car.

  Kaden buckled my seatbelt like a child; my hands were useless. He hit the gas and pushed the speed limit till we were out of town. After giving me a few minutes to catch my breath, he told me he’d booked a ticket for a flight that left in about forty-five minutes. All I had to do was open the app on my phone and go straight to the terminal.

  Everything flowed past me like fog. All I knew was that, unlike me, Kaden seemed to have the situation under control. But there was no room for shame or any other feeling. Only for worry about my dad. I couldn’t even recall our last conversation, however hard I tried.

  “Stop thinking,” Kaden admonished me.

  He didn’t have to see me to know what was going on in my head. His eyes were focused on the road.

  At the airport, Kaden pulled into a parking spot at an angle. While I was opening my door, he grabbed my bag from the trunk. Then he took me by the arm and guided me to the terminal. Out of breath, we reached the check-in line.

  “Arms up,” he demanded.

  “What?”

  “Lift your arms,” he repeated.

  He was holding his light gray sweater in his hand.

  Kaden slipped it over my head and my outstretched arms; now his familiar scent was enveloping me, and with it came a sense of security.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, as Kaden put the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks.” And because it felt somehow lacking, I repeated myself a few more times.

  “Everything’ll be okay,” Kaden interrupted. He combed his fingers through my hair, which had to be a mess by now. He paused at the back of my head before bending down and pressing his lips against my forehead. Eyes closed, I let the moment sink in. A sense of peace settled over me and I held my breath. The moment passed way too quickly.

  “Now get out of here,” he murmured, nodding toward the check-in counter.

  After one more look into Kaden’s dark eyes, I turned and ran.

  Chapter 19

  Of course there were no direct flights to Lincoln, Nebraska. With a short layover in Denver, it would take about five hours to get there. Sleeping was out of the question, as was sitting still. I would have liked to have burned my pent-up energy somehow, preferably by crying, because I knew I’d feel more peaceful and my thoughts would be clearer afterward. But my body had grown unfamiliar in the last couple of hours. It just didn’t work. I couldn’t even down the water that the flight attendant handed out. My throat was burning, I felt nauseated, and the only thing that helped even a little bit was the smell of Kaden, which surrounded me like a familiar cocoon. I buried my face up to my nose in the soft sweater and pulled the sleeves over my fingertips to hide my trembling.

  Once out of the plane, I wanted to run. But there were too many people streaming toward the exit. On the street, I started looking for a taxi.

  The driver understood the urgency. Traffic was heavy around the airport, but after a few minutes the jam eased up and he stepped on the gas, heading for the affluent area where my parents lived.

  When the driver reached our wide street with its stately homes and stopped, I was on the verge of puking. After throwing money into his lap, I jumped out of the car, took my bag from the trunk, and ran up to our driveway.

  I rang the bell and banged on the massive door before I opened it and stepped inside. My eyes scanned the foyer frantically.

  Right away, I heard someone approaching and murmuring something unintelligible in an annoyed tone.

  “Crystal?” Dad asked, surprised.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. Panting, I stared at him.

  His hair had gone almost completely gray; his hairline had receded even farther. He was wearing a tailored, gray suit complemented by the usual white shirt and dark tie.

  I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. And finally the tears came.

  “You’re okay,” I sobbed.

  Dad patted my back awkwardly. “Why shouldn’t I be?” he asked.

  It’d been so long since I’d heard his voice. He almost sounded like a stranger.

  “What about your accident?” I asked, stepping back and looking for any injuries. I’d thought he’d be lying unconscious in a hospital bed, with a bruised face and bandaged arms. In fact, he looked intact.

  “Oh, that,” answered Dad with a frown. “I tore a ligament on the squash court.”

  Words failed me.

  “You know that Edmund and I sometimes play too hard.”

  “But Mom—” I broke off and swallowed hard. “Mom called me and said you were in an accident,” I choked. “She made it sound really bad.”

  Dad barked out a laugh and then shook his head. He heaved a sigh, then took my bag from my shoulder. “You must’ve misunderstood her.”

  I was stunned. No time to answer back: My father cut that short by stepping aside.

  “Just come in,” he urged me.

  As we walked through the foyer, I noticed he was limping a bit. He set my bag down on the marble floor and headed toward the parlor without looking back. It took great effort for me not to lose my cool.

  On one hand, it was a relief to see that Dad was okay.

  On the other hand, I wanted to kill my mother.

/>   But she was nowhere to be seen.

  Dad plopped down on the white leather sofa and looked at me expectantly. I collapsed in the armchair next to him, taking a moment to collect myself.

  Nothing had changed here. The luxurious decor seemed much more decadent to me now, compared to Woodshill or even Rachel’s home in Portland.

  Dad picked up a carafe of water from the table.

  “Want some?” he asked. I nodded.

  Calmer now, I felt how dry my throat was. I pulled my legs up under me on the chair, then took the full glass and put it to my lips, gulping down the cool water.

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. If Dad found my haircut or lack of manners surprising, he didn’t let on.

  “You know her. Probably getting ready for tomorrow night,” Dad answered.

  Which meant she was at the beauty salon or meeting friends for coffee. Good for her. Because if she were to come through the double-winged door right now, there was no telling what I’d do.

  “So you only came because you thought I was on my deathbed?” asked my father, taking a sip of water and putting the glass back down on the table.

  “Mom cried on the phone,” I said, avoiding his question.

  Dad raised both eyebrows. “She’d do anything to get you to the gala.”

  I just snorted in response. To be honest, there was nothing to say. “But your leg is okay, right?” I finally asked.

  “It’s good to know that my daughter cares about me and comes right away if she thinks something happened to me,” he said with a pinched smile.

  “Don’t be that way, Dad. Of course I care, and you know it,” I shot back.

  “Really?” he asked, leaning back.

  I sighed. Now he was making a dig about my having left home. “Wanting to be on my own doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

  Even if it might be better to care a bit less. Less pain that way.

  Dad’s expression didn’t soften. “It would have been nice if you’d gotten in touch once in a while. Voluntarily,” he added, when he saw my mouth open.