When I awoke the next time, it was morning, and though mom had breakfast ready, Bastiaan hadn't returned yet. That wasn't like him. I guessed he just got a little preoccupied with Bobby, and lost track of time…
Eewwww.
I pushed the image that brought forth into the deepest corner of my mind, never ever to be thought of again even under threat of death, and wandered downstairs in my socked feet. The idea of your brother having sex is just not something you need any time of the day, much less first thing in the morning, right before breakfast.
"Morning, mom," I said, kissing her cheek as I sat at the table.
"Good morning, AJ. Your father's already eaten and is out taking care of the horses, and Bastiaan isn't home yet, so it's just us this morning."
I grinned. "Okay."
"Tell me something," she said, after a few minutes, and I started, but agreed. "You've met Bobbi, haven't you?"
"Yeah," I confirmed, as I remembered how to breathe. I felt sure she was going to ask me something about Kevyn, that I hadn't been as careful as I thought, that she'd found out… but, no, she was only asking about my brother.
"Yeah, I met her," the word sounded strange in my mouth, as I knew it to be a lie, but continued on, "she seems really nice. And she really likes Bastiaan."
She seemed to look a little more at ease. I guessed she'd been worried about that. "I just wonder why he hasn't brought her home, yet," she mused, and I shrugged as I finished my cereal, and stood.
"I'm sure he will soon." Suddenly I just couldn't lie to her anymore. If she asked me anything else, I was sure to tell her the truth about Bobby, or Kevyn, or both of them. I rinsed my bowl in the sink, and told her I was going to go see how Diane was doing, and how Kevyn's Christmas had been. Mom asked if I would be back soon, and I said I didn't think so.
I called Kevyn from my room as I got dressed, putting on several layers, as the radio DJ forecasted the weather to only get worse as the day progressed, and mentioned to her that my mom said it was okay if I went over.
"Be careful driving, baby," was all she said, and I heard paper rustling in the background, and figured she was busy.
"See you in a few minutes," I promised, hanging up and slipping on my jacket before grabbing her gift and heading out the door. The main road had been cleared by the plow, and was still a little slippery, but the chains on the tires did fine, and I was standing at the front step of the Gibb's residence just about twenty minutes after I'd told my mom I was leaving.
I had barely rung the doorbell when the door opened and Kevyn literally pulled me inside, exclaiming, "Get in here out of that cold, baby." I chuckled, and wrapped my arms around her in a hello hug. She returned the embrace, and kissed my cheek, leading me to her room.
"I was wrapping this when you called," she said, and when I saw the large package on her bed, I instantly felt bad. The gift I'd gotten her was small enough to fit in my pocket, and here was this big present she'd gotten for me…
Her laugh was gentle, her eyes bright as she tugged on my hand and pulled me down to sit beside her. "Well, are you going to open it, sweetheart?"
I nodded, and removed the paper, revealing a beautiful case full of pastels and charcoals and colored pencils. I sat in silence for a moment, just staring, and then looked up to see that she was anxiously awaiting my response, biting her lip softly.
"It's wonderful, honey," I said, honestly, and kissed her. "Thank you so much. I love it."
"That's your birthday present," she explained, telling me, "I know you don't think much of your work, baby, but I do. And I asked my dad what to get an aspiring artist, and this was his suggestion."
I blushed at the praise, and was about to give her the small present I'd bought for her, when she handed me a card in an envelope.
"And this is your Christmas gift. It's just a card, I know, but…"
My heart was pounding as I looked at the beige envelope in my hand. How did I get out of this one? I tried the first thing that came to my mind.
"I'm sure it's perfect, and I'll open it later, honey. Right now, I…"
"Oh, Nikka, will you open it now, please?"
I bowed my head, and carefully tore open the envelope, giving her a small grin as I did, hoping she would take the subtle hint that I would rather not read it right now. When I made a comment about, "Okay, I opened it," she laughed and bumped my knee with hers.
"Silly. Go on, read it."
It almost felt as though the card burned my fingers as I removed it. Seeing the beautiful snow scene on the front, I opened it to find typed words on one side, and flowing letters from Kevyn's hand on the other.
"I can't read this," I swallowed, after glancing at them for a moment. Given enough time, I could probably make out what was written by the card company, but cursive was the worst for me. It was so hard to differentiate the letters when I couldn't even pick them apart, figuring out where one began and the other ended.
She chuckled at me again, taking one of my hands in both of hers. "Come on, I know my handwriting's not that bad," she smiled, and I pulled my hand away, feeling ill. She paused, and looked at me. "Nikka?"
"I can't read this," I said, again. I took a breath.
"It's no different then the letters…" she began, but I couldn't let her finish.
I sprang to my feet with a soft cry, and admitted, "I can't read those either!"
Her tone was flat, and I couldn't tell whether it was with pity or anger, but I would soon find out. "What?"
My chest felt heavy and I knew I was close to crying. "I'm dyslexic, Kevyn. I haven't read any of your letters you've sent. I might be able to read what's typed on the card, but it would take me a long time, and even if I had a week, I probably wouldn't be able to read what you wrote here."
Green eyes just stared at me, and I couldn't read her expression. I think that scared me more than anything.
"Then how did you know what I've written before?"
I ducked my head. "Bastiaan. He reads things for me."
"Your brother has been reading everything I've written for you?" Now I could read nothing from her voice except anger, and nodded, closing my eyes. "How long were you going to keep this from me?" And then, I opened my eyes long enough to see green lightning aimed at me as she spat, "I hope Bastiaan got a kick out of reading those letters that I meant for only you!"
I flinched. "Kevyn…"
She held her hand up, and I fell quiet. "No, don't talk to me. I don't even want to see you right now, Annika." I knew without a doubt that if I left, I'd never see her again. I was so sure that it was over. That was the last thing I wanted to happen, so even as my heart pulled painfully at the harshness of her words, I kneeled beside her.
"Kevyn, please…"
"Just don't."
Now I could feel the tears as they ran down my face. She wouldn't even look at me. I clutched at her hand, but she drew away from me. "Kevyn," I choked, begging.
"Go." She looked at me then, and I felt my heart break for the pain in her eyes, the pure betrayal. "Please, go." She turned away, again, but I saw the first tear as it fell, and sat back on my heels.
I swallowed, though my throat was dry, and I nearly started coughing. "Don't make me go, Kevyn," I pleaded. "Please, I'm so sorry, let me stay. I don't want to lose you."
She stood so suddenly that I fell backwards. "You should have thought of that before you lied to me," she cried, taking the card from the desk where I had lain it down and throwing it across to the other end of the room. I felt it hit the wall deep in my soul, as though it had been a blow to my chest.
Finally understanding that there was nothing I could do to make it better, I scrambled out of her room and ran to my truck. I was in no condition to drive, and even if I could have left, I couldn't have gone home. My mom would take one look at me and demand to know what was wrong, and I couldn't tell her. My brother was out with the one he loved, I'd just lost mine, and I couldn't even find comfort with my own mother.
I slumped against the steering wheel and cried.
I cried, and cried, until I remembered my dream of the night before. What had I just done? I'd turned and walked away. All this time, she'd been asking me to trust her, and I didn't. I didn't think I could. And now I'd left.
I'm going to go back and she's going to be gone, I know it, I sobbed. I'll never see her again, never hold her, never kiss her, and it's all my fault.
But I had to try.
I didn't even bother knocking on the door. I had no idea if Diane was asleep or if Patrick was home, but all I knew was I had to see Kevyn, had to talk to her. I walked down the hall to her room and tried the knob, but she'd locked the door.
I knocked.
I heard her sniffling, but other than that, there was no reply.
I knocked again. "Kevyn?" I had to show her that I did trust her. I had to take that step, and keep walking. There was no other option.
"No, Annika. Just leave me alone."
"I can't," I admitted, leaning my forehead against the wood. "I can't go. Please, don't ask me to leave. You said I could always talk to you, honey, please, let me talk now. I know I should have told you sooner, but can I explain? Kevyn, please?"
In a moment, she unlocked the door and opened it, and I met her gaze, both of our eyes red and swollen. She was clutching my shirt to her chest, and my knees nearly went out from under me at the amount of hurt and sadness that filled her eyes.
"I'm sorry," was all I could say at the moment, and she just blinked up at me. "Can I… can I talk to you? I want to tell you everything, honey. No more secrets, no more lying, I swear."
She still didn't say anything, but walked inside, pulled out her desk chair, and then sat on her bed. I assumed the chair was for me, and closed the door before sinking into it. Taking a deep breath, I kept my promise, and told her everything.
I told her how, when I was young, I was always getting in trouble, both at home and at school, for being disruptive. The teachers said I bothered the other kids, I talked in class when I was supposed to be listening, and often I'd be drawing pictures rather than taking notes. When this information was sent home to my parents, I got in trouble at home, too.
Of course, all this just made me even more frustrated. It seemed like the teacher always called on me for the hard parts of the story to read, and when I asked the kids next to me for help, I got in trouble. If I tried to sound out the words, the teachers became impatient, even if they tried not to show it, and the others laughed at my struggles with what they found to be so simple. When the letters switched on me, and I pronounced the wrong word correctly, more snickers followed, and I always blushed.
My parents wanted to help me study at home, and my brother tried too, but too much studying and reading and trying to get my spelling lists right only lead to headaches. The more my head hurt, the more irritable I became, and my parents started murmuring to each other when they thought I couldn't hear, "Why isn't she more like Bastiaan?"
This went on for several years, until my fifth grade teacher finally called me to stay after school one day, and gave me a small book, asking me to read from it. At first I refused, but when she insisted, I huffed a sigh and stared at the pages. I could make out a few words before I got tired of it and pushed the book away in anger. It was enough, though, and she called a meeting with my parents, telling them she wondered if I might have a learning problem. She noticed, she said, that I played well with the other children, and that during recess I often stayed in the room to create things with the building blocks, or to draw quietly in my seat. The other teachers that had marked me as disruptive and one that caused problems just hadn't taken the time to really look at me.
I was ten before my parents took me to be tested, and sure enough, the doctors or whoever they were said I was dyslexic. When my mom explained it to me, she said that it meant I didn't read things the same way as other people, and sometimes the letters would switch places, and I had a hard time remembering how to spell words… it was like all the things I'd been having trouble with suddenly found a name, and I wasn't just stupid, after all.
Special programs and teachers were employed at that point, and I struggled through classes for another year, until sixth grade. I just gave up. The kids were still cruel and didn't want to understand, and the few friends I had made no attempt at encouraging me to stay. They knew I wanted out, and why, and wanted it to happen. I wasn't happy in school. My only memories were of teasing, headache, heartaches, and being sent to time-out for something I couldn't overcome.
I tried my best, and my parents saw that. They also saw that my life wasn't in books. I just wasn't like my brother, that's all there was to it. He would be the book smart twin, the one that went on to do bigger and better things, but me? All I wanted in life was at the ranch. I had no dreams beyond working with the horses and keeping my dogs company, and I was happy with that.
So, I finished sixth grade, but never went on to seventh. I left school to help my dad with the ranch, learning from him, and beginning to genuinely smile again. I felt most comfortable on the land, with the animals. It wasn't as though I was isolated; I had a few friends that I kept in touch with from school, though in the end, Stacey was the only one who I truly called "friend". The others moved away without so much as a new address or simply drifted out of my life.
My dad came home with Hamlet, about a month after I'd been out of school. He became my best companion, since most of my time was spent at home. I could pretend to read to him, and he didn't know any different, he didn't laugh. I talked with him often, and was thrilled when I discovered I could teach him to speak.
"I can read and write a little," I said, still running my mouth to Kevyn, "but not much. My dad will read the newspaper to me sometimes, but usually I just listen to the radio or watch the news on TV. I do okay with math, especially if I don't have to look at the numbers, if I can work them in my head. My brain just processes things differently, you know."
Here I sighed, lightly. "I didn't want to tell you, because most people don't understand, and I get treated differently for it. And I didn't want you to pity me. You're so smart, Kevyn, so intelligent and good with school, I didn't want to say anything and make you think less of me. But I should have told you. Bastiaan told me right away that I should have told you. I'm sorry."
I had moved steadily closer to her the whole time I was talking, and now sat quite near her on the bed.
"I still don't want you to feel bad for me; I just want you to understand. You deserve to understand. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before," I said, and just kept staring at the place where the card had fallen. The redhead beside me was still silent, and I knew that I had done all I could, and failed. My first relationship, with the most wonderful person I could ever imagine, the only relationship I wanted, and I'd screwed it up. And the day after Christmas, no less.
The tears came back. "I'm sorry I ruined us," I managed to say, and made a move as if to get to my feet so I could just slink away and Kevyn would never have to look at me again, but then I felt her hand on my arm.
She was looking at me, really seeing me, I mean, for the first time in probably two hours. I paused, not wanting to do anything to make her turn away again.
"One fight… and you think it's over?"
My heart gave a painful thud of hope. I started shaking. "It isn't? We aren't?"
"No, baby." She drew me close, and I cried into her shoulder, realizing that it was the first time she'd held me as I sobbed, instead of vice versa. For all her small size, I felt safer than I would have ever thought, and tried to get my breathing under control as she rubbed my back.
"Are you okay?" she asked, kissing my forehead when I'd stopped shaking. I kept her hand held tightly in mine, and nodded, just slightly. "Hey, talk to me, beautiful. Are you all right?"
I sniffled. "I thought…"
Though once I started talking she didn't let me finish. "I know," she interrupted, gently. "I'm sorry I scared you."
I shook my head. "It was my fault. I'm sorry."
She smiled softly and I almost started crying all over again. I leaned into her touch when she brushed my cheek with the back of her hand, saying, "How about we're both sorry, and we declare this argument over?"
"That sounds good," I nodded, and hesitantly reached over to pick up the card from the floor. Handing it to her, I requested, quietly, "Will you tell me what you wrote?"
Not taking the card from me, she motioned for me to open it, and I did, slightly confused. Did she expect me to try to sound it out and try to read it in front of her?
No. She leaned close to me, instead, resting her chin on my shoulder, telling me the words in a soft tone.
"Nikka," she began, "this has been one of the most enjoyable Christmases I've ever had, and I have you to thank for it. You mean so much to me, baby. I know you're scared; my feelings for you are stronger than your fears. Trust me. Trust me, and I won't ever let you fall. I promise. Always, Kevyn."
I wrapped an arm around her and hugged her to me so tightly I was sure I'd never let go. Her words, so close to the ones I'd imagined her saying in my dream and the words her mother had said just a few days before, were almost eerie, and yet exactly what I needed to hear.
"I trust you," I said, and that was enough.
We spent the next several hours just talking, lying on her bed side by side, holding hands, holding each other, as we emptied our souls. I'd never imagined that there was someone out there that I could tell anything and everything to, that I could trust with all my secrets, someone that would want to know.
But, here she was. Listening. Really listening, because she cared. She said she wanted to know everything about me, anything I wanted to tell her. There was nothing that could make her turn away, she promised.
So, I told her everything. I told her how I used to be jealous of my brother, the time I got caught trying to steal something from the store when I was eight (the first and last time I went into that store), and how I'd love to be able to read like she and my brother could. I explained that I'd never been in a relationship before her, and tried to put words to all the feelings, worry and fear and joy and everything else. I told her what Stacey had said, back when I had gone to her for help.
Finally, I even admitted what thoughts had caused my attitude with her the few nights before, regarding our intimacy, or my perceived lack thereof.
She kissed my shoulder, and said, "Life isn't written from a book, sweetheart. We all make our own chapters, with our own reasons and our own experiences." She moved out from under me, then - I'd been lying in her arms - and got to her feet. My instant thought was to panic, but quelled that urge when she turned and ran her fingers through my hair.
"Stay here, baby. I'll be right back, I promise."
I nodded, and while she was gone, took the time to look around her room. The first night I'd been here, when she'd taken me down the hall to introduce me to the dogs, I had only glanced around briefly. I'd seen her desk, which, while much like mine, was used for writing instead. I'd seen her bed, with the thick comforter that I was sure kept her warm; indeed, that I had pulled to her chin a few times as I tucked her in.
Now, taking a better look, I saw a few knick knacks setting on her desk, or bookcase, and some sort of colorful chain hanging from the light of her ceiling fan. Several pictures had been tacked up on the corkboard on the wall above the bookcase, and I assumed they were of her friends from California. A calendar was next to it, open to January, already, with pictures that piqued my interest. It was mostly black and white, various scenes, but then the stripes of the zebra, or the steps of the path, were painted in a sudden splash of rainbow.
I liked it, and made a mental note to ask Kevyn where she'd gotten it.
A few posters covered the rest of her walls, two of a young blonde woman in a rather skimpy costume, though she was very attractive. She looked a little similar to Kevyn, I thought, but would need the fiery red hair and deep green-gold eyes to come close. The others showed a woman with dark hair, wearing leather and armor, although there was one with her clad in some gold armor that covered less than the blonde's outfit. If my eyes and hair were a little darker, I mused, we wouldn't look that different.
Kevyn returned then, and chuckled when she saw the posters that had my gaze. The tray of crackers, cheese, and vegetables she'd carried in was set on the small table by the bed.
"I thought you might be a little hungry," was her explanation, and I had her sit beside me on the bed before we started snacking.
While we ate, it was her turn to talk. She told me that she'd been dating girls for about two years before she came out to her parents, but they were very supportive and even told her they'd known for a while. The times she would come home upset and blame it on a bad day at school, they both knew it was a break-up. All this, and they never confronted her, they just let her tell them when she was ready.
She called that being lucky, and I had to agree.
She'd always done fairly well in school, and after she got her associates, she told me of her plans to go on and try to make a career out of her writing as she continued college. She'd been writing since she was young; little things, articles for the school paper, then a few for the local paper, and a few of her poems had been accepted into magazines.
"I know you can do it," I assured her, and then asked if she might read me some of the things she'd written. She said she would. I realize now, it never happened.
Then came her relationship history, which she said she told me not to make me jealous, and if I started comparing myself to any of them she was going to stop talking right then, but she wanted me to understand. How could I say no? I only wanted the same thing.
"The first few girls I dated were only interested in experimenting," she said, and I frowned to myself. "Our relationships never lasted very long. Still, it was hard on me when we broke up, and it wasn't long after I came out to my parents that I just stopped looking…
"Then, in my junior year of high school, I met Tamara. We were both in speech class, and the teacher paired us up for practice a few minutes every day. We started talking before and after class, and then, I was inviting her to the movies and she was asking me to dinner. Everyone in class knew, soon, and while the teacher didn't care, a few of the other students gave us strange looks at first.
"We were together well into my senior year, and then, I don't know, it's like everything started going wrong all at once. I started my night classes at the college the same week mom was diagnosed, and I spent three days in a row calling Tamara, trying to get a hold of her since I took a few days out of school to go to doctor visits and such with my mom. But she never returned my calls. The following week when I was back in class, a mutual friend from speech pulled me aside beforehand, and told me we needed to talk.
"She said that while I'd been gone, Tamara had been all over Lucas, the football player that was sitting in class for credits. I didn't want to believe her. I told her she was just jealous, and wasn't being very kind. But then I walked in, and I guess no one was expecting me back so soon, as they'd all heard, because they looked surprised to see me. Even Lucas and the teacher looked shocked, but Tamara just stared at me from where she was sitting, draped across Lucas' lap.
"And started laughing. She laughed, and laughed, and I finally figured out that wasn't the first time she'd been with James. Or a number of other guys, I learned later."
I was furious, and interrupted her story. "Why would she do that?"
The gentle voice caught a little, and I realized this still hurt her. "Because she could," was the only answer she could come up with. "I don't know. Lucas didn't know about us, but the others did, and they would joke about how 'hung-up' I was with Tamara, and start taking bets on how long it would take me to figure it out. Everything that I said to her, all the things I thought were private and just between us… she joked about with everyone once I left the room."
I suddenly understood why she had been so angry when I'd told her Bastiaan had read the letters, and hugged her to me with all my strength.
"Baby, it's all right," she smiled against my cheek, knowing the reason for my embrace. "It's not the same thing at all. But, you know, now."
I nodded, moving the tray of food away so I could kiss her, and kiss her deeply enough to take the hurtful memories away, at least for a little while. It worked, or at least, we stopped talking for a time, and it didn't take long before we found ourselves in a familiar position.
She didn't pull away, this time, nor did she ask me if I was sure. She was right, life wasn't at all like books. She trusted me enough to tell her if I was uncertain, just as I trusted her enough not to have to say a word. Her parents must have been out, I hadn't heard anything from either of them all day, and the door was closed. We'd talked ourselves out, there was nothing left between us that could be said in words.
All this passed in a single instant as I looked into her eyes, and she went to kiss me again, pressing gently with her thigh until I couldn't keep track of what she was doing. Was she kissing my lips, my neck, my shoulders…? I wasn't sure. There was this burning and tingling all over my body that I had no chance of narrowing down. My hands moved up her sides, without my realizing quite what I was doing, until I heard her give a gasp that was half-moan, and felt my hands brush against her breasts as the pressure between my legs increased.
And then I was removing her shirt, and kissing whatever skin I could reach, trembling for the second time that day. Suddenly, my own pleasure, easing the throbbing I felt, wasn't nearly that important. I just wanted to hear that sound from her throat again. I moved until she was beneath me, and kissed her neck in the way I knew she liked, and kept moving down her throat, to her chest, until her sighs and moans were indistinguishable from my own, and all I knew was that there was nothing beyond this.
Somehow, some time later, we were both under the covers - I was right, the comforter was very warm - while our clothes occupied various spots on the floor. She was curled up against my side, both of us quite pleasantly exhausted. I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me, however. I barely had the energy to open my eyes and glance at the clock, seeing it was nearly five in the evening, and yet, every time her breath caressed my neck, I felt it much further down.
I groaned to myself. This couldn't be possible. I was too tired to think about moving, and yet all I wanted to do was make love to her again.
Her fingers began tracing my stomach, suddenly, and my muscles jumped.
She chuckled, kissing my arm. "Some deep thoughts up there, sweetheart?"
I blushed, though she couldn't see me, and simply kissed the top of her head.
"What are you thinking about?" she insisted, gently, and I wondered if she might be worried that I was having second-thoughts, that I was having regrets.
The first thing that came to my mind to reassure her, making it past my lips before I could censor it, was, "I love you." My breath caught, and I waited for her response. She raised herself up on her elbow, eyes that were nearly all green as she looked at me, seriously, before kissing my lips.
"I love you, too, Nikka." We kissed again, and it was a little while later when she commented, "This necklace is beautiful," referring to my gift from Bastiaan. I was sure she'd noticed it before, but was too distracted to mention it just then.
I smiled, rubbing her knee, which was draped over my own leg. "Bastiaan got it for me." An idea struck me, and I reached my arm down to the floor, stretching to grab my jeans from where they'd fallen. Digging into my pocket, I withdrew the small box, and handed it to her with a sheepish grin.
"Merry Christmas."
She laughed a little as she unwrapped it. Seeing the small jewelry box, she glanced up at me, almost warily. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but urged her to open it. With one last look to me, she opened the lid, and took a breath when she saw the locket. I hoped that was a good sign.
"It's a locket," I explained rather needlessly, in my fear that she wouldn't like it, "you can open it and put two pictures inside." Of course, she opened it just then and looked, seeing that I'd already put a photo on either side. I squirmed under the intense gaze that followed. "Your mom gave me the picture," I said, referring to the one of her father and mother, taken before the cancer hit, and it was obvious that Kevyn looked very much like Diane, "and Stacey let me scan it on her computer." The one on the opposite side was of me, from the same picture she'd seemed so taken with on the mantle.
"But you can put whatever you want in it," I rambled, "and, um, I think I still have the receipt if…"
I felt fine red hair brush against my cheek as she hugged me. "It's beautiful, baby. Now I can carry my favorite people close to my heart, always. Will you help me put it on?" I did, with fingers that were still shaking a little, and set the box aside, by our half-empty tray of food.
I'm not exactly sure when we fell asleep after that, I only know that when I woke up, it was dark outside. A glance at the clock did me no good, as the power must have gone off due to the storm, and was now flashing numbers at me that I knew couldn't be right. Being careful not to bother Kevyn, who was still sleeping, I raised my arm and looked at my watch.
I sighed to myself, and Kevyn shifted, snuggling deeper into my side, her head on my right shoulder, arm thrown across my chest to the other, legs entangled in mine. I had no idea how I'd slept, much less so comfortably. But, I had.
Until eight-thirty at night.
The last thing I wanted to do was leave… ever. But I knew I'd have to go sometime, and my parents would probably be worried if I didn't at least call soon. Maybe I could claim a late dinner and stay a little longer.
When I started looking around for my clothes, a voice mumbled against my chest, "You're not leaving, are you?"
I kissed the top of her head. "It's late, honey. I at least have to call my parents, and the idea of walking around your house naked is not high on my list of things to do tonight," I joked, and she kissed my neck.
"But it's first on mine," she grinned, and laughed softly at my blush, continuing to kiss me until I very nearly decided to forget what I had to do.
"Kevyn," I ground out, reluctantly stopping her, and she sighed dramatically.
"You're no fun," she pouted.
I couldn't resist. Leaning down to kiss her nose, I teased, "Oh, really?"
It was her turn to blush, and I smiled gently before sitting up, holding the covers to my chest. Now, how did one go about searching a room for one's clothes, without walking around completely naked, first?
Kevyn got to her feet before I had come to a solution, and tossed a robe in my direction. I put it on, realizing too late that it was her size, and raised an amused eyebrow at her. The sleeves barely reached my elbows, and the end just covered my knees.
She thought it was the funniest thing she'd seen, and almost couldn't tie the belt to her own robe, she was laughing so hard. I didn't think it was all that comical, and as I walked past her to pick up my shirt, I tugged on one end of the belt, undoing her robe and letting it fall open.
The playful smack to my rear end was something I was not expecting, and I yelped at the contact, spinning around.
"You…" I growled, wrapping an arm around her. She didn't seem the least bit scared, however, and happily kissed my chin. One kiss turned into two, and two into seven, and… well… you know. She was making it very difficult for me to want to leave, and I told her as much.
"That was the idea, sweetheart."
I shook my head at her, taking a small step back before I could stop myself. How on earth was I going to survive around this woman? I didn't know. Could you spontaneously combust from passion? I think Kevyn wanted to find out.
By the time I managed to get fully dressed, almost an hour had passed. Kevyn walked into the living room with me when I went to get the phone, and when I mentioned that I hadn't seen either of her parents that day, she chuckled and said that was because they weren't in.
"Mom said she wanted to get out of the house, so Dad made hotel reservations for tonight. I know she's probably just sleeping, but I'm glad she wanted to get out some. That's a good sign." I kissed her shoulder, agreeing, and motioned for her to be quiet as I called my mom.
"Hello?" I winced when my dad answered.
"Hi, dad, it's me," I said, and Kevyn watched my face as I spoke.
"AJ," he sighed, "it's late. You missed dinner."
I nodded. "I know, but I told mom I wasn't sure when I'd be back. I'm sorry I didn't call before, I just lost track of the time when the power went out."
"You come on home now, AJ. We've got a lot to do around here in the next few days. I don't think you'll have time to see that girl for a while," he said, and I looked at the woman beside me, who raised an eyebrow, wondering what was being said on the other end of the line.
"But, dad, I…"
"No. Dinner's waiting."
Click.
It took me a moment to realize that he'd hung up on me, and I let out a heavy sigh.
"My dad says I have to go," I told Kevyn, putting the phone back on the coffee table, and she slipped her fingers through mine. "I don't think I'll be able to see you for a couple days, he says we have 'a lot to do'."
I felt her kiss my shoulder. "All right, baby. Call me when you can." I was surprised she was so calm about not being able to see each other. I was angry with my dad, though I knew I couldn't show it, because as far as my parents were concerned, I didn't have a reason to be upset. Kevyn was just my friend. How was a few days working on the ranch going to interfere with a friendship?
I nuzzled her neck. "I'm sorry."
"Baby, it's all right," she repeated, running her fingers through my hair. "I'm going to miss you like crazy, and my bed's going to feel awful empty, but I understand. Much as I'd love it, I can't have you all to myself," she smiled, and I sighed, again.
I wanted that, too.
"Maybe if my dad is happy with whatever it is we have to do in the next little while, they'll let me spend New Year's over here," I mused, and Kevyn kissed the edge of my jaw.
"There you go, sweetheart. Now, go on and get home. The sooner you get everything done over there, the sooner we can be together again," was her rationale, and I had to agree.
"I love you," I said, and kissed her.
"And I love you, Nikka. Drive safely. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night, and sweet dreams."
I didn't blush at that comment, but responded with a smile, "You better believe it. Sleep well, honey." I made sure I had my gift and card from her, and hadn't left anything behind, and then I was walking out the door into the snow. The storm was packing a heavy punch, and it took me a while to get home, even with the four-wheel drive and chains on the tires.
Whatever dad had planned for the next while, I knew it wouldn't include much time outside, though regardless of what we were doing, I had a feeling the only thing my mind would be focused on would be getting back to Kevyn as soon as possible.
I was right. Dad and I spent almost the entire week inside, going over more paperwork, as he explained to me the "ins and outs" of running the ranch. I knew about the animals, but he went into more detail about the boundaries of our land, dealings with the vet if any of the animals were sick, breeding the horses… My brain was on overload after just a few hours. I knew it took a lot to run the ranch, but I had no idea it was all so complicated.
I was glad I wouldn't have to worry about everything by myself. He offered scenario after scenario to see what I would do if I had to take care of it, and seemed pleased with my answers. Then I learned the cost of everything, how to arrange the prices so we made a profit, and so on.
It wasn't until the third day that I got a chance to call Kevyn. Every other night after my dad and I were finished in the den, I just fell into bed, too exhausted to even dream. When I did call her, the conversation only lasted a few minutes before she told me to hang up and go to sleep, threatening to hang up on me if I didn't.
"I just miss you," I protested, with a yawn that I couldn't hide.
"I know, baby, and I miss you, too. But you need your sleep, all right? We'll talk again tomorrow, or whenever you get a chance. I love you."
"I love you, too." And then the line was dead. I returned the phone to its base and realized she was right, I was too tired to talk. Three minutes later, I was sound asleep.
New Year's Eve came around, and I asked my mom that afternoon if I could stay the night with Kevyn. Her mom wasn't doing too well, the cancer was spreading, which was true, although I was the only one who knew it, and said I wanted to be there for her. The idea of a girl as young as Kevyn losing her mother pulled at my own mom's heart, I knew, and she gave in.
"All right, AJ," she nodded, "you can go. Just come back early in the morning, okay? I'd like your help in making breakfast." I promised I'd be back in plenty of time, and called Kevyn before rushing out the door, zipping my heavy coat as I went, trying to fend off the cold of the snow. It had been sprinkling a light snow continuously for the past two days, and was supposed to get even worse by the end of the week. There was no sign of the storm ending for some time, reported the weatherman on the radio.
I had dinner with the Gibb's, cooking for them again, a meal which they all said they enjoyed. Diane was smiling even more than usual, and though she seemed to be weaker, I noticed a glow about her. I thought maybe she was doing better, and that certainly brought my spirits up. She ate quite a bit of the meal, which made Patrick and Kevyn happy.
I cleared the table, and everyone else went into the living room to listen to the countdown and watch the ball drop. I brought in a few glasses of eggnog after I was done, and sat on the floor beside Kevyn, while her mother and father sat on the couch, all of us enjoying the company immensely. We brought the New Year in with a soft kiss, mindful of her parents just beside us, though if we would have cared to look, I'm sure they were doing the same.
Diane went to bed directly after that; honestly, I was surprised she had managed to stay up until midnight. Kevyn told me later that she had slept until just before I came, because she wanted to stay up through the countdown.
I was a little tired myself, and had told Kevyn already that my mom wanted me home early the next morning, so we turned in a few minutes after her parents. I changed in the bathroom, and walked into the bedroom wearing my usual flannel pants and A-shirt, finding that Kevyn was already under the blankets. I slipped in beside her, intent on only sleeping as it seemed that she was tired.
Her hands moved and I quickly realized she didn't want to sleep. We made love, quietly because her parents were home this time, but it was still just as amazing. Trying not to be too loud, as we were, the small whimpers she couldn't keep back seemed magnified ten times over - to more than just my ears.
There was that threat of spontaneous combustion, again, but I survived. We slept, then, as close together as we could possibly be. Almost as if our bodies knew what was going to happen, and thought we could ward it off by staying in each other's arms forever.
If only.
* * * * *
I awoke at six the next morning, still feeling a little tired, not wanting to get out of bed and leave the warmth of Kevyn's body next to mine, but knowing I'd promised my mom I'd be back for breakfast. Which would probably start in the next half hour or so. I climbed out of bed carefully and dressed, trying to make as little sound as possible, even as I zipped my jeans or buttoned my coat.
I kissed her forehead and tiptoed to the door, but her voice stopped me.
"You're going?" she asked, in mid-yawn, one green eye open and staring at me.
I turned, and reminded, "I have to, sweetheart. I promised mom I'd be back to help her cook."
She nodded, and snuggled back under the covers, calling, "Okay, baby. I love you. Call you later."
"I love you, too," I replied, chuckling, knowing she was asleep before I even started brushing the snow and ice from the windshield of the truck.
I made it home and took my shoes off, hanging up my coat and sweatshirt since the fire in the fireplace was dutifully keeping the house warm, heading directly to the kitchen. My timing was perfect, I grinned to myself, as my mom was just beginning to mix the pancake batter.
She instructed me to start washing the strawberries, and I did as I was told, feeling her eyes on me the whole time. I shifted, a little uncomfortable, wondering what she was looking at.
"AJ," she said, finally coming near, "what is that on your neck?"
I blinked. "Huh?" My hand automatically went to my throat, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Had I scratched it or something? Or maybe there was a bug?
"It looks like… a hickey."
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, and then focused on the strawberries again, willing myself not to blush. If I'd ever not wanted to blush, that was the time. I had to come up with a convincing story, all the while managing not to let my cheeks flush or my voice crack, or it would give me away.
"It's just a bruise," I said. "Hamlet bit me the other night; I was playing a little too rough I guess."
My mother didn't look quite convinced. "I didn't notice it last night."
I shook my head, finishing the last of the berries and turning the water off. "Probably because I had my sweatshirt on. It doesn't hurt too bad anymore, he didn't break the skin," I said, going along with my lie, feeling bad but knowing I didn't have any other choice. "I put him back in his cage right away, to let him know he's not supposed to do that. It's all right."
Being thus dismissed, my mom went back to her side of the kitchen, where she was also starting the veggie bacon slices, and I told myself that I did indeed remember how to breathe.
Oh, that was too close for my comfort, I decided, and made a mental note to make sure there weren't any incriminating marks left the next time I was with Kevyn, but got sidetracked when my brother entered the kitchen.
"Hey, AJ, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, and I paused.
"Sure," I drawled, confused. Telling mom I'd be right back to keep an eye on the pancakes she'd just placed on the griddle, I followed my twin into the den, watching him close the doors and begin to pace nervously.
I was puzzled. "Bastiaan, what's going on?"
He stopped. "Today, Annika. It's today."
I raised an eyebrow. "Well, of course it is. It wouldn't be tomorrow or yesterday, now would it?"
Apparently now was not the time for jokes.
"I mean, it's today. I'm going to tell mom and dad today."
Oh, that today.
"Bobby asked me to move in with him, and I said yes. I already started packing last night. But I want to tell mom and dad today, before I start moving boxes out and they wonder why," he explained.
"Is Bobby going to be here?"
He shook his head. "I told him I could move everything by myself, or maybe you would help. I don't want him here. I don't think it would be a good idea."
I nodded. For all his nerves, at least he seemed to be thinking clearly.
"Of course I'll help, Bastiaan. This is what you want?" He nodded, that same stupid grin covering his face that I now knew without a doubt spread across mine when my thoughts so often turned to Kevyn. "Then I'm happy for you two. Let's get through breakfast, and then you can tell them, okay? I'll be there." I had promised. I had no intentions of letting him go through that alone.
"Promise me one thing, Annika." I nodded for him to continue. "If this ends badly, as I think it will, don't go telling them about you, just because of me. Do you understand? I don't want you saying anything just so you can take some of the heat off me. You tell them when you're ready, and I'll be there for you."
I wondered if he knew me too well, because in any other situation, that was exactly what I would do. Now, however, with this discussion… I knew it to be private, and no matter what I told my parents, about me or anyone else, it wasn't bound to make much of a difference.
"I promise."
Just because I wouldn't tell them about me and Kevyn, didn't mean I wasn't going to say anything at all. If I could come up with some way to help my brother and my parents through the conversation easier, I was going to try.
Breakfast seemed tense to me, though I could only imagine the knots my brother was working himself into, and my parents didn't say anything if they noticed. We both cleared the table, and then I glanced up at my sibling, but he shook his head. He wasn't ready.
Afraid he wasn't going to go through with it, I pulled him upstairs after the kitchen was clean, as my dad was in the den reading his newspaper and my mom was resting on the sofa in front of the fire, and decided to talk to him.
"Bastiaan, what are you thinking?"
"I can't do this, AJ. I don't think I can do this."
Normally, I wouldn't have questioned it. But he was moving out - he had to tell them something. And I was sure he'd already told Bobby he was going to come out to my parents. Just over an hour before he had been positive he was going to tell them. Now he wasn't sure. He needed to be as confident and sure of himself as possible, and I told him as much.
"You have to be as steady as you can be, Bastiaan. Didn't you say that's what one of those books told you was best? If they ask you questions, you have to show them you believe what you're saying, or they'll think it's only a phase or a joke or something. This is your life, bro. You have to be serious. You can do this. I'll be right there with you," I promised, again, and patted his shoulder.
He sighed, but seemed to agree with me.
"Lunch. I'll tell them after lunch."
Sure enough, it wasn't long after we'd cleared the table from lunch, when my dad had already finished his paper, and Bastiaan asked them to come into the den, please, he wanted to talk to them.
Bastiaan sat on the couch, and I sat beside him, my parents taking up the recliners. Mom looked interested but slightly concerned, too, and dad just looked relaxed. I knew neither of them could possibly know what he was going to tell them… but I hoped, somewhere inside, that they did, that they had always known, and just didn't care.
"Well, I, uh, I have some news," he began, and I nudged him gently, trying to get him to breathe. If he started stuttering about it right away, mom and dad would think it was something bad.
"What is it, Bastiaan?" questioned my mom.
"Well, you know how Bobby and I have been together for a while now, right?"
My dad nodded, and cut right to the chase of what was on the forefront of his mind. "Did something happen, son? Is Bobbi pregnant?"
Bastiaan let out a nervous laugh. "No, Bobby's not pregnant. But we have decided to move in together… We talked about it over the weekend, and I started packing last night."
Looks were exchanged. "Are you sure that's what you want to do, Bastiaan?"
"I'm positive," he said, evenly. "I just wanted to let you guys know, so when I started loading things up into the car, you knew what was going on."
My mom frowned slightly. "I wish you would have told us sooner… this all seems sudden, I think. You've barely turned eighteen, and we haven't even met her yet…"
Bastiaan rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture I realize that I did, as well, and I nudged him again, this time as a show of support instead of a correction. My hand stayed on his arm.
"See, you've already met Bobby," he told them, and I could see their minds begin to work as they tried to figure that one out, "just a few weeks ago, at the dinner. His full name is Robert."
No one moved. I'm not even sure anyone breathed. Bastiaan was clutching my hand tightly now, as we waited for their reaction.
Justin spoke first. "If this is some sort of New Year's prank, Bastiaan, it isn't funny," he said, but his voice was unsteady.
My brother shook his head. "This isn't a prank, dad. Bobby and I have been together for over a year now, and I was afraid to tell you, so I started telling you he was a girl. He asked me to move in with him, and I said yes."
My mom took a deep breath. "Bastiaan, honey… you're still young. And you know, sometimes our hormones can get out of control, make us choose the wrong thing…"
"It's not my hormones, mom," he said, almost sounding exasperated. I squeezed his arm gently, telling him to take it easy. He had to stay calm in all this, if no one else did. "And how can love be wrong? I love him."
The color in my dad's face had been slowly increasing as Bastiaan spoke, but with that last sentence, he exploded out of his chair.
"No! No son of mine is a goddamned faggot," he cursed, and I think even my mom winced at his language; Hamlet certainly squawked at the noise. "You tell me you're lying, Bastiaan. You tell me this is all some sick joke."
Bastiaan stood, also. I joined him, staying silent, but never leaving his side. Even if I'd wanted to, I don't think the death grip he had on my hand would have allowed it. "I can't lie about what's in my heart. I'm happy, dad, happier than I've ever been. I love him, and we're going to be together, but I want you to be happy for me. Can't you do that?"
"I can't, and I won't," came the growled response. "Pack and get out of this house by tonight. I have no son." And he stormed out of the den, the slamming door sounding from the other end of the house telling us that he was in his bedroom.
Holding my twin's hand, I knew he wanted to sink into the couch and break down, but there was still one more person in the room he had to survive.
He turned to her with a soft, "Mom?"
Her eyes looked older than I had ever seen. She shook her head. "I can't accept this, Bastiaan. I do want you to be happy, but I always thought you'd grow up to get married, start a family…"
"I am starting a family, mom," protested Bastiaan.
"I'm sorry, but your father's right. This… this is just... You should go."
And then she left, too, and Bastiaan lost his grip on my hand. He fell back against the couch, hanging his head. I sat beside him again and put an arm around his shoulders, and we cried together, for all that he had lost and everything that I had to expect.
This is a terrible world we live in, I decided, when children don't feel safe enough, or comfortable enough to talk to their parents… when children have to be brave, have to gather courage to tell their parents of their happiness. The most wonderful feeling that anyone has ever known is love, and there are those who refuse to acknowledge it, to accept it, as real.
"I'm sorry, Bastiaan," I said, when we were able to speak, and he stood on still shaking legs, wiping his arm across his eyes to get rid of the tears.
"Come on, AJ," he rasped, and cleared his throat, trying again. "Come on. I've got to finish packing."
I helped him gather more of his things into boxes, and carry them out to his car, which was actually my mom's old one, just like I drove my dad's old truck. When it was full, he said he was going to drive it up to the apartment and unload, and be back in about an hour for the rest of it. His furniture would have to go another time.
While he drove, I made my way upstairs to my parents' bedroom, knocking softly. My mom called for me to come in, when I told her who it was.
"Where's dad?" I asked, not seeing him in the room.
"He went into town… he's just too upset to be here right now," she said, as though I should understand, and while I didn't, I nodded and accepted that he was angry.
"He must have gone while I was helping Bastiaan pack," I mused, and mom took my hand, carefully.
She had me sit beside her on the bed. "Oh, honey, I know this must be hard on you," she began, "finding out that your brother is… like that. I'm here if you want to talk, sweetheart."
I bit back an irritated sigh. "Mom, can I ask you something?"
"What is it, honey?"
"Would you love Bastiaan any less if he dropped out of school?"
She paused, but only slightly. "No, of course not."
"Would you love him any less if he started smoking marijuana?"
"No. I'd be disappointed, but no, I wouldn't."
"Would you love him any less if he loved men?"
"No -," she froze when she realized what she'd said.
I looked at her, evenly. "It's still Bastiaan, mom. He'll always be your son, and my brother. Only now he's happy." I kissed her cheek, and stood. "Can you think about that, please?"
She was gazing at me strangely, but nodded, so I left her to herself. I promised Bastiaan I wouldn't say anything about Kevyn and I, and I hadn't. But maybe I'd still managed to do some good. If my mom could just remember that Bastiaan hadn't changed, maybe she could remember that she still loved him. I knew she did. She just didn't understand.
And my dad…
I sighed. I had no idea what to do on that front.
One parent at a time, I decided, and went to finish packing up Bastiaan's room.
When we were taking the last load down to the car, mom met us at the front door. Dad had yet to return from town. It was dark, and the light from the porch illuminated the falling snowflakes in an eerie silence. We set down the boxes we were carrying, and Bastiaan turned to face her, bracing himself as if he was expecting her to strike him.
She didn't hug him, but I think she wanted to. "I love you, Bastiaan. I don't like what you're doing with your life, I think it's the wrong choice…" I had to bite my lip to keep from telling her it isn't a choice, "and I don't know that I'll ever be able to accept it. But I love you. Don't doubt that."
I could tell he was close to tears. "I love you, too, mom." He paused, swallowing. "I've got to go, now."
"Be safe… will you, maybe, call sometimes?"
"I will," he promised. "Thanks, mom."
And then we were out the door, into the snow, placing the last of his things in the backseat of the car. His room was empty, now; his closet and drawers were bare. He'd even taken the linen from his bed.
He pulled me into a strong hug that I think was meant to transfer to my mom, as well.
"Thanks, Annika, for everything," he said, and I kissed his cheek.
"I love you, too, Bastiaan. If you call, call my line, okay? And you better give me your phone number soon." He promised he would, hugged me again, told me to take care of Kevyn, and climbed in the driver's seat. The car started after a brief struggle against the cold, and then he was off. I watched him until I was too cold to stand outside anymore, then I went back inside and watched him from the window, until the snow and distance took him from my view.
Dad still wasn't back. Mom had gone back up to her room, I assumed, since she was no longer by the front door. The dogs, resting inside the house and out of the snow, whined a little as I climbed the stairs. They must have felt the mood, too. The emptiness. The house had never seemed so large, and so frightening.
I passed by his room… no, it was his old room now… and saw my mom sitting on his bed, just looking around. I let her be. If she was lost in her thoughts, maybe that was a good thing. I closed my bedroom door behind me, turned the radio on low to see if there was any predicted change in the weather, and stretched out on my bed.
It was almost dinner time, but I decided a nap was in order, and that if mom wanted my help with cooking, she could wake me up. I planned to call Kevyn later that night, but at that time I was just so emotionally exhausted I didn't think I'd be much for conversation.
About an hour and a half later, I awoke to my mom's hand on my shoulder. I hadn't meant to sleep that long, and stretched my arms over my head as I rolled over and looked at her, noticing the rings around her eyes that signaled she'd been crying just a few minutes before.
"Come on down for dinner, AJ," she said, her voice rough from the tears. "It's ready."
I nodded, and got to my feet. I wondered why she hadn't gotten me up to help cook, and then guessed she'd wanted some time with just her and dad, maybe to talk. I hoped that was a good thing.
But when I got to the kitchen, I paused. There were only two places set.
"Looks like it's just us girls for dinner tonight," my mom swallowed, smiling thinly.
I frowned. It wasn't like my dad not to be home. Then again, I guess he had a lot to deal with. But, still…
"It looks good," I sighed, and tried to be somewhat cheerful, but dinner was a silent event. Mom didn't talk. I didn't think she wanted to. I wondered what she was thinking, if she worried about dad, about Bastiaan. I knew I was.
Just as if nothing had changed, I cleared the table and stacked the dishes to be washed. There weren't many, with just two sets of dinnerware and a few pots from mom's cooking. I had just started running the water when I heard the front door open. I heard my mom's voice clearly, and almost dropped the glass I was holding when her words registered.
"Justin! You're drunk," she accused, and he slammed the door.
I flinched, and furrowed my brow as I ran that through my mind. My dad didn't get drunk. He didn't drink any alcohol, because my mom couldn't, and he had told me once that he could never understand turning to the bottle to run away from a problem when sooner or later you could solve it yourself.
I wondered what had suddenly enlightened him.
"Yes, I'm drunk." I flinched again. He was slurring his words. I figured he'd been drinking all afternoon.
By this time I had poked my head out from the kitchen, and watched the scene unfold.
My mom went to touch his face, red-rimmed eyes and all, but he pulled away from her, needing to put a hand on the wall to keep from falling over completely. That wasn't just the alcohol that was making his voice so gruff, I realized that he'd been crying, as well.
"Honey, why don't you go to bed? Sleep whatever this is off."
He frowned. "Sleep it off? I have to wake up ever day knowing that my son is a fucking homo. How the hell am I supposed to sleep that off?"
That was the last time much of anything was said about my brother.
"Bastiaan…" I was going to try to tell my dad the same reasoning I'd given my mom earlier, but his fist on the wall ceased my words.
"No!" he roared. "Don't say that name. I have no son."
"Dad…"
His hand moved again, but this time it was to my shoulder, and I winced when I got a strong smell of alcohol.
"Annika," he breathed, and I fought the urge to gag, "you are my only child. You'll be good to the ranch when it becomes yours. Don't disappoint me. Be good."
Mom took his arm, then, and pulled him down the hall into the bedroom before he was aware enough to protest.
I ran up to my room and called Kevyn. In between tears of hurt and confusion, I told her everything.
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Her voice was soothing, and calmed me a little, but the only thing I wanted at that moment was here arms around me, chasing the events of the day into the back of my mind.
"He's never going to love me for me, who I really am," I said, and heard a sad sound from the other end. She didn't know what to say to that, it meant, but she wanted the same thing I did.
"You can still keep in touch with your brother, baby, nothing has to change there."
I nodded. "But he's not here anymore. He could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I really miss him. I just feel alone," I admitted at last, and I wasn't sure if the sound was sad or slightly hurt this time. I hurried to clarify. "I only mean here, you know. Like it's just me and them now, and he wants so much for me to be the perfect daughter now that he feels Bastiaan screwed up. But I can't, and I know eventually I'm just going to break him apart all over again."
I was crying again.
"Oh, Nikka, I wish I could be there with you right now."
"Me, too."
She thought for a moment. "Can you call Stacey, honey? Maybe she can come over with you."
"Maybe." It was a little late, but I knew Stacey would come if I needed her.
Kevyn was tired, and I told her to go to bed, and after a bit of a struggle, I won. She said we would talk tomorrow - I was thinking about taking her to the coffee shop, hoping to see my brother at the same time.
I didn't call Stacey. Oh, I knew if I did, she would get bundled up and drive twenty minutes in the heavy snow and not stop to think twice. It was good to know that.
But all I wanted to do was curl up and try to hide from the settling weight of an empty house. So I did. But it didn't work. Either missing my brother or knowing that now it was only me and my parents caused me one of the worst nights of sleep I believe I've ever had.
Save one. The night I lost Kevyn was terrible… but, that comes later.
It wasn't hard to convince my mom to let me go out the next day, all day. She said she understood if I didn't want to be around until my father had sobered up, and I agreed. It was bad enough to have seen him drunk the night before, I wasn't sure that being around while he had a hangover would be any better.
I decided I wouldn't mention anything about it to Bastiaan.
Kevyn called just after breakfast, while my dad was still asleep, to see what I was doing for the day. I told her I had someplace I wanted to show her, and she agreed to go along.
"I'll be over in just a few minutes, honey," I said, and hung up. I pulled a sweatshirt over my head, pulled on my jacket, and was putting on my gloves as I climbed downstairs. I patted Ramya on the head and was out the door just a moment later. I left the truck running, since I'd seen the curtain move and knew Kevyn had watched me drive up, and sure enough, she rushed out the door and into the truck just a minute later.
She leaned over and kissed me, her lips already cold from the air outside. "Hi."
I smiled, "Hi," and returned the kiss.
"Where are we going?" she wanted to know.
I reached over and took her hand, choosing not to answer her question. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wasn't quite sure why, but I did. She raised an eyebrow at me, a move I found to be quite sexy, but didn't ask again.
Turning up the radio, I managed to convince her to sing along, and got to hear her beautiful voice once again. She didn't blush this time when I turned down the volume, nor did she stop singing. I grinned at her for it.
We were able to find a parking spot near the entrance, so we wouldn't have to walk very far in the snow, which was still falling. I didn't think it would be safe to drive for a while until the snow plows could come through again, so I was glad we'd made it when we had.
That, and a warm cup of hot chocolate sounded really good.
"This is the coffee shop that my brother took me to," I explained, and when I kept hold of her hand even after we were indoors, she shot me a startled look.
"Look around, sweetheart," I said, moving my arm to her shoulders. Verdant eyes took in the occupants of the room quickly, and I felt her relax when she realized a majority of the couples sitting close together, sharing steam from a hot drink, were of the same sex.
She was comfortable, then. I let her pick a table and ordered us both hot chocolates. I saw the light in her eyes as I made my way back to the corner booth she'd chosen, and knew I'd made the right choice.
"This place seems nice," she said, and I nodded, telling her the story of how my brother had met his boyfriend here.
She smiled gently. "And you're hoping they're here again today."
I blinked. "No, I'm not! Well, I mean, I am, but… I wanted to take you here, too. Ever since Bastiaan brought me, I thought you might like to come."
The smirk I caught made me pause. "You know I'd like to do that," she purred, and I jumped when I felt her foot make its way up my calf.
"Kevyn!"
"Something wrong, love?" The redhead grinned again, telling me that not only did she not blame me for having a second motive to our visit, but that she wouldn't tease me again. I knew she could, and I knew how much she enjoyed seeing me blush, but I loved her for knowing how to quell the urge.
I breathed slowly, smiling a little too brightly at the waitress when she brought our drinks, and willed my heart to return to its normal rhythm, and preferably its normal place up in my chest.
"Everything's fine," I replied. She had me so distracted I took a sip of my hot chocolate before giving it a chance to cool, and pulled it back quickly when I felt it burn the inside of my mouth. Swallowing in an attempt to lessen the pain, Kevyn moved closer to me and cupped my chin with her palm.
"Are you all right?" A piece of ice suddenly appeared in her hand, and she moved it to my lips, until I had it in my mouth. I chewed it and felt the ice blast the heat and the tingles that caused on my tongue. When she offered me another piece, I refused, quite embarrassed by my own stupidity.
My girlfriend must have realized my blush for what it was, and rubbed my arm. "You sure you're all right, baby?" I nodded. She kissed my cheek for a long moment, and when she pulled back, I was smiling again.
"That's better. Now, does this place serve anything other than coffee?" Staying close to ensure that I wouldn't continue kicking myself, she picked up her menu, and we decided on a snack that would be worthy of brunch.
I didn't see my brother that day. Nor did I see Bobby. But after about ten minutes, I completely forgot that was my initial reason for wanting to stop by the coffee house. Kevyn and I were talking, exchanging touches and looks in a comfortable atmosphere, knowing that even if anyone was paying attention to us, they didn't care. In the beginning, I tensed up every time the door opened, expecting my dad to come strolling in for some reason. Of course, that didn't happen, and I relaxed completely after a while, Kevyn assuring me there was nothing to worry about.
The waitress came and set the bill on the table, and I reached for it as Kevyn was talking, thinking she wouldn't notice, but Kevyn took it in her hand without missing a single beat of her conversation.
I frowned slightly. "I invited you here, I'll pay," I insisted.
Green eyes sparkled. "I've got it, baby. Really."
I opened my mouth to protest again, but she decided to play dirty.
"Please?"
Breathing deeply, I scowled at her. "That's not fair."
"I know," she grinned, pulling some cash from her pocket and matching it to the amount on the receipt, as well as a few dollars for the tip, which she left on the table. She kissed my shoulder as we slid out of the booth, and I forgave her.
I drove her back, apparently not long after the plow had gone over the main roads, because there was little snow under my tires, and we spent a long while just kissing in my truck. The fact that the front seat of a pickup truck is neither a comfortable nor a practical place to make love is the only thing that stopped us. That, and it had gotten pretty cold, even with the warm breaths we were exchanging.
She kissed my neck, near my shoulder, and I shivered. "I love you, Annika."
I pulled her closer. "I love you, too." I took a deep breath, and was enjoying the scent of her when she pulled back. "What?"
"It's cold," she grinned, eyes bright. "I should get inside, baby. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay." She had told me earlier while we were at the coffeehouse that she wouldn't be able to invite me in, because her mom wasn't feeling well at all, and had requested that no one see her in that condition, including her daughter. Patrick was delivering messages from his wife to his little girl, and while Kevyn said she was a little worried, it wasn't the first time her mom had decided to hide in her room all day.
I kissed her again. That worried me, but Diane's voice rang in my head, and I didn't say anything. "Tell your mom and dad hi. I love you, honey."
Her arms went around me in a strong embrace, and fine red hair tickled my nose. "And I love you. Have a good day, Nikka." And then she was rushing into the house where it was warm, and I made sure she was in safely before carefully driving away.
And, as I drove back and inhaled the strong smell of her on my clothes, that was the last time I smiled. From that day until now, I haven't had a thing to be happy about.
* * * * *
I arrived home to hear my mom and dad arguing in the kitchen. I paused, my arm still raised to put my coat on the rack by the door. Arguing? I hadn't heard my parents argue once, to the best of my memory. I'm sure they did, they just made sure to hide it from Bastiaan and I.
But, this… I wouldn't have been able to miss the yelling if I had been asleep in my room upstairs.
"I'm telling you, it's not true!"
"Then you ask her!" roared my dad.
I frowned. I got the feeling they were talking about me, and decided it was probably a good idea to stay out of the kitchen just then, until I was sure exactly what was going on between them.
"I will not. Justin, it's her life. She's eighteen!"
A plate was dropped, or thrown, I don't know. Either way, I heard the dish break, and jumped. Things were being broken?
This really was bad.
"I don't give a damn! She's still living under my roof, and she will live by my rules!" He was drunk again.
The kitchen door burst open, and my dad stormed into the room, seeming to suck up all the oxygen in a single moment.
I froze, unable to do anything other than stare at him. He looked much like he always did, with the exception of the wild and clouded fire in his eyes.
"Annika, AJ, you're home," he said, and my mother stopped short beside him. I didn't look at her. "I have to ask you something, it's very important. I don't want to be asking you this, but I have to know. It's important, you have to answer me honest, understand?"
I swallowed, heart pounding. I suddenly knew what he was going to ask. There was no reason for my mind to come up with it, but I knew it as sure as I knew it was snowing outside.
"What?"
"I heard about this girl, from church, at the Christmas Eve service. Now I want to know. She said that you grabbed her butt, you rubbed against her, and asked if you two could do something later. Said you came on to her. Did you?"
My jaw almost dropped. "I never did anything like that!"
He didn't seem to be too concerned with that answer. "For me, now, I have to know. You tell me the truth, now. Are you a lesbian?"
"No." I wasn't about to come out to my dad when he was drunk, and certainly not based off a lie.
"You tell me the truth. You're not, are you or are you not gay?" He was stumbling over his words, but I knew what he meant.
"No," I repeated myself.
"Honest?"
"Yes." I was limited to one-word answers.
He wasn't buying it. "You tell me! Because I think you are. I say you are a lesbian, and you're lying!"
"Justin, drop it." My mom finally stepped in. "Let it go."
"All right, okay. We won't talk about this ever again. I'll never bring it up. Never ever. You just tell me the truth. Are you a lesbian?"
I felt sick. "No."
"You like boys?"
"Yes."
"Don't you lie to me!"
"Justin! She already answered you. You leave her alone," my mom demanded, trying to turn his face so he would concentrate on her, but he kept moving around her arm and just kept staring at me. I couldn't get away from his eyes. I couldn't make myself move. I just stood there, feeling sick and faint.
His voice pounded in my head. "No! Look at her, Sue, she wants to tell you! Give her two more minutes, I know it, she wants to tell you. Look at her! She's a lesbian and she wants to tell you!"
My mom slapped his face. "Justin, you stop this. Stop it, right now." He didn't listen, and kept brushing her aside as if she hadn't and couldn't touch him. Sad eyes looked at me, and I heard my mom say, "Go on into your room and just stay there, Annika."
I nodded, thinking that was a good idea, and started up the stairs. At the top of his lungs, with all the power of the alcohol in his system, my dad shouted, "She's gay! Our daughter's fucking gay!"
I slammed the door behind me and cried. I slid down the wall, shaking. I suddenly felt so cold. Too cold. I couldn't stop trembling. I felt scared, and violated, and angry, and hurt. Who had said those things? Maybe nobody. Maybe my dad was just drunk enough to start making up stories.
I wished Bastiaan was there.
My mom was still yelling at dad, trying to get him to be quiet, to go to bed and sleep off the alcohol, and I heard every word. Dad refused to give in, and I even heard her slap him again. The kitchen door slammed, and I wondered if dad had gone to get another drink, or maybe mom was trying to collect herself.
The door to my room burst open, and I looked up, eyes wide. It was my dad.
"Annika, we're not going to talk about this ever, ever again," he slurred.
I was quiet, tears still running down my face, and merely nodded.
"Never again. But you got to tell me the truth, first." Oh, God. "You're gay, aren't you? You are. I always thought you were, but I didn't want to believe it. But you tell me now, and it'll be just what you say. Are you gay?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but my mom stepped around him, and saw the terrified look on my face, and reacted in full protective mode.
"You leave her alone, Justin, do you hear me? You stop this! Don't say another word."
He snarled. "Don't tell me what to say and what to not say."
My mother's voice was cold. "When it comes to my little girl, I will fucking tell you what to say and do. Get out." Drunk as he was, dad was unable to keep his balance when mom shoved him, and he stumbled head-first out the door, hitting the wall with his shoulder. He didn't howl in pain, or even grunt, so it must not have hurt.
Dad was loudly protesting the treatment, even as mom dragged him downstairs and made him stay in the bedroom.
A moment later, my door opened again. I jumped, and almost cowered in the corner, expecting it to be my dad and for him to start yelling at me again.
"Pack your things, Annika," said my mom. "We're leaving."
I blinked, but immediately got up and found a bag. "Where are we going?"
"I don't know yet. Just away from here."
It was snowing, pretty heavily. But the chains on my mom's car were secure, I knew, and she knew how to handle the roads in such conditions. Within five minutes, I had everything I thought I would need for a night or two stuffed into an old duffel bag, and was dressed for the weather.
Mom was still in the room. "Got everything?"
I nodded.
"Let's go." She led the way downstairs, hurrying to the car, and drove off the property with a determined looked on her face. I was silent, keeping to myself, head bowed as I fiddled with the last button on my jacket, which hadn't buttoned properly since I was twelve and got it smashed in the barn door.
I didn't pay any attention to where we were going. Frankly, I don't think I cared. I just didn't want to go back there. I didn't even want to go to my room, where I knew he could find me. I never thought I'd have a reason to honestly be scared of my parents, but that night, I knew I was terrified of my father.
"I'm so sorry, baby," my mom spoke after a time, and I glanced up.
"It's okay." I was trying to make her feel better, knowing she must have felt awful, too.
"No, it isn't." Her hand reached out and caressed my cheek. "You know I love you, right? You're my little girl and I'll do anything to keep you safe. I'm sorry I let him say those things to you."
I shook my head. "You couldn't have stopped him, mom. He's drunk." I waited a moment, and then added, "I didn't do those things. I don't know why he said I did."
She parked the car then, and I realized we were at Stacey's house. "I didn't believe you did, honey, it never sounded like something you would do to anyone." She didn't ask about the other thing he'd demanded to know, and I realized she probably didn't want to find out. Either that, or she didn't think it was wise to ask just then.
We ran towards the door, and inside, a dog started barking when we knocked. Dr. Lisa answered the door in less than a minute, looking tired and a little cold in her robe.
"Susan? AJ?"
My mom gave her an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry to just show up like this, Lisa, and I really hate to ask, but can we stay for the night? We've had some… it's been a rough night."
The door opened all the way and she ushered us in. "Oh, of course, it's no problem at all. Come on in and have a seat in the kitchen, I'll make some tea." Dr. Lisa was a kind woman, and remembered my mom wouldn't drink hot chocolate. "Get out of those cold clothes, come on, now."
While we hung up our coats, Dr. Lisa heated some water, and the sound of the whistle brought Stacey wandering into the kitchen.
She rushed over and gave both my mom and I a warm hug.
"Oh, Stacey, honey, why don't you take AJ to your room? Susan and I will talk out here so we won't keep you girls up." Stacey nodded, and led me down the hall carefully. I knew I wouldn't sleep.
"What's going on?" my friend asked, taking the cup of tea from my hands when she realized I was shaking. I hadn't been able to calm down any, even though we were no longer in the same house.
I sniffled, and by the time I'd finished telling her everything, I was sobbing. Stacey wrapped her arms around me and held me close, rocking me gently. I clutched her to me in a death grip, needing the comfort and the closeness of someone that I knew was safe. She kissed the top of my head. Soon I moved and stretched out, laying my head in her lap, bawling still.
"I'm so sorry, honey," she said, stroking my hair. "You should have called me the other night, I definitely would have gone over."
"I know," I hiccupped. "I just don't understand why he did this."
"Neither do I, love."
I slept beside her that night, curled up and trying to feel as relaxed as was possible, Stacey doing the best she could and rubbing my back gently until I fell asleep. I didn't sleep well, however, and kept waking up with a small cry. Stacey would feel my movements, and try to soothe me back to sleep.
The third time, I got up and wandered around for a few minutes, looking for my mother. She and Dr. Lisa were still in the kitchen, judging by the voices, so I stood by the door for a moment, just to listen. Yes, I was eavesdropping. But I knew that night had bothered my mom, too, and I wanted to know why, and if there was something I could do to make it better for her. I knew she would never tell me directly.
"I just don't understand any of this, Lisa."
"Do you think AJ is a lesbian?"
I held my breath.
My mom sighed heavily. "I don't know what to think anymore. I mean, she's always spending so much time with Kevyn, the neighbor girl. But she says it's because Kevyn's mother is sick, and she wants to be there for her. And that's my little girl, worrying about everyone else." I smiled inwardly at the praise, in spite of myself. "At the same time, I've never heard her say a word about dating a boy. I know the school situation made that difficult, but surely she must have met some people."
Dr. Lisa was silent for a beat, and then asked, "What if she is?"
There was no answer for a long while.
Then, "It'll tear Justin apart."
"I don't care a fig about Justin right now," was the stern reply. "I'm asking about you, Susan, how would you feel?"
"I'd be scared for her."
"Why?" Dr. Lisa sure was calm about all this, I noticed. And she must have been very serious; she looked older than I'd ever seen, and I never once caught an "Oh". I'd have to thank her before we left.
I'd managed to quietly open the door a little, and so was now able to see as well as hear what was going on. My mother sat at the end of the table, her back to me, cradling a cup of tea in her hands, if I could take a guess. Dr. Lisa had moved a chair around so she now sat very close to my mother, hand often moving from her forearm to her shoulder, in comfort.
"It would be so hard for her… I mean, the world isn't nice to those people."
Dr. Lisa frowned a little. I could just see it, and didn't think my mom caught it, except in her voice. "What people?"
"You know… them."
My heart hurt.
"Who's 'them'?" Dr. Lisa was going to make her say it.
"The…" Mom cleared her throat. "The gays." She spoke it in a whisper, like saying it too loud was akin to saying Candyman to the mirror in a dark room.
The outside of the vet's eyebrow was raised.
Hey, I didn't know Dr. Lisa could do that!
"You say it like it's a bad thing."
Now Dr. Lisa had me wondering. Either she was just very understanding, or… Well, Stacey had never said anything about her father, other than to tell me he wasn't around.
"People treat them so differently, Lisa. And it's wrong, you know, what they do. It isn't natural, and…"
Dr. Lisa had heard all she needed to. "Do you want to know how you can start making it better, Susan? For your son, your daughter, and all the rest of the world whether they're straight or not?" My mom shook her head 'yes'. "Understanding. Accepting might be too much to ask right now, but understanding is a good goal."
"I don't…"
"You do understand. You just need to realize it. You keep talking about gays and lesbians as if they're some sort of alien breed that sticks out like a sore thumb, people that need to be ostracized. You know now that they're not. Your son is gay; does he deserve to be treated like that?"
"Of course not."
"Then why should he be better than anyone else?"
My mom didn't have an answer.
"Do you want to know who's gay?"
Silence.
"Policemen, policewomen, doctors, lawyers, mechanics, hair stylists, soldiers, farmers, teachers, taxi drivers, and neighbors. People from every walk of life. And for most of them, you'd never know it. But they all want the same thing, Susan. Everyone wants to be happy, be loved, have a good job, and be able to come home after a long day to the one they love," Dr. Lisa said, and I grinned. Maybe between the two of us we could help my mom understand. "But sometimes they might lose their job, or be victims of hate, just because of who they choose to love. Is that fair?"
Mom shook her head. I wasn't sure if she was up to talking just then. Too much information, too many things to think about, I guessed.
"It doesn't make them any different than the rest of us, trying to get along in the world, doing all we can to be comfortable and secure, does it?"
Another 'no'.
"Now imagine if, in addition to the face of all that threat and hate, they can't even come home. They don't even have their parents to turn to. They're alone with this knowledge, thinking that for some reason what's in their heart is perceived as evil and wrong."
My mom raised her head, meeting Dr. Lisa's even gaze.
"Having someone who understands can be the greatest feeling in the world, when everyone else is against you."
"You're right," she whispered. "I… I'll try. And if Annika is… if she is gay, I want her to come to me. Not Justin. I'll try to understand."
Dr. Lisa hugged her gently. "Good. Now just remember that, Sue. Do you want some more tea?"
"That would be great, thank you. And then I think I might go lay down."
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and almost jumped out of my skin. It was Stacey. She'd come to see where I was.
"Hey, are you all right?" she asked, and I nodded, putting a finger to my lips and walking back to her room. We sat on her bed, and I told her the gist of what had been said.
Then: "Stacey, your mom… I mean, she…"
My friend smiled a little. "Are you trying to ask me if my mom is gay?"
I nodded.
"Yes. She says she came out to herself not long after I was born, and my dad couldn't stand it, so he left. No child support, nothing. But mom knew better than to ask for it, because at that time, it's possible the courts could have taken me away from her. My grandparents could have taken me, too, if they'd wanted. She never told them.
"So she just worked hard, and was around as much as she could be, and we did okay," she grinned.
"But, I've never seen her with…"
Stacey shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. For one, it's been a long time since my mom has dated, and two, she's always been very careful. She knows if the wrong person finds out, she stands to lose her clients."
I paused, considering this new information. "Do you think…?"
There was a kiss to my cheek, and Stacey urged me to lay down and try to go back to sleep. "I'm sure she'd be glad to talk with you, cupcake. You just let her know you need to talk, and she'll listen, give you advice if you need it. Now, go to sleep. We can't do anything more tonight."
Stacey and I slept in until almost ten. It was a school day, the first day back after break, so I was surprised that Stacey wasn't in school. She explained that one day wouldn't hurt, and her mom must have figured all she would have done was worry about my mom and I anyhow.
We went to the kitchen to get breakfast, and found that Dr. Lisa and my mom were already awake. No surprise there.
Dr. Lisa was making pancakes, and I assumed my mom was 'splurging', because I was sure they didn't have the same ingredients as we used at home. For my mom, she joked that even eating regular spaghetti was splurging, because it wasn't made with wheat.
"Oh, good morning, girls. Finally decided to join us?"
Stacey chuckled, and kissed her mom on the cheek. "Good morning, mom. Morning, Susan."
"Good morning, Stacey. How are you feeling, honey?" That last question was directed to me, and I sat beside her.
"I'm okay," I said, and knew she didn't believe it anymore than I meant it.
The pancakes were served, and just as we sat down, the phone rang. Stacey got up to answer it in the living room, walking back into the kitchen a moment later and touching my shoulder.
"It's for you," she said. I frowned. Who would be calling me here? I didn't figure Stacey would let me take it if it were my dad… Maybe it was Bastiaan, for some reason.
I made my way into the living room, and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Nikka?"
"Kevyn! What's wrong, honey?"
She sniffled. "I've been trying to get a hold of you since last night," she said, and I felt horrible. "I needed to talk to you."
"I'm so sorry, baby. We had some problems with my dad, and…"
"My mom's in the hospital."
I felt my heart lurch towards my feet.
I heard how unsteady her voice was, and knew she was close to tears. "She's not doing too good. She's asking for you, Nikka, and I need you, too."
I knew mom would let me borrow her car. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Which hospital?" She gave me all the information I'd need to find them, and I hung up. I rushed into the kitchen, told my mom that Diane was in the hospital and I needed to go. Stacey offered to drive, we got dressed in a hurry, and were on our way in six minutes flat, with directions to offer warm thoughts from Dr. Lisa and my mom.
It would take us about thirty minutes or so to drive all the way to the hospital in the snow, and Stacey was driving as quickly as she could while still keeping us safe. I was glad she was driving. I wouldn't have had the state of mind to worry about being cautious.
The drive was quiet. I assume Stacey didn't know what to say to me, and I just wanted to be lost in my thoughts, as it were.
I should have been there when she called, I told myself. She needed me, and I wasn't there. I should have stayed, dad wouldn't have come out of his bedroom, I should have been there. Then she wouldn't have had to spend the night alone, wondering where I was, if her mom was going to make it, she wouldn't have been alone.
It all came down to one thing. I failed her.
I continued to kick myself all the way to the hospital, and jumped out of the truck even before Stacey had put in park. She rushed to catch up with me, and we walked in together, ignoring the nurse at the front desk and simply following the directions Kevyn had given me for the waiting room.
I didn't see her right away, and then there she was, somehow on one side of the room one second and in my arms the next. I held her close.
"I'm here, honey. I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner."
"She's asking for you again," she sighed into my shoulder, but didn't pull away.
I kissed the top of her head tenderly. "You sit with Stacey, love. It's okay. I'll be back soon," I promised, and motioned with my eyes for Stacey to take her and sit down. My friend understood, and gently took Kevyn's arm, leading her to a nearby chair, speaking softly.
I found the room easily, and peeked in the doorway. Patrick was there, sitting in a chair by the bed. At first, I didn't see Diane. I didn't think she was there. I was too late.
But then, her head moved. She was there, she was just so thin and so pale I almost couldn't see her for the sheets. The machines beeped and clicked.
I cleared my throat, and Patrick jumped, giving me a sad smile. He turned to his wife, whispering, "Hey, darling, look who's here? Yeah, it's AJ. She's come to say hi, isn't that nice? I'll leave you two girls alone for a while, okay? You just let her know if you need anything." His eyes were hollow as he walked out of the room, and I was suddenly afraid.
Sitting in his chair, I just looked at her for a moment. Except for the time I'd broken my arm, I'd never been in a hospital. I'd never seen anyone lying in a hospital bed, all hooked up to machines and monitors, and I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure if I could touch her, or if that would set some sort of alarm off or something.
Her eyes opened. Clouded with pain and medicine, but still beautiful. I could only catch a spark of the light I'd known just a week before.
I cried.
"AJ." Her throat was dry, and I reached for a cup of water with a straw that was on a tray by her bed. She nodded a little, and I held it to her lips with shaking hands, withdrawing it when she was done. "Thank you… for being here."
"I came as soon as I could. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should have told them," I blubbered, "maybe they could have done something sooner. I'm so sorry…"
"Shhh…" Her hand came up off the bed a little, and I got the hint, reaching out and taking her hand in mine, trying not to shudder when I felt how cold she was. Cold, and her skin felt paper thin.
"I asked you not to say anything, you have to be strong for Kevyn and my husband," she told me, and I swallowed. "She's going to need you. You've been so good to my family, AJ." Her eyes started closing, and I was scared this was it. She was going to die, and I was going to have go out and tell everyone…
"Oh, God. Diane, please…"
Her eyes opened again. "So, so tired. I love them all. Kevyn, and my husband, and AJ… that's Kevyn's girlfriend, you know. She's so good for them. They had a little argument the other day, my husband told me, but I think they'll be okay. I love them. Will you tell them, Margie?"
I blinked. I had no clue who Margie was, though I learned later it was her sister, but had an idea that just then, Diane wasn't sure who I was. Kevyn and I hadn't had an argument since Christmas, and I didn't think her parents even knew about that one, so she must have been thinking some time in the past. The way she kept referring to Patrick as "my husband" made me wonder if she remembered his name.
I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course I'll tell them. They love you, too."
"Kevyn hasn't… hasn't seen me in two days. I don't want her to see me like this, I want her to remember me better than this." Her head moved again, and she gave a little sound like she might be in pain. I looked around frantically, wondering if there was something I could do, but then she started talking again. Her voice was getting weaker, and I had to lean closer to be able to hear. God, those machines were so loud.
"Don't let her see me."
Kevyn wasn't going to like that, but I agreed I would do my best.
"Will you tell my husband I want to go home now? I don't want to be here anymore, Margie. I want to go home." Her eyes closed, and did not open again. I'm sure the sounds of the monitors changed to a solid tone, but I didn't hear it. Tears fell, and I leaned my forehead on her shoulder, begging her to wake up, promising that we all loved her, too.
A nurse came in some time later, and put her hand on my shoulder, comfortingly. She had unplugged the machine, so now the room was far too quiet.
"They're waiting," she said, softly. I knew who she meant, and got to my feet. I walked out the door in a daze, registering in the back of my mind that the nurse had pulled the top sheet up to cover Diane's face.
Patrick and Kevyn looked up when they saw me. My heart broke at the hope in their eyes.
I shook my head, telling Patrick, "She went home." The large man put his head in his hands, and started rocking back and forth as he sobbed.
Kevyn leapt up and made a run for the room. I grabbed her and held her against me tightly, though she pulled to get away.
"Let me go! Damn it, Nikka, let me go! I have to see her."
"No, baby." I wrapped her arms in mine, keeping her still. "No, let her go. She didn't want you to see her, not like that," I whispered, kissed her temple. "Please, love." Suddenly, her fight was gone. She sagged in my embrace, and we both fell to the ground. She clutched at my shoulder, and I kept her close.
I refused to cry. Diane had told me to be strong. I wouldn't cry, not in front of Kevyn or Patrick. They didn't need to worry about me hurting, too. I had to be strong.
Almost an hour later, Patrick decided he was composed enough to drive home. He had already called the funeral home and made arrangements, he said, last night while Kevyn was sleeping. He didn't want to upset her, and knew he wasn't going to have his wife with him much longer.
I wasn't so sure that he was okay to drive, and asked Stacey if she would mind driving him, and I would follow behind, taking Kevyn with me. She agreed, and we left ten minutes later, after I'd convinced Kevyn that it was time to go.
She was quiet the entire ride. That scared me more than her tears, I think. But I wasn't going to push her. She would come and talk to me when she was ready, I decided, and tried to send her comforting thoughts.
I leaned over to give her a gentle kiss when we arrived at her house, but I found nothing but thin air. She was already on her way inside. I blinked, a little hurt by her sudden departure, but figured she just wanted to be with her father. I couldn't blame her, and so didn't follow her.
Stacey climbed in beside me, and we were on the way back to her house. I knew I had to talk to my mom, and see what was going on for the day, whether or not we were going back home. I didn't know what she wanted to do. Plus, I hoped to be able to talk to Dr. Lisa for a few minutes.
* * * * *
I didn't get to talk to Dr. Lisa that day. We got back to Stacey's house, and I found that my mom had already packed everything. Dad called while Stacey and I were at the hospital, and said he was sorry, he was sober now, and he just wanted us to come home. Mom decided he was sincere.
"But we won't go if you don't want to," she assured me. I just sat there on the couch and didn't say anything for a moment. I think I'd had too much emotional pain in the past twenty-four hours to know for sure what I wanted to do about anything.
I sighed. "I really don't know, mom."
She nodded, seeming to understand, and kissed my forehead. "What do you say we head back, and give it a try? If you're not comfortable, we'll leave again right away. How's that sound?"
I shrugged. "Okay."
So, we went back. Dad met us at the door, and I immediately took a step back when he looked at me. I was afraid of his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Annika," he said. I could smell stale alcohol still on his breath, and didn't let him come near me, though he tried to give me a hug once or twice. I moved away each time. Mom watched us carefully.
"Listen, honey, it doesn't matter to me, okay? It really doesn't. I'm just so sorry I hurt you, I love you so much. Can you forgive me?"
I nodded, numbly. "Yeah, I will." Probably wasn't going to be anytime soon, but I knew I would eventually.
He shook his head. "We won't talk about that ever again."
I raised an eyebrow. "If it doesn't matter, then why do you keep bringing it up?" I snapped, and went to my room.
Mom came in with sandwiches for lunch, and set the plate on my desk as she sat down beside me on my bed. I'd been stretched out there for the last two hours, staring at my ceiling, mind anything but blank.
"Honey? What do you want to do?"
I shrugged again.
"Talk to me, Annika. I need to know what you're thinking."
"I don't even know what I'm thinking, mom."
She tried again. "What are you feeling?"
"Sad. Diane's dead and Kevyn won't talk to me," I stated.
My mom was quiet for a moment, and then she asked, "And is Kevyn your girlfriend?"
I was a little surprised by the ease with which my mom seemed to speak, and turned onto my side to actually look at her. She was serious. She looked like she was afraid, but also determined to know.
So, I nodded. "Yes, she is."
She let out a heavy sigh. "You lied to your father, then."
I gave her an incredulous look. "It would be bad enough if I told him when he was sober, mom, there's no way I was going to tell him while he was drunk."
"Who all knows?"
"Bastiaan, Stacey, and Kevyn's dad," I replied.
She appeared a little more relaxed with this answer. "Good. We don't have to tell anyone else."
I frowned. "Well, I wasn't planning on it."
"I'll make an appointment next week."
"An appointment? For what?"
She stroked my hair. "For the counselor."
I sat up so quickly I got a little dizzy. "The what?!" I cried. "Why do you want to send me to a counselor?" Suddenly, I didn't think she'd listened to a single thing Dr. Lisa had said. This was not how she was supposed to be understanding.
"Not just for you, baby. For me and you, and maybe for your father, too." I scowled. I didn't like the idea. "This is something we're all going to need help adjusting to."
"You didn't make Bastiaan go to a counselor."
"Bastiaan left before we could help him."
I raised an eyebrow. "Help him? You mean, change him." I didn't trust the idea of this counselor one little bit.
"It's for the best, Annika, for all of us. You'll see. Eat some lunch." And then she left. I grabbed a sandwich and munched idly, wondering if my mom truly had any idea of what was best.
* * * * *
Four days passed with no word from Kevyn. I decided I wouldn't call her, or go see her, until she was ready. So that meant waiting for her to contact me. I started getting anxious after the first day, and by day four, I was ready to climb the walls. In fact, I ran down to the kitchen every time that phone rang, and back upstairs to my room whenever I heard that phone, jumping at the chance that it might be my girlfriend.
But no, it was usually just Stacey, calling to check up on me.
Bastiaan did call once, and gave me his new phone number with Bobby. He said they'd just gotten a few things ironed out with the phone company, and that was why it had taken so long for him to call.
I was sullen the entire conversation, and he noticed. I gave him a brief summary of what was going on when he asked.
"AJ… you should have told me."
"How was I supposed to get in touch with you?" I snapped. I was being short with everyone lately, I noticed. "You're out of here, Bastiaan. None of this concerns you anymore."
"Hey." He sounded hurt. "That's not true and you know it. I love you, AJ, and I'm worried about you. I've been thinking about you and mom every day, wondering how you're doing."
I growled at him. "We've been better. Enjoy your new life with Bobby." And I hung up on him. He didn't call back.
The phone rang a few minutes later, and I wasn't going to answer it, figuring it was my brother, but it had become such a habit to grab at the phone that I couldn't help it.
"Yeah?"
"AJ?"
All the breath left my lungs.
"Kevyn? How are you, baby? God, I've missed you so much." It didn't even register yet that she'd called me AJ. "Do you want me to come over?"
"I think it'd be better if you didn't."
I blinked. "Oh." I couldn't tell anything by her voice. I didn't hear a smile, but I didn't hear any signs of tears, either. Suddenly I didn't feel so good. Maybe something had been wrong with dinner. "Okay. Um, why?"
"I think we should see other people."
That threw me. "You what?"
"I'm sorry, AJ."
"You're breaking up with me?" I hadn't grasped the drift of the conversation yet.
Still no emotion of any sort coming from her words. "It's for the best."
I couldn't take it anymore. "No! No, it's not, damn it. It can't be. Best for who? Best for me? Hell, no. Best for you? I don't believe it. What's going on, Kevyn? Tell me, baby, please. Did I do something wrong?"
"Look, it's just over, okay?"
"But… why? I love you."
"Don't."
I heard her breath catch. I had to believe that I was getting through to her, I had to convince her this wasn't really what she wanted to do.
"I love you, Kevyn, you know I do. You don't want this, honey. Please, you know you don't want to break up." I was begging, and I knew it. "Please, think about this."
"I have. It's over, AJ, just let it go. Find someone else. I'll send you the locket and your shirt."
Then she was gone.
"Damn it!" I cried, and threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and broke into four pieces. I didn't understand any of what had just happened, except that Kevyn had just ripped my heart from my chest. Four days of wondering if she was okay, and she was planning to break up with me the entire time.
I was angry. I was hurt, and confused, and lost. I didn't know exactly what I was, but I was a lot of it.
"See other people," I muttered, throwing pillows and stuffed animals everywhere. My mom came up to see what was wrong and I screamed at her to leave me alone. I punched a hole through my wall, and found some odd comfort in seeing the blood on my hand and feeling the pain. At least I knew how to make that feel better; I could deal with that. I couldn't deal with the emptiness that was swallowing me whole.
I washed the blood from my knuckles with water, and then poured some peroxide over them, hissing with the pain. Then I bandaged my hand, and went back to my room. I stayed up wondering what I'd done wrong to make Kevyn want to leave me, want to see other people. Maybe I should have let her see her mom. Maybe I should have called that first day. Maybe I shouldn't have been so naïve about everything.
The sun came up hours later, and I watched the sunrise with no emotion. It was beautiful, I admit, but I didn't care. The only thing on my mind was Kevyn. She'd asked me to just leave her alone, basically, but I wondered if going over to her house would do any good.
"If I could just see her…"
I got bundled up and left before my parents were awake. I fed the horses, and then drove over to Kevyn's. The road was thick with snow, and visibility was poor, and there were a few times I wasn't sure I was going to make it.
By the time I pulled up next to her house, it was just after six. I doubted she was awake yet. I didn't care, and knocked on the door anyway. I kept knocking, driving the dogs crazy, until someone answered it.
A very surprised and sleepy Kevyn stood before me.
"AJ? What on earth are you doing here so early?" She shushed the dogs.
"I have to talk to you."
She sighed. "Go home, AJ."
I refused, and finally she let me in, rather than leaving me standing out in the cold. I stopped just inside the doorway.
"Tell me why."
"Why, what?"
"Why you broke up with me."
Clear green eyes closed briefly. "I told you, AJ. I think we should see other people."
I shook my head. "I don't believe that." I glanced around, and frowned at her. "Why is everything in boxes?"
She sighed, quieter this time. "Dad wants to move back to San Francisco."
This was almost as bad as our conversation last night. "What?" If she was thousands of miles away, how was I supposed to be able to convince that we were supposed to be together? At least if she stayed here, I had a chance.
"There's nothing here for him anymore, we moved out here for mom, and most of his business is still back in California. The funeral was yesterday, and we just came home and started packing."
"So this is why. You don't want to see other people. You're moving, and didn't want to tell me. You didn't even tell me about the funeral! I would have gone, Kevyn. You know I would have gone."
She shrugged. "You didn't seem that comfortable with it all, AJ. That's why I didn't ask."
"And you are comfortable?"
No answer.
"I was trying to give you time, Kevyn. Space, whatever you needed. That's why I didn't call. I was supposed to be strong for you, you know? Someone you could turn to." I had tears in my eyes again. "I didn't know what to do, but I would have gone."
"I needed to know that you were hurting, too. I don't need Superman, AJ. I just needed you." She was so quiet, I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly.
We were already standing near each other, but I moved even closer, and told her, "I'm here. I'm here, now. Please don't send me away."
With tears in her own eyes, she looked up at me, and neither of us moved. I saw her throat move as she swallowed. Her voice broke and she uttered two words that pieced my heart back together and shattered it at the same time.
"Hold me."
I hugged her to me in a strong grip, crying into her shoulder even as she cried against mine. We both apologized until we lost track of what we were sorry about.
She pulled back some time later, and kissed my cheek, effectively erasing a stray tear. "Let me change clothes, and I'll be right back." I nodded, and watched her walk down the hall, taking my time to look around. There were boxes everywhere, labeled "Kitchen" or "Den" as appropriate. I hoped that maybe if we were back together, she wouldn't move.
Kevyn returned wearing sweats and a T-shirt, since it was fairly warm in the house, and helped me take off my coat.
"What happened to your hand?" she asked, and I looked down. "What?"
"I hit the wall," I admitted, lowly.
The redhead gave me a critical look. "When?"
"Last night."
I felt her kiss the back of my hand, and I raised my head again. "I'm sorry, Nikka. I just thought it would be better if we broke up before I left."
I shook my head. "It would never be better for anything if we broke up. You're still leaving?"
We sat down on the couch, and she nodded. "I'm not the only one leaving, AJ. Dad has his job, too, and I can't leave him alone. Not now." She caressed my cheek, and I closed my eyes. "I don't want to tie you down when I'm not even here. I don't want to stop you from being happy."
I was confused. "Tie me down from what? What else is there for me here? You are my happiness, Kevyn," I replied.
"We leave on Monday," she explained, and I realized that was only two days away. "I'll give you my number in San Francisco, and we'll give it a month. If something changes in thirty days, you don't have to call. But if you still want to be together, you can call, and we can talk."
"What time should I call?" I knew there was no way I was going to change my mind.
"Six o'clock your time." I nodded. "And you don't have to call, Nikka."
"I'll call. Will you answer?"
She nodded. "If nothing's changed."
I held her hand tightly. "I don't want to do this," I said. "I don't want you to leave. I want to go with you."
"One month, Nikka. You should get back, before your parents worry about you."
I had no idea how she could be so calm about this. "I have two days left with you," I told her. "I'm not going to waste them. Mom knows about us. I'll call her later and tell her where I am."
I helped her pack. Or at least, after she caught me taking things out of boxes and putting them back on their shelves, she got a little upset and I did as I was supposed to. She said it wasn't any easier on her, but it had to be done. I didn't agree, but I didn't want to spend our last days together angry with each other, so I said I knew.
Mom was doing pretty good at being understanding, or trying to be, so when I told her what was going on, all she said was, "Be careful, Annika. We'll see you tonight."
I told Kevyn everything that had happened, and she immediately apologized for being so angry with me when she didn't know what was going on. I shrugged it off and told her about the counseling appointment, which, coincidentally enough was on Monday.
"Maybe if you talk to them Monday it'll keep you from putting another hole in the wall," she suggested, and I rolled my eyes. She wasn't going to forget that one.
The two days went by far too quickly. I went back home that night for dinner, went right to sleep, and then got up at sunrise again and joined Kevyn for another day of packing. Patrick stayed to himself, mainly, so I didn't see too much of him, except during meals. Even then he was quiet. He was taking his wife's death very hard. Diane wanted me to be there for him, too, and I tried, but he wouldn't have any of it when I tried to start a conversation with him.
Kevyn told me he'd been like that all week.
"I think getting out of the house might help him a little, moving somewhere new."
I agreed that made sense, and by the time I had to go home that night, the house was bare. Everything was stuffed into a box of some size, labeled so the movers would know what room to put it in.
I didn't want to leave. It was nearing ten o'clock but I didn't want to go.
"Baby, you have to. I have to go to sleep, too."
"I'll stay here," I tried.
She shook her head, and kissed the edge of my jaw. "Go. This wouldn't be any easier in the morning, if you stayed."
I sighed, knowing she was right. I leaned down and kissed her once, for a long time, until she moved back. I pulled her close and buried my face in her neck, wanting to remember the way she smelled forever.
"Love," she said, kissing my ear, "you should go."
I stood up, and nodded, but couldn't make my feet move. She led me to the door, and kissed me briefly.
"One month."
"I'm counting," I replied, and left.
I went up to my room right away when I got home, and almost had a heart attack when I realized there was someone already in there.
"Dad?" I asked, feeling my heart start to beat again, albeit a little faster. His presence still scared me.
He turned around, shoe box now visible on my desk, clutching several pieces of notebook paper in his hand.
My letters from Kevyn! He was going to ruin them! I ran and snatched them from his hand before he could stop me, putting the lid back on the shoe box, protective.
"What are you doing in here?" I demanded. "Where's mom?"
"Your mother's asleep," he said. "I knew I'd find something like this. You lied to me."
I put the box back in my closet, dismayed at the mess. He must have gone though everything before he found it.
"Yeah, I lied. Did you really think I was going to talk to you when you were drunk? Get out of my room."
He took my arm, and I was afraid he was going to hit me. "You live in my house, Annika," he growled, "and you will respect me and my rules."
I just glared at him. What I was feeling for him was nowhere near respect.
"Wipe that look off your face, young lady." I didn't respond. "You will never see that girl again, do you understand me? Never! Look what she's done to you."
"What? Made me happy, made me smile? Shown me love?"
"Don't say that!"
"I love her, dad! But you don't want to hear that, do you? You don't want to hear that I'm in love, that I'm happy. You don't care. Let me go and leave me alone."
"Not until you promise you won't see her again."
I felt tears sting my eyes. "She's leaving, I don't have much of a choice."
He released my arm, then, and went back downstairs. I started cleaning my room, debating whether or not to tell my mom what happened. What could she do? I reasoned. Nothing. She couldn't make him forget what he'd read any more than she could make the bruises on my arm disappear.
There was no point in getting her upset. It wasn't like he'd actually struck me. I would just have to find more and more reasons to get out of the house. I didn't want to stay there any longer.
I thought about Bastiaan, possibly going to stay with him. But I didn't want to bother him and Bobby, nor did I want to leave my mom alone with my dad, especially since he knew now that both of his kids were gay. I suspected he'd be drinking a lot more. I wouldn't leave her to deal with that by herself; I couldn't.
By the time I finished with my room, it was close to midnight, and even if I didn't want to sleep, I was tired. I curled up on top of my blankets, not caring about the chill in the air. If I got sick, I was sure mom would stay with me, and a few days would pass that way.
I fell asleep with a single thought in my head: "Day one."
* * * * *
Day one was my first meeting with the counselor. I started thinking of everything in terms of Kevyn. How many days had gone by without her, or how many days left until I could call her. It hasn't helped my mental health any, I suppose. But I can't help it.
Mom and I went to the appointment. Dad raised all sorts of hell and said he'd never go talk to some damned shrink about what was fucked up in his life. Exact words. So Mom and I left him to his bottle.
Even though I hate to admit it, the appointment really didn't go too badly. He talked with each of us separately, my mom first, and then had us both in the room for the last few minutes. He explained that open communication was the key, and that talking to each other about what was going on might help us understand each other better. Dr. Lowen, as it were, said he would like to speak with my dad if he would come in, but I told him not to hold his breath.
I was distracted through most of the meeting, knowing at that exact moment that Kevyn was leaving. Neither my mom nor the doctor commented on it at all.
On the ride home, we tried to do what the doctor had said. Mom told me what she was feeling. I told her what had gone on the night before, and that Kevyn was moving back to California. She didn't say much of anything.
The days passed slowly. I spent a lot of time with Stacey and her mom. Dr. Lisa did wonders for my mind, allowing me to talk to her about things I was still unsure of disclosing to the counselor, and giving advice from experience. It became a second home to me. No matter what the weather, although about two weeks later the large winter storm began to move on and the snow was less frequent, I traveled over there at least once a day. They were both concerned about me and my mom, and said that if we ever needed a place to stay, to just drive over.
When day eight came around, it was time for another visit to Dr. Lowen. He gave me a tape player, this tape player, and said he wanted me to tell it everything. Anything I wanted to say, whatever I thought he needed to know, anything. He wanted to know what was bothering me, and got the feeling that one-hour sessions weren't going to be enough.
"It's like a journal," he said. He knew I had trouble writing, so this was the alternative, I suppose. "You can use it to go back over things that have happened, and maybe get a different perspective."
"Okay." I said that a lot.
I started it that afternoon. It's been three weeks. Today is day thirty. I haven't spoken to Kevyn or my brother in a full month. My mom and I have gotten a little closer, but that's about the only change. Mom's calling me that it's time to go.
Eight and a half hours until I can call Kevyn.
* * * * *
I've just finished listening to these tapes. There's not much more left to say. I started from the beginning, and here we are, at the end.
With nothing…
--------------------
I bounded down the stairs, joining my mom who was already in the car. The sun was out, though the day was still cold, and the snow just barely beginning to melt. Melted snow makes some of the nastiest slush.
"Ready to go?"
I nodded. "Yeah, sure."
"You've got the tape player?"
"Yeah."
"And the tapes?"
"Yes, mom. I have everything." My attitude hadn't improved much.
* * * * *
Dr. Lowen promised he would look at the tapes that night, and asked me what I had planned for the rest of the day.
"I'm going to call Kevyn tonight."
"Ah, that is tonight, isn't it?"
I nodded, with a sigh. He knew that; it was all I talked about the past sessions. I think he just liked repeating what I said.
"And what do you think she'll say?"
I shrugged, still not comfortable talking to him. I'd come to realize that he wouldn't leave me alone until I did, so I often told him what was on my mind, just to get it over with. "I just hope she'll pick up the phone."
"And if she does?"
"I'll tell her I love her, and nothing's changed."
"What if her feelings have changed?"
I growled at him, willing my blue eyes to send sparks. I didn't like what he was implying with the questioning. "Then she won't pick up the phone."
He changed topics, wisely. "How are things at home?"
"Just dandy," I snorted. "My dad drinks all the time, he yells at me and my mother, but she refuses to leave him. I'm never home much, I spend all my time with my best friend, and I have no idea how my brother is, before you ask. He hasn't called."
"Have you been out riding?"
"Yes, yesterday."
"Did you see those mustangs?"
I sighed. "Yes."
"And how did that make you feel?"
"Sad. The last time I saw them was with Kevyn."
"How did they look?"
"Fine. Are we done yet?"
The doctor nodded. "Yes, I'll speak with your mother, now." He'd become used to my moods, and no longer asked me to stay any longer than I wanted. If he did, I just stopped talking and stared at him until he told me to get my mom.
I wasted no time in leaving the office, calling to my mom that it was her turn. I sat in a chair in the waiting room until mom was done, walking with a tissue in her hand, which she occasionally dabbed at her eyes. If there was one thing I hated the most about the sessions, it was that my mom always ended up crying.
The day didn't end fast enough. Five-thirty rolled around, and mom called me for dinner. I wolfed down the food, having no idea what I'd just eaten, but then mom asked me to clear the table and do dishes afterwards.
As it neared six o'clock, I became more and more anxious. I finished washing the last plate at 6:07, dried my hands, and dashed up the stairs. I had bought a new phone the week before, to replace the one I'd broken, and now dialed the ten-digit number Kevyn had left me with thirty days ago.
The phone rang once.
I decided I would tell her that I missed her.
The phone rang twice.
And that I loved her, very much.
Three times.
And that I hadn't been the same since she left.
The fourth ring.
I swallowed, nervous. Surely Kevyn would answer the phone now.
The answering machine picked up, playing some generic recording about how Kevyn and Patrick were unable to answer the phone just then, but leave a message, and they'd call back just as soon as they could. Beep.
I hung up.
"She didn't answer," was all I could say. "Something changed. She didn't pick up." My hands were shaking, and I didn't know what to do. I'd planned everything out based on her answering the phone.
I didn't have a plan B. I didn't want one. Everything was supposed to work out. I'd done my part, I'd waited thirty days and called, just like I said I would. She was supposed to answer. That was just the way it was supposed to work, damn it.
The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I grabbed it before the second tone could begin to sound.
"Kevyn?" It had to be her.
The voice was gentle, but just as anxious. "AJ, did you just try to call?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry, I was making dinner and couldn't catch it before the answering machine picked up."
"Oh."
There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute, and then Kevyn spoke, with a small laugh, although forced. "So tell me, did you really call just to hear the sound of my voice?"
I couldn't think of anything else to do. I burst out in tears. "Yes. I missed you, Kevyn, I missed you so much. Nothing has changed. I still love you, I love you more than I did, I think. I've been a wreck."
"Me, too," Kevyn admitted. "God, I've missed hearing from you. And I love you, too, Nikka."
I sniffled, trying to keep myself under control long enough to talk with the woman I loved, and not ruin our first conversation in thirty days with my rampant emotions. "So, what do we do now?"
"What do you want to do, baby?"
"I want to be with you. There, in San Francisco."
Kevyn frowned at the frantic tone of my voice. "What's happening there?"
"Everything. Dad's drinking, and mom's been making me go to the counselor with her. I hate it here. I haven't talked to Bastiaan since you left. I'm practically living with Stacey. Please, let me go out there," I implored the redhead.
"I'm sorry things have been so rough, honey. It's up to you, Nikka. We'd love to have you, but ultimately, it's your choice."
My heart strained at the gentle sound of the nickname, something I'd missed for so long. "Yes."
"All right, when can you be ready?"
"Now."
Kevyn chuckled, not realizing I was indeed serious. "Well, how about if I get you a ticket for this weekend. Leaving Friday night. Will that work?"
I nodded. "Definitely."
"I'll call you tomorrow night and tell you all the details, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you so much, honey. I love you."
"I love you, too. Talk to you tomorrow."
The next phone call I made was to Bastiaan. Bobby answered, and called to Bastiaan to come take the phone, when he found out who it was.
"Hello?"
"Bastiaan, it's me. Please don't hang up."
My brother sighed. "I wouldn't hang up on you, sis. What is it?"
I told him everything that had happened since the last time they'd spoken, and filled him in on the good news of the evening.
"You're not going to take over the ranch?" he asked, surprised.
"I don't think dad would let me, even if I did." In one of his drunken rages, he had ripped apart all the deeds that had my name on it. I didn't think he'd go through the effort of getting new ones printed.
"I'm sorry for all this, Annika. You know you could have come and stayed with Bobby and me."
I shrugged, only then realizing just how much I had missed talking with my brother. I knew I had been unreasonable the last time we'd talked, but I couldn't bring myself to apologize just then. I felt better just knowing we were talking. Maybe my life would get back in order.
Apologies could wait, I figured. "It's all right. I'll be in San Francisco by the end of the week."
"Have you told mom and dad, yet?"
I shook my head. "I just got off the phone with Kevyn when I called you. I'll tell them Friday." I didn't want to give them any time to think they could change my mind. "I'm going to start packing tonight," I said, and hung up with my brother a few minutes later, glad at having fixed that relationship as well.
Breakfast Friday morning seemed to take forever, if only because I knew what was coming. After I cleared the table, I asked my parents to remain sitting, because I had something I wanted to tell them. I was nervous, but also determined. Nothing was going to keep me from Kevyn. Not this time.
"I talked to Kevyn a few days ago," I said, not bothering to sit down. "She bought me a plane ticket, and I'm leaving for San Francisco tonight."
Dad looked angry, but was silent.
Mom spoke first. "How long will you be gone?"
I took a deep breath. "I won't be coming back, mom."
Justin stood, pounding his hand on the table. Hamlet squawked. "No! You can't just run off and leave to go live with that girl!"
I knew that was going to be his reaction, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. What would I have to do to get him to be happy for me? To understand that I was finally going to have a reason to smile again?
"I'm eighteen, dad. I can do whatever I want. I won't be living under your roof anymore, so your rules don't matter." I looked to my mother again, ignoring my father as he stormed out of the room. "I'll leave you with Kevyn's number, so you can get a hold of us if you need to. Maybe you should go stay with Stacey and Dr. Lisa," I suggested. "I really don't want you to be here alone with him."
"He won't hurt me," she said, getting to her feet to fold me into a strong hug, which I returned, hoping she was right. "Promise me you'll be careful. Please take care of yourself."
I nodded. "I promise, mom." I didn't worry. I would be with Kevyn, and everything would be right in my world again. But I promised.
"I thought you didn't like all those buildings and machines."
Silence. Then, I replied: "There's a different kind of beauty in them, mom. Nothing here is beautiful to me anymore. Not even the sunrise. I can't stay here, I have to go. I know you might not understand, but my heart is there, with her. I don't know how to explain it…"
"Are you sure this is what you want?" I know mom wanted to make sure her only daughter was making the right decision.
"Not only is this what I want, but for once, I'm doing what's best. For me, and for Kevyn."
Mom took me by the hand, and started leading us up the stairs. "Come on, let's make sure you're ready to go. What time do we have to be at the airport? And then let me call Kevyn so I can talk to her." I just stared, having trouble believing this was still my mother standing before me. Maybe some fairy godmother or the good-witch had just inhabited her body.
"I understand more than you think, sweetheart," she said, noticing my look of total disbelief. "I was in love, once. It's something you don't just leave behind."
"In love with who?"
"Your father." I frowned. "Not the man I'm living with now, Annika, but the man I fell in love with so many years ago. The way he was three months ago. This isn't him."
I nodded, a little hesitantly, after I'd taken a moment or two to think about the idea. "I guess that's true. Does he… do you think he hates me, mom?"
"He loves you, honey. And he loves Bastiaan, too. He's just very confused right now, and the drinking isn't helping. Do you have some extra cash, to take with you in case you need it?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to miss you so, so much, sweetheart," she said, tears in her eyes.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
I rushed her with a strong hug, standing in the middle of my room. "Thank you. I love you."
My mother held me close. "I love you, too."
* * * * *
"Now boarding all passengers with the "A" boarding pass, for flight 772 to San Francisco. We should be pushing back from the gate on-time, at seven-thirty. Now boarding all passengers in the "A" boarding group…"
I waited until the announcement was over. "That's my group. I've got to go," I said into the payphone, watching as others around me also said their goodbyes and prepared to head back to the gate.
"All right, honey. I love you, have a safe flight. I'll see you in a few hours."
"I love you, too."
Walking towards the gate, boarding pass in hand, carry-on duffel bag over my shoulder, I smiled. It was a grin that reached all the way to my eyes. The first real smile in over a month.
"Are you just visiting San Francisco?" the attendant at the check-in asked, as he tore part of my ticket.
I shook my head, and smiled again. "No. I'll be staying."
I'm finally going home…
The man smiled, nodded, and handed me the ticket stub, which I slid into my back pocket. "Enjoy your flight."
Continued in Part 4