I had never been so terrified of anything in all my life. The plane was going to crash, I just knew it. Was it supposed to feel like that when we took off? It made me nauseas, that couldn't be right. Once we got in the air, my ears wanted to pop, and the pressure was intense.
The young boy sitting next me seemed familiar with my predicament.
"Here," he said, offering me a stick of Juicy Fruit gum.
I just stared at him.
"Your ears. It helps," he said, leaving it on my tray table beside the cup of ginger ale I'd requested from the flight attendant.
Taking it out of the wrapper and chewing it thoroughly, I found it did relieve some of the pressure in my ears, and went to thank the boy, but he already had his headphones on and was involved in his music, drumming his hands lightly on his thighs, eyes closed.
I spent most of the flight trying to sleep, but having no luck. Every time I tried to close my eyes, the plane would go through another cloud, according to the pilot, and that made me jump. The turbulence, slight as it was, would not let me even begin to fall asleep. The gum lost its flavor quickly, but I kept chewing. I even started blowing bubbles with it, just for something to keep my mind occupied, and keep me from looking out the window at the large expanse of sky and land below.
When we began our descent, I finally looked out the window. Were those noises supposed to be that loud? Why were pieces of the wing sliding back? We landed hard, and I was sure we were going too fast to ever stop. This time the force pushed me forward, and I strained to keep my head against the seat. Finally, the pieces of the wing moved back into place, and the pilot guided the plane to the gate, turning off the seat-belt sign.
Everyone began moving to retrieve their bags from the overhead compartments, but I just sat there. When everyone else had gotten off, the same flight attendant that had taken my drink order came over.
"Are you all right, miss?"
I blinked up at her. "I'm here?"
The woman nodded. "Yes, ma'am. All the other passengers have disembarked the plane already." She was kind, and understood from the white-knuckled grip I had taken to the armrest of her seat that it was probably best not to rush me into anything. "First time flying?"
All I could manage was a quick nod.
That got me a kind smile. "You did just fine. We've landed, now, and if you like, I can take your bag for you and show you to the gate." I decided that seemed like a pretty good idea, and agreed. The attendant took my arm and gently urged me from the seat, reaching down to remove the duffel bag from underneath.
"Jim, I'm going to take her to the gate," she told another attendant as we passed, and he nodded to her, before continuing to head down the aisle and check for items that had been left behind.
We walked through a ramp that I doubted would hold us. The woman beside me, who said her name was Rachel, seemed to recognize my wide-eyed look for what it was. She assured me the ramp was metal and very strong, and we would be just fine. Then there was a rush of warm air, caused by the large group of people standing just inside the door, waiting to board the plane for its next flight.
"Here you are," Rachel said, handing me my bag. "You go right through there, follow the signs, and you'll see the baggage claim, okay? You can pick up your bags there. Do you have someone waiting to pick you up?"
I nodded, shouldering my duffel bag. "Yes."
Rachel gave me another smile, encouraged by the verbal response. "They can meet you down there, but they aren't able to come up to the gate. It's a big airport, so if you get lost, you can go into any store and they'll give you directions."
There are stores in the airport? Good God, how big is this place?
"Thanks."
"Enjoy your stay." And then Rachel walked back through the door, leaving me standing amidst the hordes of people in the busy San Francisco Airport.
In the next ten minutes, I found out that the airport was actually quite large, and held a lot of stores, which were all crammed together. Some sold food, or drinks, and the large bookcases told me more than a few were offering books and magazines to read on the plane or during the wait for departure.
I picked a man out of the crowd, who looked like he knew where he was going and was only carrying one bag, and decided to follow him. He was probably going to baggage claim to pick up the rest of his bags, or so I hoped. Though once I actually looked up at the large signs, I saw one with a picture of a suitcase on it, and made a wild guess that baggage claim was in the direction of the arrow.
Spotting the boy with headphones who had given me the gum, I knew I was in the right place, and started looking for Kevyn, as well as my bag, which I figured must have been somewhere on the large metal carousel.
Twenty minutes passed before a loud and annoying beeping noise sounded, signifying that the carousel was beginning to move. Another twenty minutes passed, and bags circulated around. For once glad for my height, I was able to stand away from the crowd and still see enough of the carousel to keep an eye out for my bag. However, when the same duct-taped box went around for the fourth time, I couldn't help but begin to worry. Many of the people had already taken their luggage and left, and I was one of only three people left near the carousel; a businessman, a man in a military uniform, and a girl from Montana.
I was so out of my element.
I was sure I was at the right place, and for the correct flight…
Then, it came to me. They didn't have my luggage. Maybe they'd left them in Montana, or put them on another plane by accident. I had no idea what to do. Kevyn wasn't there yet, and even with all the people swarming in and out of the airport, I felt small and alone.
The gentleman next to me leaned down and finally picked up the box, and I decided he might know the right course of action.
"Excuse me, I think…"
But he left without even glancing at me.
I paused, and went up to the man in the green military uniform, the only one remaining at the carousel besides myself. I hadn't seen any other packages, so figured maybe they lost his luggage as well.
"Do you know…?"
He looked at me, leveling a gaze that made me stop. He wasn't in the mood to be talked to, his eyes said, and I took a step back. Walking with a purposeful stride, he entered a small room behind the baggage claim, leaving me even more alone then I'd been before.
Tears began to gather in my eyes, and I slowly made my way towards the payphones, dragging my duffel bag behind me. I didn't even know who to call. There was nothing my mom could do from Montana, and if Kevyn wasn't there yet, I guessed she was on her way and so wouldn't be at home. Sitting on the small metal seat in the phone booth, I decided I at least didn't look as lost, and put my head in my hands.
"Excuse me, are you waiting for someone?" came a voice, and I jumped, looking up to see a smiling redhead standing beside me.
Kevyn's grin faded when she saw the tears running down my face. "Baby, what's wrong?"
I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her tightly, blinking back my fear. I was sure I'd never been so happy to see another human being in my life. "I can't find my bags, and nobody will talk to me, and I don't know what to do," I admitted, and felt the embrace returned.
"I'm sorry I'm late, sweetheart, parking was horrible. Come on, let's go see about your luggage, okay?"
Standing, and feeling a little better now that Kevyn had control of the situation, I followed her closely.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know, honey. But we can go find out. And they're pretty good about getting luggage back the next day, so I bet we'll have it tomorrow morning. It's okay," she said, rubbing my back, and I tried to believe her.
We walked into the same room that the soldier had entered a few minutes before, and the woman behind the desk looked up at us with tired eyes that said she knew why we were there.
"What flight?"
I blinked at the abrupt question. "772 from Livingston."
A piece of paper was put on the counter. "Fill this out."
The color drained from my face, and the attendant gave me a strange look.
Kevyn spoke up, grabbing a pen and taking the paper easily. "That's right, you don't know the address yet, do you?" She smiled at the woman behind the desk. "This is her first visit to San Fran," she explained, filling out all the information, putting a gentle hand on my arm as she handed the paper and pen back.
"Okay. We've had trouble with a few bags from that flight, and we'll give you a call tomorrow morning around ten o'clock to give you the status. We should have them delivered to you by two in the afternoon, Ms. Mulligan."
"Thank you," Kevyn responded, and then led me from the small office, offering a concerned look as we walked. "Are you okay?"
I nodded. Having the paper given to me so suddenly, with not only an expectation but almost a command to fill in the information had startled me. "So, I'll have my things tomorrow?"
"You should, yes."
"What do I do about tonight? All my clothes are in my other bags."
Kevyn smiled softly, zipping her jacket as we walked towards the short-term parking lot. "It'll be all right," she said, and as we continued to walk, I realized what had taken her so long to get into the airport.
"So, how was your flight?"
"Loud."
The sudden burst of laughter from the woman beside me made me jump a little, and Kevyn apologized. "I'm sorry for laughing, honey, that just wasn't the answer I was expecting."
"Oh."
We finally found Kevyn's car, and as I fastened my seat belt, I told Kevyn about the small problems with turbulence and the pressure in my ears. I also mentioned that there were several times that the plane seemed like it was going to fall apart, either from pressure, or its own movements in preparation for landing, and admitted that it had scared me.
"I didn't know you hadn't flown before. I would have warned you about that," came the reply. Kevyn's hand reached out to hold mine just as though we'd only been apart a day. I happily complied.
Kevyn paid for parking, and then made her way out of the airport and onto the freeway, taking my hand once she'd settled into the far lane.
I was holding on much tighter, she realized, and glanced at me.
"What's wrong?"
I swallowed. "Do you have any idea how fast you're going?"
Kevyn chuckled. "Yes. I know exactly how fast I'm driving."
"But..." A large pickup truck passed them on the right, signaling and moving in front of them, only inches away from hitting another car, and I gasped. "Shit!"
The driver squeezed my hand. "Easy, Nikka. I promise, we'll be fine. This is the way people drive here."
"This is crazy!"
"You get used it," Kevyn said, slowing to a stop as she paid the toll, speeding up again and watching for the other vehicles merging back into their own lanes. "There's the Bay Bridge. We'll be crossing it in just a second."
"A bridge?" I was interested, now, and ignored all the other cars, paying no attention to the fact that Kevyn was driving almost ninety miles an hour. The sun was beginning to set, but I could easily see the large structure in front of us. There was no end. I could see gray metal, and cars had come from the other direction before the toll booth so I knew it had to end somewhere, logically, but had no idea where. The bridge in my dream had certainly never been this long.
"Where's the other end?"
Kevyn chuckled at the question. "Its a few miles long, baby. You'll see the other side of the bay in a few minutes." Sure enough, it didn't take long for my eyes to make out the bright lights of a city that signaled the end to the bridge. About fifteen minutes after we were back on solid ground, Kevyn made her way off the freeway and around side streets, pulling to a stop in front of a medium-sized beige house, last on the block.
"Here we are," she said, and I retrieved my duffel bag from the backseat, taking in the American flag at the front step and small potted plants with a smile. I could hear the dogs barking from inside, and my smile grew. This was something familiar.
Withdrawing a key from her pocket, Kevyn unlocked the door and motioned for me to go inside. "Dad's still working," she said, closing the door and locking it again, "but he said to tell you he'll see you in the morning. Come on, I'll show you where you can put your bag."
I followed her down the hall and into what I assumed was her bedroom, set up much the same way as she'd had it in Montana. The calendar now displayed February, I noticed, and smiled inwardly at the rainbow-colored stones.
"We don't have a guest bedroom in this house, but if you'd rather, you can stay in the den," came the offer, and Kevyn suddenly sounded nervous. I wondered if perhaps she thought something had changed, despite my profession to the contrary.
Well, that's not right, I decided, and dropped my bag by the end of the dresser, stepping closer to Kevyn and putting my arms around the petite waist, settling a soft kiss on her shoulder.
"I don't want to stay any farther from you than I have to, honey." I felt Kevyn lean against me, and nuzzled the soft neck. "I love you, Kevyn. If anything's changed, it's just that I love you more."
As if to prove it, I could feel the woman in my arms smile, recognizing the tingles with a happy heart.
"I love you, too," Kevyn returned, moving in my hold to give me a deep welcoming kiss that left both of us remembering just how long it had been. A hand on my chest stopped me from kissing her again, and for a moment, I'm sure I looked confused.
"Let's have some dinner and get you settled, baby."
Not missing the implication that we would finish later, I agreed, and helped Kevyn prepare a dinner that Patrick would be able to reheat whenever he came home. He'd been working late nights ever since they'd come back, and Kevyn said she knew it was so he wouldn't have to be around her, a reminder of the wife he'd lost. Sometimes they would eat breakfast together, but even then he was more involved in reading his paper, and rarely asked her any questions.
"It's been a long time since we really talked." I was going to offer my sympathies, but gathered that wasn't what Kevyn was searching for just then, and so stayed quiet.
While we worked, I gave Kevyn a more detailed account of just what had been going on in Montana since she left, and could almost feel the anger emanating from the small redhead. Anger… and sadness.
Before she could say anything, I bumped her gently with my hip. She glanced up, startled.
I grinned. "I'm here, honey. That's what matters now." I dropped a kiss on the fine red hair. "Let me call my mom real quick, and we can eat dinner, okay?" Kevyn agreed, and handed me the phone as she started setting the table.
I was glad when my mom answered the phone, not in the mood to deal with dad.
"Hi, mom. I'm here," I said, and Susan sounded relieved.
"I'm so glad to hear from you, honey, I was starting to get worried. How was your flight? How's Kevyn? Is everything okay?"
I chuckled at the rapid questions. "The flight was a little bumpy, Kevyn's fine, and everything's going all right. I've only been here for an hour, mom, we're just getting ready to eat dinner. But I wanted to call you first and let you know I got in safe."
"That's good, AJ. Your father is still a little upset that you left, so why don't you let me call you next time? I'll talk to you next weekend, does that sound good?"
"Sure, mom, that sounds fine. I'll talk to you later."
Susan smiled. "Good night. I miss you, baby."
I nodded. It felt strange to be talking to my mother on the phone, knowing that she was so far away. I had never been gone from home for longer than a day or two, and certainly never as far as California. That knowledge made my heart pull a little, and I had to clear my throat before speaking again.
"I miss you, too, mom. Good night."
* * * * *
Dinner went fine, though even as the dishes were washed and put away, Patrick had yet to return from work.
"How late does your dad stay at work?" I asked, closing the cupboard after putting the last glass in its place.
Kevyn shrugged, wandering into the living room, knowing I wouldn't be far behind. "He works until about five or six, and then I don't know where he goes. Sometimes to the bar, I think. It's not far from his office. He doesn't drink, or if he does, he never smells of it by the time he gets home. I think he just sits there, to be anywhere but here," she said, sinking into the couch.
I sat beside her, rubbing her knee and leaning close. "I thought things would be better if you moved out here," I murmured softly, and suddenly Kevyn was clinging to me.
"So did I," came the quiet response, and I held her tightly, rubbing her back. When just a secure hug didn't seem enough, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom and stretched out on the bed with her still in my arms, now receiving her full weight. Taking advantage of the change in position, Kevyn moved her head to my chest, laying on top of me. I closed my eyes at the feeling of holding her in my arms again.
"AJ?"
"Hm?"
The redhead placed a kiss on my jaw. "I'm glad you're here." I smiled, and agreed, shifting Kevyn above me until I could kiss her neck. Kevyn indulged in the sensation for a few moments, wordlessly encouraging me, even, until I slipped my fingertips under her shirt.
"Let me find you something to sleep in," Kevyn offered, getting to her feet quickly and searching her closet until she found what she guessed would fit, while I was wondering if perhaps I'd done something wrong to cause her sudden departure.
Having learned that keeping things, especially from Kevyn, wasn't a good idea, I sat up slowly. "Is something wrong, honey?"
Kevyn was still doing a few mental calculations as to the long shirt she held in her hands; I could almost see the thoughts going through her mind as she tried to gauge how it would fit me, and answered absently, "Of course not."
I wasn't so sure. The tone of her voice told me she wasn't certain, either. "Then why did you just get up like that?" I questioned, and all Kevyn's calculations came to a halt.
"I just thought maybe you'd be more comfortable if you could change clothes, get out of those jeans before you went to sleep," was the reply, just as unsteady as before.
Biting back a teasing comment about just how comfortable I would indeed be to get out of my jeans, I walked over to the redhead, who held the shirt in her hands, although she didn't seem to be paying any attention to it. "Kevyn, tell me what's wrong." My request was gentle, as were my hands that took the shirt and tossed it aside.
"Nothing."
"Okay. Now tell me the truth."
Deep emerald eyes found mine. "Nikka…"
"You've never pulled away from me like that before. At least, not without an explanation," I reminded, softly kissing her forehead. "What's going on?"
Kevyn wrapped her arms around me again and leaned into my embrace, resting against my shoulder. "Something changed."
I felt my breathing stop. Oh, no… "What?"
"Me."
My blue eyes showed my confusion, I have no doubt. "I don't understand, Kevyn… What do you mean?" I swallowed, feeling the fear in the pit of my stomach take hold. "Do you not want me?"
"Oh sweetheart, I do want you. So much."
"Then, what…?"
"I… I've had trouble dealing with losing my mom, and losing my dad at the same time," she said, in a voice that told me that should have explained everything. But it didn't, and I was still trying to grasp Kevyn's meaning.
I nodded slightly that I understood having a hard time; struggling, even, with the death of her mother.
Kevyn sighed, realizing she wasn't getting through to me. We heard a key in the lock, and realized her father was finally home. His presence made up her mind.
"It doesn't matter tonight, baby. We'll discuss it some other time."
I blinked at the sudden change in direction. Whatever was going on, it was obviously something that wasn't to be talked about when Patrick was around. That made me a little uneasy. Granted, the two weren't on great terms with each other, but to willingly and blatantly keep something from him…?
"Kevyn…"
"Please, sweetheart. Just get changed, and let's go to bed, okay?"
With a small frown, I agreed, and changed in the bathroom. Patrick's bedroom door was shut, indicating that he was home, but in no mood to be disturbed. I wondered how many times Kevyn had wanted to talk with her dad, but had come face-to-face with a closed door instead.
Climbing into bed beside the petite redhead, I couldn't help an inward smile when Kevyn settled against my side, arm over my stomach and head on my shoulder. I had missed the feeling of the woman every night, but now that we were together again, it was as though we'd never been apart. We still fit perfectly, both of us resting comfortably within the other's embrace.
There were things that needed to be talked about. Things that needed to be brought to light, and worked through; things that had to be discussed and solved. But not just then. For that night, there was nothing more than two bodies, two hearts, two souls… together. It was all we needed.
The next day being Saturday, as it was, Kevyn took the opportunity to sleep in. She normally didn't have a class until noon, but had taken the day off for my arrival. She would go back to work and school on Monday. But the weekend, at least she hoped, would be for her and me.
She knew enough not to hope that her father would be involved, so I was careful not to bring up any questions regarding his whereabouts. He left at seven every morning, if not earlier, weekend or not. She had gotten used to not seeing him. That didn't mean she liked it, but it was no longer unusual for her to go for days without speaking a single word to him, even in passing.
Such was the situation as she'd explained it to me. I couldn't help but worry at their distance, remembering how close they'd been before…
With a yawn, she woke up and stretched as she glanced at the clock.
"Nine-thirty," she mused. "Not bad."
I felt her eyes on me, but didn't stir. I had been up early, as was my habit, but I was quite content to just lay by her side and stay cuddled close. It had been a long time since I'd had the woman I loved so near, and my body was almost as happy as my heart. I'd slept better the night before than I had in many, many weeks, and only hoped it was the same for Kevyn.
I felt her look at me, sure that I was still sleeping deeply by her side, and the tiny smile was unstoppable - I could feel it like a wave.
When thirty days had passed, she admitted the night before, she didn't really expect me to call. She hoped with all her might, but didn't truly think it would happen. She knew I loved the ranch, and my animals, and my family. Well, my mother and brother, at least. I'd never been out of Montana. What reason was there for me to drop everything and move to San Francisco?
There wasn't one, I explained, except Kevyn. And was the love I felt enough to make me get on a plane and move away from the only home I'd ever known?
"Apparently, it is," she murmured, tucking a strand of hair back away from my face. "Because here you are…" I had one arm tucked under the pillow and the other wrapped around Kevyn, "looking peaceful and cute as you sleep." My chest moved with every breath I took, and I felt sure Kevyn was watching me breathe, proving that I was real and there. I knew, because I had done the same thing last night. I kept my eyes roaming slightly beneath closed lids, to give the appearance of dreaming.
Kevyn reached out and gently trailed her fingers through my long brown hair.
"Her family life was getting rough," she sighed, thinking out loud, caressing the dark tresses that lay beneath her fingertips. "This was the escape she needed. But this is San Francisco; the biggest city she's ever been to. Driving on the 101 last night had her scared out of her mind. Can she really live here, and be happy?
"I know she loves me." There had never really been any doubt about that, or at least, I hoped not. "And I love her. But family life out here isn't all that great, either. Since mom died, dad can hardly stand to look at me; much less live in the same house. He works all day and most of the time neither of us gets much sleep. He's working himself ragged, and I'm…"
There was a deep sigh, this time. "What have I gotten her into?" Pausing the careful ministrations to place a kiss on the crown of my head, Kevyn got lost just staring for a moment. "Can I really offer her anything better than what was in Montana?"
Feeling the heavy thoughts in the room more than the pressure of Kevyn's lips against my skin, I groaned, and slowly opened my eyes.
"Hi," I smiled, my voice still laden with sleep, attempting to look just-woken, but obviously pleased with the sight in front of me.
Fighting the dark thoughts, Kevyn forced a smile to her face, and wrestled anything else to the back of her mind.
I could see the war going on, until her green eyes cleared again. She didn't want to bother me with the ideas behind the words which she didn't know I'd heard. I would have to get her to explain it to me, without letting on that I already knew.
"Good morning." She dropped a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth. "Did you sleep well?"
"Wonderful." I grinned. "Even better dreams. What about you, honey?"
"Best sleep I've had in a long time," she admitted, and even as I began pulling her close for a proper good morning greeting, Kevyn got to her feet and decided it was time for breakfast.
"How about French toast?" she offered, heading towards the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
I frowned. This was strange. I'd have to figure out exactly what was going on with Kevyn. And soon. I wasn't sure how much more of this pulling away I could take.
* * * * *
My suitcase was delivered at ten-thirty, and the airport called at eleven, to make sure it had arrived and everything was taken care of. Kevyn thanked them, and assured them everything was fine. I happily changed into my own clothes, and then sat down with my girlfriend to enjoy the rest of our breakfast-turned-brunch.
"This tastes great," I complimented, and Kevyn was pleased she had a chance to show me her own culinary skills.
"I'm glad you like it."
I nodded, finishing my glass of cranberry juice before asking, "So, what's the plan for today?"
Kevyn began clearing the table. "Whatever you want, baby. If you want to unpack first, that's fine. We can visit downtown and I can show you around a few places, or we can stay in and relax." She placed a kiss my shoulder as she came back to the table and collected my plate, telling me to remain sitting. "I know how jetlag can be. Anything is just fine."
Pretending to think about it, though I was feeling a little tired and hoped to get some serious talking done, I decided exploring the great city of San Francisco could wait for a little while.
"I think, right now, it'd be nice just to stay around here. But maybe tonight we can go somewhere…?"
Kevyn chuckled softly, but agreed. "If you're up to it, sweetheart. Feel like unpacking for a bit?"
"Sure."
I had brought mostly clothes, but a few knick-knacks and sentimental items as well, and Kevyn found places for everything. She had cleared out two drawers and some closet space three days before, and I felt appropriately moved-in just a little while later. A few picture frames of my own set near Kevyn's, and my art portfolio was beside the desk, close to Kevyn's collection of writings. Yes, the familiarity that caused brought with it a nice sense of belonging.
Two of the dogs came in from playing outside, and panted in the doorway for a few moments before Kevyn called them in to lie down. They flopped down at her feet, apparently having no trouble remembering their other mistress, greeting me with a nonchalant look of hello. Either that or I guessed they were too worn out to care. Being a good-sized house on the corner of the block, they had a large front and back yard, plenty of room for even a half-dozen canines to romp until their hearts were content.
Enjoying the sight of my most precious items mingled in amongst Kevyn's, I pulled the petite redhead into my arms and kissed the base of her neck.
Green eyes danced at the unexpected affection. "How about a movie, baby?"
I quickly agreed. Cuddling on the couch sounded fun, and often led to something even more entertaining than the film.
"Go pick something out, if you recognize anything, and I'll be right there."
Heading into the living room while Kevyn made a stop down the hall, I scanned the cases until a scene caught my eye. I raised an eyebrow. Two girls, obviously in a romantic film. What was more, they were both of different races. That sounded like it promised to be an interesting watch, I decided, and pulled it from the shelving under the television cabinet.
"Find something?" Kevyn grinned when I held up my choice. "The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love it is," she nodded, putting the DVD in the player and grabbing the remote. I made myself comfortable on the couch, and pulled Kevyn towards me when she was within reach.
"What happened here?" I asked, as I traced a scrape on the inside of her forearm. It didn't appear to be infected, but she flinched a little when I moved my fingers over the light scab.
"Oh, nothing. I just scratched it on the corner of my desk at school the other day." Kevyn masked the gesture of shrugging off any further questions by snuggling closer to me, whispering, "Shh, it's starting."
I sighed. I couldn't have missed that change of subject if a plane suddenly landed in the living room, but played along for the time being, and wrapped my arms around Kevyn securely, not mentioning anything else. Kevyn was hiding something, not just from Patrick, now, but from me, as well. And that made me more than a little uneasy. Before long, I'd have to start some gentle prying.
* * * * *
That "before long" actually turned out to be quite soon. I had pulled Kevyn nearer, holding her securely, and had - rather absently - began lightly rubbing her side. When the redhead shifted a little at that, I did my best not to feel hurt by what I perceived as rejection, and moved the attention to a safer body part - like her stomach. My hand there, gently, often relaxed her. This only caused Kevyn to stiffen up even more.
I sighed, and reached for the remote, hitting pause. We had barely gotten through the first few scenes; the actresses had yet to kiss, for crying out loud!
"Kevyn, what's going on?"
"What are you talking about?" was the counter.
A dark eyebrow was raised just slightly to imply that I wasn't buying it.
"Nikka, what are you talking about?" Kevyn wasn't going to just give in.
I shook my head. "Open communication, Kevyn. Come on, honey, talk to me. I know something's wrong, but you're not telling me what it is. So, again… what's going on?" Dr. Lisa and Stacey had insisted it was important that I talk about things, especially with Kevyn. Not mentioning how I was feeling could be more painful in the long run, they'd said. I decided I would work on that, and see how it turned out.
Kevyn moved even farther away, now, putting nearly a foot between us. She was quiet for a beat too long, before replying, "Nothing, Nikka. Really."
A little anger began to mix in with my hurt and concern. "You're lying to me."
Emerald eyes were dim, but still managed to look indignant at the accusation.
"You were going to tell me last night, before your dad came home. He's not here now, baby, and you know better than I do that he's probably not going to be back any time soon. So talk to me. Please, honey. Don't shut me out like this, don't push me away." Blue pools of sapphire flashed gray with the strength of love I was trying to send to the woman across from me. "I want to be here for you, Kevyn."
With a deep sigh, Kevyn agreed that I was right. She wasn't being fair. And besides, she had said we'd discuss it later…
Removing her shirt to reveal just her bra underneath, she waited.
I frowned. So Kevyn took off her shirt… what did that have to do with the price of tea in China? Remembering the reaction I'd gotten after touching her side and stomach, I let my eyes drift over the said expanses of skin, and I raised my head quickly to meet Kevyn's gaze when it hit me.
Scratches. A few had bruises around them. Some were fading into a yellowish color, while scabs were beginning to form on the cuts, although several more were obviously fairly recent. Only one mark was on her arm, already almost healed, which she'd said was from an accident at school, and the rest were along her upper abdomen.
I could feel crimson begin to cloud my vision. My fists clenched, and I growled, "He's hurting you?" I was going to kill him. That's all there was to it. Blood relation, father or not, he was a dead man.
Kevyn blinked, obviously surprised. "What?" Then she realized what I was thinking. "Oh, no. I don't think dad would ever lay a hand on me, he's not around enough anyhow."
"Then, who…?"
"Me."
I fell silent for a moment, absorbing that, cooling my temper from a boiling rage to something more conducive to understanding with some semblance of control. "You…"
Kevyn nodded. "I just had so much… I don't know… anger, sadness… feeling, I guess. There's just so much, it makes me numb inside, and I can't take it. I thought maybe if I could turn it into something tangible… If I could feel something…"
Seeing Kevyn look so depressed and so upset with herself, wanting to explain but not finding the words, I reached out and placed my right hand on her knee, squeezing gently.
"Honey, I think this is what you might call preaching to the choir." Kevyn looked up, frowning slightly. Bringing my hand into the space between us, I flexed my fingers a few times. The scars on my knuckles were still dark and angry, though the scabs had healed almost completely. The deep purple would fade into a red, and eventually, all that would be left as evidence to my bout of rage would be a mar on my skin from the healed tissue.
"I know about wanting to make pain into something physical, baby. Something you can deal with. You can bandage cuts and watch them as they heal. You can't do that with what you feel inside. And it just seems to be flowing in your blood, making it burn. If you can just let it out, you think you'll feel so much better." I joined our hands easily. "I understand, Kevyn. If I hadn't been able to spend most of my time with Stacey and Dr. Lisa, if I'd have had to stay in the house, feeling my dad always around, there'd be a lot more holes in my wall and a lot more scars on my hands. You haven't had anywhere else to go besides here, baby, no one to talk to about this. Until now."
Pulling the injured arm closer, I placed a few soft kisses on the cut, until Kevyn had tears streaming down her face, and I pulled her onto my lap into a fierce embrace. "I'm here now, sweetheart. We can do this together, okay?" I kissed the side of her head. "Talk to me. I'm here. I'll always listen."
Kevyn cried into my shoulder, clutching to me with all her strength. Rocking us back and forth, I held her close and kissed her face, stroking her hair continuously, and always - always - ensuring Kevyn of my presence. There would be no overnight fix of this… I knew that. But together, we could find a way through it; find a safer outlet for Kevyn's heaviest feelings.
We had to.
The movie was forgotten as we fell asleep, never losing our hold on each other. I awoke a few hours later, the TV playing static as the pause had long since worn off, a crick in my neck and a stiffness to my shoulder, but I didn't dare move. Kevyn was sleeping soundly, peacefully, sprawled out on top of me, hands clasped around my neck, which accounted for the crick, I guessed. The head of tousled red hair was lying on my shoulder, very nearly buried there. I didn't mind the position, myself.
Focusing on not disturbing her, I thought about what Kevyn had told me, and how I could help.
Dr. Lowen gave me the tape recorder because I couldn't write in a journal, I remembered. I wonder how long it's been since Kevyn did any writing. Maybe she could work on writing in a journal… It was another way to express your feelings, I knew, and understood you could write anything that was building and tangling inside and let it out, and then throw it away.
Kissing the top of her head, I reminded myself to ask Kevyn about the possibility of turning to her writing instead of cutting. Placing soft kisses against the red hair, I glanced up when the front door opened. Patrick was home, probably for lunch. Realizing that Kevyn was still sound asleep without her T-shirt on, I grabbed the Afghan from the back of the couch and covered her, watching the man walk into the house.
He appeared a little surprised at seeing us still in the house.
Upon noticing his sleeping daughter, however, he merely nodded and entered the kitchen, moving quietly.
I sighed. Kevyn had been right; it didn't seem that Patrick wanted to b in the same room with her, much less inquire as to how she was feeling. Nor did he seem particularly concerned with me being there, not giving me so much as a "Hello", or a "Welcome."
Maybe he didn't realize what he was doing, when it came to ignoring Kevyn. I decided I'd have to talk with him about that.
Within ten minutes, he was gone again, having made a sandwich and taken a container of leftovers from dinner the night before as his lunch.
The door was shut and locked, and I removed the blanket so Kevyn wouldn't be too warm. I wouldn't say anything to my girlfriend about the lunch-time visit, for fear of making her feel even worse about missing a chance to see her father.
Reaching for the remote control, carefully, so I didn't bother Kevyn, I channel-surfed for about twenty minutes before finally deciding on cartoons. There appeared to be a marathon of episodes featuring a yellow sponge as the main character... I was strangely intrigued.
Kevyn awoke in the middle of the second episode, and chuckled, startling me a bit.
She gave me an amused look, upon noticing my choice of entertainment.
I shrugged. "Only thing on." I turned my attention to the red-head. "How are you feeling?"
Kevyn smiled, a genuine smile, and I felt the familiar tingling sensation come back even stronger. "Better." She was quiet for a moment, and then leaned closer to say, "Thank you, for listening."
I pulled her closer, and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "Always. Do you want to finish the movie?"
"Sure."
We finished watching the movie in silence, although for the most part, it was a comfortable one. Kevyn was still a little tense, but put her T-shirt back on and seemed to relax a bit more. I began to understand that she was so used to hiding the marks, and even though I knew, she still felt better with a shirt over them. I kept this in mind, and was careful to avoid rubbing her sides, although I still kept a tight hold.
"Honey?" I asked, when the DVD had been replaced in its case and rightful place on the shelf.
She was in my arms again, curled close, and gave a sound that I took as a sign for me to continue.
"I was thinking… have you been keeping up on your writing lately?"
If she knew where I was going with the question, she didn't let on. "Not very much, no. Class keeps me busy."
I kissed her hair. "Maybe you should try taking it up again."
"Why?"
"I think… well, maybe it will help so you do that instead of cut," I said, explaining my thoughts in a rush of air, somehow irrationally afraid in that moment that perhaps she would be upset with me for trying to tell her what to do, maybe it was something too personal, yet….
She sat up a little more, taking my hands in hers. "Nikka, I appreciate the suggestion. And I think it's a good one. But this isn't just about having another outlet for what I'm feeling. It's like… an addiction. It gives me something to feel; granted, pain, but still. I feel something when I'm just numb inside from everything." She interlaced our fingers, and squeezed my hand gently. "That's why there are cuts on my stomach… every time I breathe, I feel them pull and it reminds me, again. Or I turn in my seat to talk to someone, and…
"Writing on paper can't do that."
I must have had some sort of blank expression on my face, because she sighed quietly.
"It's not just seeing the blood and being able to do something about it, Annika. It's also feeling the pain. Knowing that I can feel. Cutting reminds me that I'm alive, even when all there is, is emptiness inside.
"I've cut before. I had stopped about six months before I met you. I was determined to stop. Even with everything that happened with my mom getting sick, I wasn't going to cut. I threw myself into my writing, but the thing was, I got addicted to that, too. I would stay in my room, just writing, not really saying anything, just writing, for hours. I was late to school a few times because of it, and when my teachers started getting on me about not being on time, I slowly pulled myself out of it.
"And by that time, I knew about Tamara, and we knew the extent of mom's cancer. I wanted to cut so bad when I found out," she confessed, "but I didn't. I stayed out in the living room with mom and dad, just so I wouldn't be in my room, so I wouldn't be tempted by anything I knew I kept in there. I kept myself really busy, to try not to think about it.
"But, then, with everything lately…" She sighed. "The urge came back and I couldn't fight it."
I admit the first thought that brought into my mind scared me. Yes, I'd given in to my own feelings of self-injury, what with my bout with the wall, but as of yet, it seemed my talks with Stacey and Dr. Lisa had stopped an addiction from forming. Kevyn hadn't had that. She was addicted to the feeling, she said so herself. Where could that lead?
"Kevyn, I don't… I don't want you to die."
"I don't want to die either, Nikka," she replied, evenly. "Honey, this isn't about committing suicide. I don't want to do that." Red hair shifted as she shook her head slightly. "I don't expect you'll understand completely, baby. But I'm glad you want to."
I processed this. "Of course I want to, Kevyn. I want to help you; I want you to know you can talk to me about this. About anything."
She kissed my palm. "I do know, Nikka."
It was agreed then, silently, that there would be no more talk about cutting today. I had plenty to try and wrap my mind around, and I was sure that the conversation had drained Kevyn enough already. I didn't imagine it was easy for her to discuss.
"Hey," I smiled softly, kissing her shoulder, "what's a girl got to do to convince her lovely girlfriend to have dinner with her?"
She returned my smile, and got to her feet, leaving me sitting on the couch. "Now, that depends on who's cooking."
"Me!"
Kevyn laughed. "Well then, that's all the convincing I need."
Dinner was uneventful, unless you count the fact that I insisted on feeding Kevyn a few carrots by hand, which of course led to her doing the same for me. This, in turn, gave way to a heated kissing session in the kitchen, dinner forgotten for nearly half an hour. I suppose what I meant to say before is that when we returned to our chairs to finish dinner, it went by uneventfully.
We saved a portion for Patrick and Kevyn put it in the microwave, leaving him a note on the table to let him know there was dinner waiting for him.
Then we decided it was time for bed. We both changed into our pajamas, Kevyn opting to change in the bathroom. I didn't say anything. She still wasn't comfortable with me seeing the marks, and I decided I could be okay with that if she needed
She curled up against me like always, and we fell asleep in just a few minutes, our breathing evening out to a single rhythm. I realized that for everything that may happen, for anything we might tell one another or for anything we might keep from each other, we would always have a connection our subconscious would recognize, if nothing else. In sleep, we sought the other's presence.
That thought comforted me, and I drifted off easily.
I felt Kevyn stretch beside me the next morning, and wondered what she was doing up so early. I doubted it was past six.
She kissed my forehead. "Time to get up, honey."
I blinked. "Why? What time is it?"
"Almost nine," came the reply, "and if we're going to see the city, we'd better get started."
Almost nine? Wow. I'd slept a long time… "The city?" I was awake. I dressed quickly, and then urged Kevyn to hurry.
She chuckled at my enthusiasm. "Do you want breakfast before we go, or would you rather eat somewhere in the city?"
I thought about that for a moment. "Maybe somewhere in the city."
"Okay, baby. Well, are you ready to go?"
I grinned, and kissed her softly. "Yeah. Let's go."
She took my hand and we walked out the door. When we didn't stop at the car, I gave her a confused look.
"Parking is tough, not to mention expensive if you can find it. We'll walk around for a little while and then take BART downtown and then MUNI to the Castro district."
"BART?"
"Bay Area Rapid Transit," she explained. "It's kind of like a train. MUNI is similar."
"Oh. And what's the Castro district?"
She smiled, and squeezed my fingers before releasing my hand as we reached the corner of the street. "I think you'll like it," was all she said.
I decided she would know better than me when it came to things to do in the area, so told her she was probably right.
When we got to the BART station, she put money in a machine, and pulled out a ticket, giving it to me before feeding the machine more bills for her own ticket.
"Don't lose that, baby."
I put it in my back pocket, but then she walked towards a small entryway guarded with a turnstile of sorts. Putting the ticket in a slot in the top, it popped up on the other side and the thick plastic pieces slid apart to let Kevyn through. I did the same with mine, and then replaced it in my back pocket.
"I thought we were going to have breakfast first."
We walked up to a platform, and Kevyn sat down on a large round bench as she replied, "We are, baby, but we've got to get into the city first."
I sat down beside her. "You mean, what we walked through wasn't San Francisco?"
"Oh, no. San Fran is much bigger."
"Bigger?" Livingston was a good-sized city, but the streets we'd just strolled through seemed to house the same population. And here she was telling me that San Francisco itself was even larger?
Wow. It had to be the size of Montana.
She chuckled, and then pulled me over to a chart mounted on the wall. "See this line?" I nodded. "We're here, at El Cerrito del Norte." I had no idea what that meant, but I was pretty sure it wasn't English.
"We'll go here," she pointed to a dot a few inches away, "Civic Center, to get downtown. And this," another dot near the center, "is the stop for Castro. We can transfer at MacArthur.
"If you ever want to ride on your own, you can count the number of stops if you want, but just about anyone will help you, I'm sure." I looked at the map, making a note of which dots I would need to remember. "Okay?"
Just then, a rather monotonous mechanical voice over the loud speaker announced, "Outbound train to SFO will be arriving in two minutes."
"That's us." Leading me by the hand, we stood by the platform for a few minutes, and I watched the different people that walked past us. Some were in business suits, or casual clothes, and one boy that looked to be about sixteen was wearing all black with spiked hair and earrings in more places than just his ears. He held my attention until a screeching of brakes and rush of air told me the BART train had arrived. It came to a sudden stop, and the doors slid open suddenly.
Kevyn and I merged into the crowd of people and made our way onto the train. Leaving the front seats open for any elderly or handicapped travelers, I followed the small redhead a few cars back to one that was mostly empty, taking two seats in the rear.
"We're going to be moving backwards, honey, is that okay?"
I didn't quite understand, but agreed. Taking a look around, I saw advertisements plastered on the top of the wall near the ceiling, above metal pipes that served as handholds if one had to stand, I assumed, and a sign showing there was no smoking allowed, nor food or drink permitted. The few people who were occupying other seats in the section all seemed involved with their newspapers or books, and I felt no one was really paying any attention to us, so I reached out and rested my hand on Kevyn's knee, obscured as we were by the seats in front of us.
She smiled and covered my hand with hers.
Then an electronic ding sounded and a voice warned us that the doors were closing.
And then we were moving. The sensation of speeding through a darkened tunnel backwards had me more nauseas than flying in a plane, I quickly decided, and began to look for a seat that was facing the same direction that the train was going.
Kevyn noticed my slight discoloration for what it was, and walked with me to a different seat, holding on to the metal poles along the top to keep our balance.
I felt much better once I sat down in the new seat, and looked around to see if anyone else had been as disoriented as me.
No, it appeared they were all used to it.
Our stop arrived rather quickly, and I was glad we'd chosen a car that wasn't very crowded when I saw the hordes of people rushing the doors when they opened. A few people were even pushing bicycles, and I watched, intrigued, wondering if they rode them everywhere.
As other people began to board the train we'd just vacated, I realized Kevyn was no longer beside me, and panicked that I had lost her in the crowd. Stretching to my full height, I searched for the crop of fiery red hair, and tried to remember just what she was wearing.
Winding my way through the mass, I stepped free of the rush and looked around again. Still not seeing Kevyn, I began to panic a little. There was no way I could find my way around San Francisco. I could probably get back to the house, but we were planning to spend the day in the city, and I didn't want it to be over before we'd gotten started.
Then, suddenly, she was there, grasping my hand.
"Are you daydreaming, honey? Come on."
I didn't mention my moment of anxiety, and simply shrugged, letting her lead the way, never taking my eyes off her.
I was amazed by all the large buildings. She pointed out a huge Borders bookstore, and something called "The Cheesecake Factory". Walking along the streets and into the area designated "Union Square", I watched a few people throwing a Frisbee in a nearby park, and even more sitting under trees with books to read, enjoying the weather. Two or three others were jogging on the sidewalk, easily moving around those that were standing or walking, with only a quick call of, "On your right," or, "Coming up on your left".
"Any ideas on breakfast, baby?"
I shook my head, still fascinated by all the sights. "Whatever you'd like is fine," I replied absently, enjoying the people-watching.
Noticing that I was distracted, Kevyn smiled softly. "We'll go to the Cheesecake Factory some time for dinner, Nikka."
She pointed out the other buildings, like the Disney store and a Tiffany's, and a Westin hotel. I was amazed that so many buildings were crammed together in the same area. It was just like the shops at the airport.
"Are you hungry?"
"A little." I laughed to myself as a girl, the only one playing Frisbee with a group of guys, leapt into the air for a spectacular catch. I took back what I'd thought before about colors or plants being of a lesser quality in the city. The bright, lush grass together with the healthy trees was green enough to nearly be overwhelming.
Kevyn bumped my shoulder. "You're so helpful. Do you want to just get something in Castro? We can head that way in a little bit."
That was agreed, and we spent another half hour just touring the area, before getting back on BART and finding the MUNI transfer-station that would take us to our next destination.
"And this time we'll be getting off at the Castro Street stop." The K Line Outbound was the one we were waiting for, but it arrived fairly quickly, and when my stomach began to growl, Kevyn assured me it wasn't a very long ride.
If Kevyn noticed any of the strange looks we received from a few of the passengers as we exited, she didn't give any indication.
When we climbed the stairs to the street level, the first thing I noticed was the large rainbow flag. It was almost impossible to miss. And then, at every corner and in front of almost every shop there were smaller rainbow flags. The sidewalk was already quite full of people, taking their turns at the crosswalk. More than a few were taking their dogs out for a walk, too.
We walked over to the Castro Theater first, not to see a movie, just because Kevyn told me it was very much a famous theater. I figured telling people I'd been inside the famous Castro Theater would probably sound pretty good. A man inside explained about the restoration efforts after the original structure was damaged in a fire, and my focus was on the large chandelier hanging above our heads.
It was decided we would come back at another time to watch a film on its only screen.
Before we went any further, we had a quick lunch at a small café. The waitress that served us was very entertaining. She greeted us with, "Well, come on in, baby. Come on, have a seat right here. Here are your menus, honey, and I'll be right back to get your drinks." Then she bustled off to help other customers, returning a second and third time to our table, bringing us a wonderful meal. I had macaroni and cheese, a fact which caused Kevyn to give me a fond look I didn't quite understand.
After bidding our waitress goodbye, Kevyn urged me to walk around to the side of the restaurant and take a look. A huge and intricately detailed mural had been drawn, depicting several people and scenes, such as a police officer with a big heart - literally, a body that seemed to be flying, naming the five Chakras which Kevyn explained to me briefly. I took my time examining the work for its style and content, loving all the history and warmth of which it told. I especially enjoyed the few bricks at the top, on which people had painted the date and their names, which Kevyn read. Most were couples with dates more than twenty years before, and I smiled to myself, wondering if they were still together.
No reason that they couldn't be, I mused, happily, thinking of how I hoped Kevyn and I would still be as in love with each other in twenty years as we were right then.
Then we browsed the numerous stores. I never knew so many things could be made in rainbow patterns. Kevyn bought two candles and a card she found to be amusing.
When I asked her who she was going to send the card to, she chuckled. "No one, honey. I just think it's funny."
We came to a bookstore, and wandered inside. Or, more accurately, Kevyn seemed to gravitate towards it without realizing it, and I followed.
"It'll just take a minute, I only want to see if they have a few books I've been waiting for," Kevyn explained, and I got the feeling she was worried that the environment would make uncomfortable or something.
"Take as long as you need," I smiled, content to trail behind patiently as she scanned the shelves.
It was mostly women in this particular shop, although a few men were glancing at titles, too. One couple with a small baby in a stroller caught my attention, and I watched them for a moment while Kevyn continued her search.
One woman, with medium-length brown hair and a rainbow bracelet, was looking at the books stocked on the shelves while her blonde partner kept the baby giggling.
"How about this one?" the brunette asked, and the blonde took a moment to read the back of the book.
"I think she'll like it." She turned to the youngster, eyes wide, asking, "What do you think, little one? Do you think your Aunt Jill is going to like this book?"
The child, who couldn't have been more than about seven or eight months, I guessed, laughed her agreement, immediately thereafter attempting to eat her feet.
"Here, I'll take her. Come here, precious. Mama's gonna tickle you!"
Smiling warmly, the blonde kissed the top of her partner's head, tucking the book under her arm as the three made their way to the front counter to pay, discussing where they would stop for lunch, or whether the baby was ready for a nap.
The sight stayed with me for the rest of the day, leaving me with a combined feeling of happiness and yearning.
Having found what she was looking for, Kevyn came up to me after she'd paid for the books. Finding me staring down an empty aisle, a bit lost in my thoughts, as I was, she asked, "Is everything all right?"
I smiled. "Yeah," and kissed the top of her head.
There was a Starbucks not far, so we stopped in for a cup of coffee and caramel apple cider, for me. I grinned to myself when I realized there was a dog bowl chained just outside the door, specifically so people could stop and let their dogs enjoy a drink, too. I assumed Castro was also known for its friendliness towards canines.
* * * * *
We watched people interact with the dogs and their owners, both getting much attention. I questioned if Kevyn had ever brought her dogs to the area, but she laughed and said if she took one, the others would be jealous, and walking all six of them at the same time wasn't a bright idea.
She knew that from experience.
After about another half-hour of wandering the streets of Castro, we took MUNI and BART back to the house. More of the cars were filled with people on the way back, so I sat a few inches away and kept my hands in my lap, careful of my actions, not wanting to do anything to draw negative attention to us. As it was, I could see a few people talking lowly to their seatmates, then looking over at us with a short nod.
It wasn't a happy look, either. I wasn't sure Kevyn noticed, though how she could miss even the feeling of hostility, I didn't know.
When our stop came, we walked through the station wordlessly, not speaking until we were outside.
"Did you see the looks they were giving us?" I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets. I still felt their eyes on us, and it made me feel a little uncomfortable.
Kevyn rested her hand at the small of my back, the most comforting motion she dared. "Yes. I didn't keep an eye on them, but I didn't have to. I knew they were there, and I knew what they were saying."
I blinked. "What?"
Her hand dropped as we crossed the street to her block. "It's not important," she said. "They were just talking."
The moment we stepped foot in her house, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her close against me. "I've wanted to do that all day," I admitted, feeling her smile and lean back to return the embrace.
I sat down and sketched a little after dinner, encouraging her to sit beside me with her journal. But she didn't write. After ten minutes of simply staring at the blank page, just holding the pencil lax in her hand, she sighed and gave up.
I wondered what those people on the train had said.
She placed the items on the coffee table. "Would it bother you if I watch TV for a little while?"
"Not at all," I replied, reaching for a green pencil from the extensive kit I'd received for Christmas.
She started watching an improvisation comedy show, as it was, and once I was finished giving a rough form to the people in my drawing, I joined her. The show was quite funny, and the actors came up with some outrageous responses to the topics.
At ten, when the local news station began announcing the latest headlines, I stifled a yawn and decided it was time to get some sleep. As much fun as we'd had visiting the city, it had definitely worn me out. Patrick had come home about an hour before, walking directly to his bedroom without so much as a glance at either one of us. Kevyn didn't seem to pay any attention, and I guessed she was used to the treatment.
I placed a soft kiss on the crown of red hair. I didn't have to move very far, seeing how she'd fallen asleep against my shoulder almost twenty minutes earlier.
"Sweetheart," I called, rubbing her shoulder. "Come on, time for bed. You don't want to sleep out here, anyhow." With my right arm tingling as it was, I didn't trust that I would be able to carry her. Waking her gently, I urged her to get changed so we could go to bed and she could go back to sleep.
By the time I'd taken my sleep clothes from the second drawer of the dresser and emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, Kevyn was sprawled out on the bed, apparently having decided changing wasn't all that necessary. Her pajamas were still folded on the side table where I'd left them for her. I wasn't sure she'd be comfortable sleeping in jeans, but assumed she didn't mind, judging by the soft snores I heard.
Smiling fondly, I slipped under the covers carefully and stretched out beside her. Not that I really worried about waking her. As sound asleep as she was already, I doubted jumping on the bed would do anything to disturb her.
No sooner had I settled myself, than she moved closer, throwing an arm over my chest and grasping my shoulder, holding me where I was. I wrapped my other arm around her, and she snuggled into my side.
"Thank you for a wonderful day," I murmured, before closing my eyes and falling into a slumber as deep as that of the woman beside me.
I was awakened the next morning by the sound of a drawer slamming shut.
Seeing me stir, I got a small smile. Kevyn dropped her pajamas on the floor with no hesitation, dressing quickly
As she tucked her shirt into her jeans, she walked over and kissed my forehead. "I didn't mean to wake you, baby. Go back to sleep. I'm just running a little late this morning." She turned to grab a jacket, and I glanced at the clock.
"It's only seven-fifteen," I noted, stretching my arms over my head. "I thought your first class wasn't until eight."
"On Mondays and Wednesdays, you're right." A brush was taken to the fine red hair, quickly. "But I still have to get to BART and catch the car to Berkley."
"Oh."
She picked up her backpack and settled it over one shoulder. "Anything you want to eat or drink, just help yourself. You know that, right?" Another kiss, to my cheek this time. "I love you. I'll see you after work tonight."
"Love you, too."
And she was out the door.
I took a long shower, simply standing under the spray of hot water for several minutes. By the time I had toweled dry and changed into comfortable clothes for a day around the house, it was time for Kevyn to begin class.
Finding a box of oatmeal, I made myself some breakfast and ate at the kitchen table as I watched the clock change to display 8:30. I washed and dried my bowl and spoon and put them away before wandering into the living room, turning on the TV, and feeling my brain cells die for about an hour and a half.
"Two hundred channels and nothing on," I groaned, giving up on the TV and turning on the radio instead. I took out my portfolio and drew for a little while as I listened to the local pop station.
When noon rolled around, I picked up the phone and debated calling my mom. I missed her, and wondered what she was doing just then, if she and my father were getting along. Maybe there were better off now, since I'd left.
Or maybe I would call Stacey. No, she'd be at school. It was two in the afternoon in Montana, and I knew high school was still in session, at least for another hour. Not that it mattered in regards to Stacey. She didn't have any high school classes in the afternoon, although she had told me just before I left that she was beginning to take some credits at the local community college, in an effort to get a jump start on her prerequisites for a degree. I was proud of her.
But that meant she wouldn't be at home.
I still remembered the phone number my brother had given me for his apartment. He was probably my best change at having someone other than my father answer, and at catching someone at home.
The first time I dialed, I forgot about the area code and had to apologize to a non-English speaking woman for almost five minutes before she understood that I'd called the wrong number by accident.
Dialing the full eleven digits this time, it rang two times before a deep voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Bobby, this is AJ. Is my brother there?"
The man smiled into the phone. "Good to hear from you, AJ. But I'm afraid Bastiaan isn't home right now. He has home period for the sixth hour, so he should be here in just a few minutes, though."
I sighed, disappointed. "Okay. Well, can you tell him I called?"
"Of course…" He paused, and I heard the squeak of a door as it swung open. "Oh, he just walked in. Hold on a moment."
I heard my brother's voice as he greeted his partner.
"There's a phone call for you, Bastiaan."
"Who is it?"
Bobby chuckled. "Just go say hi."
A muffled sound as he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hey, Bastiaan."
"Annika!" he exclaimed, and I grinned. "How are you? Is everything okay?"
"It's good," I said, reclining on the sofa. "I'm staying with Kevyn in California right now. Her dad is still really upset about losing Diane, and it seems like he puts a lot of that on Kevyn. But Kevyn and I are doing great."
"That's good. I'm so glad you called, sis."
"Me, too. Have you heard from mom lately?"
"Bobby, can you take this bag for me, honey? Yeah, just put it in the living room. I'll have to work on it in a few minutes." Turning his attention back to me, he replied, "She called just yesterday, actually. Said that dad hasn't been drinking as much the past few days, if only because he has to stay around the ranch now. Neither of us is there to help him any.
"Mom said she wouldn't be surprised if he decided to downsize the herd so he could manage them himself. You know he'd rather not have to hire anyone new for something he can do on his own."
I nodded. "Yeah. Mom always said he was too stubborn about that. But at least he's not drinking." I thought of Kevyn's own admitted addiction, and wondered if one day she wouldn't feel the urge anymore. If maybe there was something I could do to help…
"AJ? You still there?"
"Oh," I blinked. "Yeah, sorry." I wanted to tell my brother everything. I knew I could depend on him to have some good advice, he might even know just what to do. But I bit my tongue. I had no place telling Bastiaan what was going on. Kevyn would surely be upset with me, if I did.
No, this was one I had to figure out on my own.
My brother chuckled, having no clue as to my solemn musings. "Got distracted by something bright and shiny, huh?"
I growled at him, and wished there was a way to reach through the phone line and poke him in the forehead. "I'll show you bright and shiny…"
He laughed. "It really is good to hear you're doing better, AJ. Give me your number there, and next time, I'll call you. But I've got to get going, now. We need to eat lunch and I've got some homework yet."
"Okay, Bastiaan," I agreed, reciting Kevyn's phone number to him as he jotted it down. "You guys take care. Love you, bro."
"I love you too, AJ. Talk to you later."
And I was left with a dial tone.
I decided to try giving Stacey a call, but four rings later I was met with an answering machine. I left a short message with Kevyn's number if she wanted to return my call.
Then, I took a chance after all, and dialed the number that would ring the phone in my parents' kitchen. In the middle of the third ring, the voice of Justin Mulligan came across the line.
"Hello?"
I opened my mouth to reply, to tell him it was his daughter and hope he would have some sort of response other than slamming the phone down, but I found no words. As he repeated, "Hello?" I hung up, closing my eyes.
It took me a moment to realize I was shaking. He was hundreds of miles away, and I knew that. Hell, he'd just answered the phone in Montana. There was no way he could be any where else. Even so, I felt scared. It was painfully obvious, as I curled up on the couch and flipped through no less than a half dozen soap operas, that it would be a long time before I could overcome the fear that had become almost instinctive.
I sighed. Part of me still felt bad about harboring such emotions towards my father, because he had always meant so much to me. When I lost my respect for him, it became so difficult to keep any sort of relationship between us. I wanted to have him read the paper to me, telling me the local and world news. To joke with him, get up early and work on the ranch.
Going into Kevyn's room, I put three CDs in her stereo, choosing from the collection I'd gotten for Christmas. I spent a good hour just lying on the bed, trying to think of the good times with my father as I stared at the ceiling.
I made a sandwich for lunch, feeling a little bored. I assumed Patrick had stopped in for lunch earlier, but with my music playing I hadn't heard one way or the other. The thought crossed my mind that if I could catch Patrick home for lunch again, maybe we could discuss Kevyn, and I could make him see what he was doing.
As I went to make the bed, the phone rang, starling me. I waited for the answering machine, not feeling comfortable answering it myself.
The tape clicked on, and Kevyn's voice came over the line. "Baby, it's me." I made a mad dash into the living room and grabbed the receiver.
"Hello?" she asked, when she heard me pick up.
"Hey, is everything okay?" I leaned against the arm of the couch.
I could hear the sounds of other people milling around near her. "Its fine, Nikka, I'm just between classes right now. I have my Lit class and then a few hours at work. My boss said he wanted me to do a little more paperwork, but I should still be home around six. How are you doing? What have you been up to today?"
I shrugged. "Just drawing some," I replied, and then added, "I called and talked to Bastiaan today."
"Good! How's he doing?"
I related our conversation, and she seemed pleased to hear my father had cut back on the drinking, and said the next time my brother and I talked, to tell him hello from her.
"I've got to get to class, honey. You can answer the phone if someone calls, but you don't have to. I'll see you in a few hours, all right? We'll have dinner when I get home. I love you."
"Love you, too. Have a good day."
Someone on the other end called her name. "I'm coming! Okay, talk to you soon, Nikka."
Replacing the phone to its base, I went to finish making the bed. Then I decided to go ahead and do some laundry, so Kevyn wouldn't have to worry about that when she got home. I was sure that after a long day of school and work, the last things she wanted to do was work some more.
In between loads, I listened to the radio and thought about what to have for dinner. Maybe afterwards, if Kevyn didn't have too much homework, we could go to a movie.
Such was my motivation for the rest of the afternoon. I folded all the clothes once they were dry, and then looked through the drawers until I figured out where everything went, hanging up the items that I thought deserved to be hanging in the closet. At around four-thirty, I began actively searching the kitchen for something that would make a good dinner.
… And changed my thoughts of a movie after dinner, to a shopping trip. While there was food in the cupboards and the refrigerator, the options were limited, and I wasn't sure what to cook with the ingredients I had available.
I was just starting to get really worried that I wasn't going to be able to fix anything for dinner, when Kevyn came home early. It was only five o'clock.
She walked into the kitchen carrying a large pizza box, and set it on the table, taking a good look at the expression on my face.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I shrugged, welcoming her home with a kiss on the cheek.
All I got was a raised eyebrow.
I flushed, suddenly a little embarrassed. "I was going to cook dinner, but I couldn't find anything that would work. I didn't want you to have to fix anything when you got home."
She smiled gently, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss the edge of my jaw. "Thank you for the thought, sweetheart. I remembered on the way to work that we didn't have much left in the way of food, so I called from work and ordered a pizza, and picked it up on the way home. We'll go shopping tomorrow night, okay? I've got some studying to do for a test tomorrow, or we could go tonight."
I agreed, and we each took two slices of cheese pizza into the living room, where we sat on the couch and watched the five o'clock news. When we'd finished eating, I took the dishes into the kitchen so Kevyn could go right to studying, but as I was rinsing the plates, I felt two arms slip around my waist from behind.
There was a kiss between my shoulder blades.
I forgot about the plates, and turned the water off, listening to the sound of another kiss against my back.
"Thank you, baby," her warm breath seeped through my shirt.
I turned and settled my arms over her shoulders. "For what?"
Green eyes danced a reply before Kevyn said, "For doing laundry. For cleaning the room. You didn't have to do all that, Nikka. You know that, right?"
"I know," I assured her. "But I didn't want you to have to worry about all this stuff when you came home from school and work… I just wanted you to be able to relax."
She smiled, and kissed me. "I appreciate it, AJ. I really do." Squeezing me gently, she went off to study.
I chuckled to myself, glad I had been of some help, and finished with the dinner plates. Putting a few pieces in the microwave for Patrick, again, I put the rest of the pizza in the refrigerator and then wandered into the bedroom where Kevyn was studying. She was sitting on the bed, reclining against a few pillows near the headboard, and looked up for a moment to give me a quick wink, before bending her head to read some more.
I didn't want to distract her, but everything in me was yearning to drink in the warmth of her body. Putting on my headphones, and listening to some quiet music, I slipped into bed behind her, urging her to lean against me instead of the pillows. With a soft smile, she settled herself and her books once more, resting her head on my chest, turning pages and scribbling notes, as I tilted my head and wondered what she was writing. Knowing it to be a futile effort, however, I was content to lean my head back and close my eyes, letting the soft tunes of my classical CD lull in my ears.
I must have fallen asleep. Maybe all the cleaning had made me more tired than I realized. When I opened my eyes again, both mine and Kevyn's positions had changed. For one, she was no longer studying. Her books and papers sat in a pile on the nightstand, with her reading glasses on top of the stack. I hadn't noticed her with glasses when I'd first entered the bedroom, and made a mental note to ask her about that later.
Also, my headphones were resting on the dresser. She must have taken them off when she noticed I was sleeping. She hadn't changed into clothes for the night, and of course, neither had I.
Her head was still on my shoulder, though. The pillows had been rearranged in such a way that was much more conducive to sleeping, and Kevyn was using two under head, clutching another in one arm. That left one pillow for me, which was just fine, as I adjusted myself enough to wrap my arms around Kevyn, pulling her close.
I closed my eyes once more, not waking again until the following morning.
I heard the alarm go off this time, and chuckled to myself at Kevyn's protesting groan as she rolled out of bed to get dressed. I sat up, too, and she waved at me to go back to sleep.
"Mm, I'll make breakfast," I responded, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I made my way into the kitchen. Kevyn came after me ten minutes later, fully dressed although the many different directions her hair was going told me she wasn't totally ready. I grinned at the cute case of bed-head, to which she rolled her eyes and snagged a few pieces of toast.
"Morning," I smiled, cradling my cup of coffee, sitting beside her at the table.
The reply was grumbled, but I got the idea.
"Okay, okay," I chuckled, pouring another cup of coffee and offering it to her. This time I got a full smile, but she didn't take the mug. Instead, she got to her feet and put some hot water in a cup, adding a tea bag.
I blinked. "I didn't know you drank tea."
She shrugged, waiting for it to brew. "Only in the mornings, or if I'm sick. I rarely drink coffee. I don't like the taste, really."
I processed this, filing it away for future reference. I gave her a teasing smirk. "Look, I can get a complete sentence this morning."
"Hush." She gave me a sideways glare, and I chuckled. Soon, she joined me at the table again, and when I tried to tell her that I would make some oatmeal or pancakes or something, because she needed more for breakfast than just toast, she shook her head.
"Thank you, baby, but I've got to go. I'll try to call at lunch, okay?"
I nodded. "All right. Have a good day."
I spent a few hours in the morning playing with the dogs in the backyard. I threw a few tennis balls around, which they seemed to enjoy immensely, scrambling over each other to be the first to retrieve it. Although I had to check their collars to remind myself of their names, I'd say we got along rather well.
Patting one of the two Collies on the head, I left them, worn out but happy, and went back inside the house. Kevyn had explained that they cleaned the yard every other day, and checked the automatic feeders and waters once a week.
I decided to clean the yard myself, but couldn't find any of the tools I needed, and made a mental note to ask Kevyn when she called. Going into the bedroom to make the bed, I shook my head when I noticed a pile of clothes on the floor in front of the dresser. Kevyn must have dressed in a hurry again, not bothering to throw her clothes in the laundry basket before rushing through a shower. With a good-natured sigh, I picked them up and put them in the hamper.
Then, I pulled the sheets taut and tucked the covers back under the mattress, arranging the pillows on top.
After my shower, I had just sat down on the couch with my portfolio, when the phone rang. I reached over and answered it without hesitation, assuming it was Kevyn, as it was almost time for her to call.
"Hello?"
"Hey, muffin!" squealed the excited voice on the other end.
I laughed. "Cupcake, hey, I wasn't expecting you to call. How are you, Stacey?"
"I'm good. It's great to hear your voice again, AJ. How are things in sunny California?"
"Not so sunny," I chuckled. "We're pretty close to the coast, so there's a lot of fog in the morning, but by the afternoon it's okay? And the weather in the city is nice."
"Ooh, tell me all about San Francisco!"
I indulged my friend with all the details for more than ten minutes, before insisting she tell me everything that was going on in Montana.
"Oh, I will, I will. How are things with Kevyn?"
I narrowed my eyes at the dodge. Stacey only started talking like her mother when she was nervous about something. But, I answered, "We're doing okay. She's in school right now, and actually I'm expecting her to call soon."
"Then I'd better let you go, honey, don't want you to miss her call."
"Wait," I interjected, before she could hang up, "what are you not telling me?"
She laughed. "Oh, nothing, AJ."
"What's going on out there?" When she only sighed, I persisted, "Tell me, Stacey."
"I didn't want to upset you, doll… Tad said Buck and Henry were bragging to some of the guys about how they'd driven you and Kevyn away…"
"What exactly did they say?"
Resignedly, Kevyn gave me all the information she knew. I could imagine the scene as she spoke…
"Hey, guys," Buck called, he and Henry jogging up to the group of six or seven jocks - their only friends, was my guess.
They greeted the others, exchanging slaps on the back and high-fives. Tad approached from behind and stood close, just listening.
"Yo, James, did we tell you what we did to AJ?"
"Dude, were you picking on her again?" asked one, only to be silenced by the rest. It was Brian; we hadn't talked much since I'd left school, but it was nice that he was trying to stick up for me.
"You still protecting that girl? Didn't you know she turned into a fucking lez?" James turned back to Buck. "Tell us what happened."
Buck snickered excitedly. "You tell 'em, Henry."
"So, she was with that new girl, right? Well, I saw them when my folks went to church on Christmas Eve, and her dad was so disgusted, you could tell. But I heard he didn't totally know…" he grinned, "so I called her house a little while later, and told him that she tried to hit on my sister."
"He had a goddamn cow right there on the phone," added Buck, "and, like, her mom started asking him what he was saying, and who was on the phone, and he just hung up."
James shoved Henry's arm. "No shit? What'd her dad do?"
"I dunno," admitted Henry, smiling, "but I heard she left yesterday. Like, she got kicked out or something."
Brian shook his head. "And do you know what happened to Kevyn?"
"The other one? Shit, she left about a week after I called."
Laughs went up around the group. "That's two less freaks to worry about in town. I didn't think you'd really pull it off. Nice job," smirked James, congratulating the two…
"Tad was going to step in and say something, but he didn't figure it would do any good. If we would have known earlier, AJ, we would have…"
"I know, Stacey." I sighed. "But it really doesn't matter now. Kevyn and I are here, together. Tell Tad he can tell them that - that we may have left town, but we're still together, and happy."
Stacey agreed. "That's good, bunny rabbit. You two take care of yourselves, and each other."
I heard a beep. "I think that's Kevyn calling."
"Okay, I'll call again next week. Love you, cupcake."
"Love you too, sweetie," I said, and switched lines to talk to Kevyn.
"Hey, baby."
"What's wrong?"
I blinked. Not so much as three words, and she could already tell something wasn't right.
"It can wait, honey, I'll tell you later."
She chuckled softly, and I glanced up when I heard the front door open. "How about now?" she asked, standing in the doorway, cell phone pressed to her ear.
Hanging up, I walked over to her, a questioning expression on my face.
"What's this?"
Kevyn smiled, handing me the cell phone. "It's a cell phone, honey. You know, one of those nifty devices that let's me call from almost anywhere?"
"I know that," I said, rolling my eyes. "I mean, why do you have one?"
"I figure it'll be easier for you to get a hold of me if you need anything," was the reply, and I quickly memorized the phone number she recited. "Plus, I don't have to wait for the pay phone now."
I agreed it was a good idea, and walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch.
Kevyn was right behind me. She stood, setting the cell phone and bag from Radio Shack on the table, waiting.
I sighed, feeling her eyes on me. "What?"
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I could hear the true concern in her voice, the desire to know what was hurting me, in order to find some way to fix it. We'd agreed that open communication was the way it would be between us. How could I go against that?
Turning to face her, I told her what I'd learned from Stacey. I didn't understand how I could have the urge to kill someone one moment, and want to burst into tears the next. I mentally checked the date; no, I wasn't due to start my period for a week. Too early for mood swings from that, yet.
"I'm sorry they're such jackasses, Nikka," she said, putting her arms around my waist, holding me tightly. Giving up on thinking anymore about it just then, I leaned down and rested my forehead on a steady shoulder.
Kevyn ended up making a salad large enough for the both of us, and we shared that during a quick lunch. She had to leave to go back to class, and then spend a few hours at work; she said we'd go shopping when she got home.
Kevyn returned home at nearly six-thirty, a little later than I'd first expected, although she did call on her cell and ask me to fix something for dinner, when she realized she'd be late.
Finding a package of hot dogs in the refrigerator, I made two for Kevyn, trying hard not to think about all that was in them, and decided I would finish what was left of the salad. It wasn't much, but seeing as we were going shopping, I could always eat something else afterwards, when we had more options.
"Now, that's love," Kevyn smiled, as we sat down to eat dinner. At my look, she elaborated, "Cooking hot dogs for someone else when you don't eat meat."
I chuckled, breaking out into a grin when she reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
She wouldn't let me do dishes, even though I tried to argue with her.
"You go to school and work all day," I explained. "You shouldn't have to do even more when you come home."
A fair set of eyebrows made their way upwards. "And you don't do anything at all during the day, right?" I opened my mouth to reply, and then shut it again. "You don't do laundry, or pick up after me, or make the bed, or anything like that, do you? You just sit around all day and vegetate."
"I do some things. But not nearly as much as you do."
"You don't have to do any of those things, Nikka."
"I know, but I want to. I want to help out."
Kevyn sighed, and slipped her finger through the belt loop of my jeans, tugging me a little closer. "How about we strike a deal, okay? I'll make the bed and make sure to clean the room before I leave for school. If you want to do anything else in the day, you can. And we'll take turns with dinner and dishes. Sound good?"
I hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. I would still be able to take care of things so when Kevyn got home she didn't have too much to deal with, and I was sure I could work in a few surprises here and there.
"So, shopping?"
* * * * *
I admit we got some strange looks at the grocery store, but they were mostly my fault. There was something about picking out food that we would cook and eat, food to stock "our" cupboards in "our" house, that had me very happy. And, as such, I had a hard time curbing my terms of endearment for Kevyn.
"Honey, what's this?"
Kevyn was patient with me, and would only need to give me a quick look, and I'd try to concentrate more on watching my tongue. "That would be ginger, Nikka."
Ginger. Huh. I knew what that was, but I had only seen it in pieces, or known it to be in a recipe. I had never seen what it really looked like whole. It was strange. So many things looked very different than I'd originally thought.
Take pineapples, for instance. Did you know they grow on a small plant that looks similar to an Aloe Vera, and that it takes them a very long time to get as big as the ones that sell on produce shelves?
All in all, it was quite the learning experience… for both of us. I got to explain to Kevyn why certain brands of soy burgers were different, and how you had to be careful in choosing tofu dogs, because the wrong one, and… well, you wouldn't forget the taste for a long time afterwards.
We must have seemed like quite the pair, what with all of the items we bought. Potato chips and dried apple chips, 2% milk and a half-gallon of soy milk, my coffee and Kevyn's tea, some sort of cut of meat that Kevyn absolutely loved, and a few packages of soy burgers.
Once we'd arrived back at the house, I tried to take in as many bags as I could, so we wouldn't have to make more than one trip.
"Here, hand me that bag, honey, I can take one more."
Kevyn paused, standing near the backseat where she was unloading grocery bags, and looked over her shoulder at me. "Say what?"
I was confused. She hadn't understood? "That bag, right there. I'll bring it in."
She chuckled. "The 'beg'?"
Realizing she was making fun of my accent, I stubbornly refused to say "bag" again. "That one, right there, with the bread in it. Let me have it." Smiling, I got a kiss on the ear and a whispered "Love you" as she handed me the plastic bag.
The phone was ringing when she opened the door, and I went directly to the kitchen to set everything on the counter to be put away, as Kevyn answered the phone. I heard her say hello, and heard the door close to her room just as I walked back out to get the groceries she'd put down in her haste to answer the telephone.
She was talking in her room? I wondered who had called that Kevyn had felt the need to be somewhere private…
When I'd put everything away and there was still no sign of my girlfriend, I decided to see what was going on. With only a light knock that I doubted she'd be able to hear, I opened the bedroom door, just as the conversation was ending, apparently.
"Okay, it'll be great to see you, too…" She laughed, continuing, "Yeah, I love you, too. Good night."
"Who was that?" I demanded, my voice sounding foreign, even to me. My fists were clenched, and I wasn't sure if my stomach was quivering in anger or in fear that I would learn about Kevyn's plans to leave me.
Emerald eyes disappeared behind closed lids as Kevyn sighed. Setting the phone on her desk, she sat on the bed and urged me to do the same. When I almost refused, she gave me an exasperated near-tears look, and asked, "Please?"
I conceded, and sat beside her, not sure if I wanted to have this conversation.
"Annika, I want you to trust me. But I know that look in your eyes, the one you have right now; you're not sure. I can promise you up and down that the person on the other end of that line is of absolutely no threat to us, to our relationship, but you won't believe me unless I tell you exactly who it was." A sigh, filled with hurt. "That was your brother, Bastiaan, with Bobby on the extension. I called earlier today to invite them to come and visit. They said they'd talk it over, and were just calling me back to let me know.
"I also asked them to speak to your mother. She told them she would like to visit some time, too, and Bastiaan and Bobby said they could come up for a weekend. Right now it sounds like two weeks from now would be good for everyone. Tomorrow, I think we're going to discuss plane arrangements.
"I invited Stacey earlier, as well, but she said she had a few projects due for her college class, and she wouldn't be able to get away until at least next month."
I was having trouble processing all this.
"I wanted to surprise you with it, just before they came."
I blinked. "You said "I love you" to my brother?"
Kevyn rolled her eyes slightly. "Yes. He and Bobby were teasing me about "being one of the family", and told me, "Love you, sis", before they hung up."
I still couldn't quite get it. "You mean, my mom and my brother and Bobby are coming to visit?"
"Hopefully in a few weeks, yes."
I was quiet, and then gave her an exuberant hug as it hit me. The embrace was lightly returned. I pulled back, and swallowed hard, feeling like a complete and total ass. "I… I shouldn't have been so upset. I jumped to the conclusion that… I'm sorry, Kevyn. I just, you know, there're so many things here that I don't know…"
Kevyn sighed, and kissed my temple, still stung. "Annika, you don't have to worry about ghosts from my past jumping out at every corner, okay? I'll warn you ahead of time if I can, in any case. But I can promise you that one thing I will never do, is cheat. I've been on the receiving end of that before. It's not something I'm willing to put anyone else through, least of all, you."
I nodded, and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me. "You're right. I know you're right. I'm sorry. I'll try."
"Love, trust, and respect, baby."
"Love, trust, and respect," I echoed.
* * * * *
The next few days, we got into a routine. I would get up when Kevyn did, and make sure she had at least a quick breakfast before she left for school. The minimum was a cup of tea, which I made while she took a shower. She would clean the bedroom quickly before she went out the door. Then, I would take my shower and usually draw or watch TV until around lunch, when Kevyn would call between classes. We'd talk for a few minutes, and then she'd have to go. Patrick would stop home for lunch, and I would stay in the living room, out of his way. If I went into the kitchen, he just ignored me anyway.
Until one day, when I decided to change that. Every night, Kevyn came home and no matter how indifferent she pretended to be to his preference for hiding, I knew she was just masking the pain. I knew it hurt her to be silently turned away. I couldn't just sit there and watch her hurt, anymore. I had to do something about it.
Thursday, I walked into the kitchen with a purpose other than eating lunch.
"Patrick?"
The man sighed and glanced up at me, eyes unconcerned. He was wearing a causal business suit, although I guessed he may have had a meeting or an interview of some sort, because he had added a tie to the usual ensemble. He'd lost some weight, I noticed. He was still a portly man, but his stomach seemed to have slimmed down a little.
I wished I could attribute it to diet or to working out, but I knew the cause was the loss of his wife.
I wanted to do something before he lost his daughter, too.
"Yes, AJ?"
"You have to know that what you're doing is hurting Kevyn."
"I'm eating lunch, AJ. What are you talking about?" He went back to his meal, as if dismissing me.
I growled at his response. "You know what I mean! Ignoring her, never being around, not staying two seconds in the same room with her if you can help it. She misses you. Don't shut Kevyn out of your life just because you miss Diane."
He looked up again, anger now in the set of his mouth and the way he clenched his glass of soda. "Stay out of what you don't understand, AJ."
"I understand that you're losing your daughter and you don't care. Don't forget about Kevyn, Patrick. Diane wouldn't want you to be acting this way and you know it."
"Watch yourself," he warned, lowly.
"Just talk to Kevyn. Ask her how she's doing. Tell her you love her."
He snorted. "She knows I do. Now leave me alone."
I rolled my eyes, beyond exasperated. How could he seriously think that way? "If she knew that, don't you think she'd be happy? But you don't even notice her feelings, do you?"
Patrick got to his feet, glaring at me, eyes a deeper and harder green than Kevyn's. "Young lady, you have no right to talk to me like this. I won't allow you to interfere with my relationship with Kevyn."
I leaned closer and snarled, "What relationship?"
"Get out!" he bellowed. "Take your things and get out of here. You may have brought my daughter happiness at one time, AJ, but not anymore. You're just meddling where you don't belong. I don't care where you go, just go."
The words hurt, but I was too angry to feel them just then. "I know more about Kevyn's happiness than you've tried to learn in the past six weeks," I replied, storming into Kevyn's room, pulling my duffel bag out from under the bed.
I had thrown all my clothes in, and was just grabbing my portfolio when I heard the front door open and close, and assumed Patrick was leaving.
The voice I heard made me rethink that.
"Nikka?" Kevyn gasped, upon realizing what I was doing. "What's going on?"
"Your dad and I got into an argument. I'm leaving."
She came into the room. "I noticed his car in the drive. What do you mean, you're leaving? Did he kick you out?"
I was secretly glad that she knew I wouldn't just leave on my own.
I answered evenly, "Yes," and she turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen. I followed quickly, planning on trying to stop the argument I knew was about to start. I only talked with Patrick because I thought I could help him see how his distance was affecting Kevyn. Now I'd gone and filled that distance with even more anger.
I sighed. Some help.
"Dad! What do you think you're doing, telling AJ to leave?"
Patrick was throwing away his napkin and placing the knife from his sandwich in the kitchen sink, apparently getting ready to go back to work.
He didn't turn around. "I won't tolerate her telling me what to do about my own daughter, in my own house."
Kevyn slammed her hands down on the table. "As if you know so much better! Turn around, Dad. Look at me."
"I have to go," he said, but did not move.
"You have to face me. I know it hurts you to look at me, because you see mom, but I'm still alive. I'm still here, Dad, right here. Why can't I be a good reminder of mom?"
I heard the tears in her voice, and put my hand over hers, squeezing gently.
"I wear this locket all the time. It has a picture of you and mom on one side, before the cancer got bad. I look at it every day, seeing the two parents I lost on the same day." Patrick still hadn't moved, and Kevyn swallowed. "You can ignore me if you want, Dad. But don't make Annika leave. Don't take my one source of happiness in this world out of my life."
A minute passed in absolute silence.
Slowly, Patrick turned to face us. Kevyn gripped my hand when she saw the tears marking his cheeks, leaving small darkened stains on his shirt.
"That's what you think? You think I stay at work all night because I can't stand to look at you?"
Kevyn blinked, a little confused by the question, and then nodded.
"God, I'm such a fool." Patrick pulled out his chair from earlier and sank into it, the same fiery eyes from five minutes before showing nothing but an aching emptiness. "Kevyn, you're my daughter, and the most beautiful creature on this earth. It doesn't hurt that you remind me of Diane - yes, I miss her with all my heart, but I'm so thankful that I still have you. I've been staying away because I've felt like I failed you, and I thought you were angry at me - with every right."
The redhead frowned. "Angry with you? Failed me? Dad, what are you talking about?"
"I broke my promise to you. You don't remember? The first day we found out your mom was sick, you climbed into my lap and cried like you hadn't done since you were a little girl, and you asked me to promise that she'd be okay, that she would at least stay with us long enough to see you have kids, or get married, or graduate from college, or even until you turned twenty. I promised you I would. I promised that we'd find a way and she'd be with us at least until your next birthday. I couldn't even do that," he sighed, and Kevyn and I exchanged surprised glances. "All I could do was watch her slip away."
"Dad…" she moved around the table to stand beside him, "I never blamed you for mom's death. All I wanted was to be with you, but it didn't seem like you could stand being near me."
Patrick shook his head, reaching an arm out to encompass his daughter in a strong hug, Kevyn returned the embrace just as tightly. "I'm so sorry, Kevyn. I do love you, baby, I want you to know that. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Dad." Suddenly, her arm moved and the next thing I knew, she'd pulled me into the hold. I kept my arm around her, even after she and Patrick pulled away.
"AJ, I… I owe you an apology, too."
I shrugged, and Kevyn nudged me. "It's okay," I said.
"If you wouldn't have said something, I don't know how long I would have gone on thinking I was doing just what Kevyn wanted," he admitted, and I blushed a little at all the credit.
Kevyn chuckled, and kissed just beneath my ear, grasping my hand. "How about lunch, baby?"
Patrick stood, and kissed Kevyn on the forehead. "I really do have to get back to work. But I'll come right home after, and we can all have dinner, okay?" We agreed, and he closed the front door softly behind him as he left, Kevyn diving towards me a moment later, locking her arms around my neck.
I caught her easily and once I was sure I had my balance, gave her a small grin. "What was that for?"
Her reply was to place a firm kiss against my lips, to which my body instantly responded, and I pulled her closer against me. She pulled back after only a few seconds, and saw the disappointment on my face, laughing gently.
"Honey, I really do need to eat lunch before I go back to class and as much as I would love to have you…"
I grinned, and nuzzled her neck. "You could."
She took a step back, then a few more as I followed her. "Nikka..."
Her lower back hit the counter, stopping her movement, and I closed in, resting my hands on her hips. When I leaned towards her, I didn't touch her skin, I merely blew a soft whisper of warm breath against her neck, and smiled when she shivered. Lifting her up to sit on the counter, I wrapped my arms around her waist, standing between her legs.
She ran her fingers through my hair, and I closed my eyes as her nails scratched my scalp. She chuckled softly to herself, and guided me until my head rested on her chest.
"I love you, Annika."
I gave a happy sound of contented agreement, and felt the gentle laughter that followed. She was still stroking my hair with one hand, her other arm wrapped around my shoulders in a sort-of hug, and I felt quite secure. Had I known how, I have no doubt I would have been purring. Loudly.
"Sweetheart?"
Another sound from me, this time meant to be interpreted as, "Yes?"
Kevyn kissed the top of my head. "You can't fall asleep on me. I have to leave in about twenty minutes."
I frowned and clutched her closer.
She smiled, and gently reached around to move my hands, taking them in hers and bringing them to her lips. Kissing my fingertips one by one, she slid off the counter when she was finished.
"Come on," I sighed, "I'll make you lunch." Although I wanted very much for her to just stay in my arms for the rest of the day, I knew she had to get back to school, and didn't want her to leave without eating.
An eyebrow was raised in my direction, and I recognized the spark in her eyes. "Now, was that you'll make me lunch, or you'll make me lunch?" she asked, with a coy grin.
I quirked my own grin right back as I replied, "Yes," and turned to start fixing her a salad. She went back to class right afterwards, leaving me with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back as soon as she could get off work.
I grabbed my portfolio and sat cross-legged on the couch, drawing for about an hour, working on a picture of the couple with the baby that we'd seen in Castro. That got me thinking, and soon my pencil fell still, Patrick's words coming back to me.
He said I didn't know about Kevyn's happiness anymore. He's right. I don't even know if she wants kids, or not. What if I do, but she doesn't? I set my portfolio on the coffee table for a moment. How can I know about what makes her happy if I haven't even asked about anything long-term? I mean, I know her favorite foods and the kinds of movies she likes, but what does that mean?
Nothing. I need to know about the big things, I decided. I have to know how I can make her happy in the future.
"I want us to have a future together," I said, aloud. It was then that I began to think of things I wanted to know, I had to know… things to ask Kevyn, so I could make sure to keep her happy.
* * * * *
Kevyn actually came home after Patrick that night, quite a switch. She came up behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist, kissing my shoulder, before greeting her dad with a hello and a hug of his own.
Dinner took about two hours, and by the time we finished, everything was cold and I reheated it twice. Kevyn and Patrick spent most of the time just talking with each other, and I contributed when I was asked, but I wanted the evening to be for them to get reacquainted, as it were. Kevyn told him about school and work, catching him up on all the details, and he seemed genuinely interested, asking a lot of questions. He told her about work and a few new clients, telling her how most everything was going well, except the way he'd been feeling.
"I know, Dad. Me, too."
I smiled to myself, glad things were getting better. The tension level in the house was no longer a tangible being that lived and moved and breathed against us all. In fact, I had to look at Kevyn very closely to see she was still a little unsure, and I had a feeling it was due to the secret she was still keeping from her father.
But, that was her decision on whether to tell or not tell. I just hoped with the change for the better, maybe Kevyn wouldn't cut anymore. I mean, things were going well, right?
… Right?
* * * * *
I suppose that depends on your definition of "well".
The next day, Kevyn seemed a little preoccupied in the morning. She chose not to sit down and eat breakfast, but instead grab a bagel and run out the door, leaving a quick kiss on my cheek as she passed. I wondered if perhaps she had a test that she'd forgotten to mention.
She didn't come home for lunch. That wasn't unusual, I figured she just got busy, so didn't think very much of it. I missed her, of course. It had become a treat to get to spend some time with her in the middle of the day, but I knew I couldn't expect it all the time. She was busy with school and work, after all.
So, bored as I was, and without a girlfriend to keep me company, I cleaned. I cleaned a lot. I vacuumed, I dusted, I even mopped the kitchen and the bathroom tile. Then I scrubbed the bathtub and the sinks in the bathroom and the kitchen, and washed the kitchen counters.
I was finishing washing dishes, which I'd taken out of the dishwasher to do by hand, when Patrick came home.
He laughed. "What are you doing, AJ?"
"Cleaning," I said, giving him a small grin. "I got kind of bored."
The man shook his head, still chuckling. "You should go out and ride the bus or something. Just get out of the house some."
I paused. "I don't have any money for the bus, and I don't know the routes."
"You can borrow money if you need, but since you're going to be with us a while, we can see about finding you a job. And I'm sure Kevyn will help you learn the bus routes if you want. She rides them a lot for school."
I looked hopeful for a moment, and then sighed, drying off the plates before putting them in the cupboard. What kind of job could I get where I didn't have to read? That was the thing about living on the ranch - I'd have my dad to help me with any reading. And, by the time the ranch was solely in my control, I planned on having someone else with me to help. Maybe even my brother, if push came to shove.
But, in San Francisco… I didn't think I could find a ranch.
Patrick noticed my mood, and commented, "Kevyn told me you're an artist. Maybe you could let me take a look at some of your work?"
Slightly hesitant, I agreed, and as soon as I finished putting all the dishes away, I brought my portfolio in from the living room and set it on the kitchen table for him to see. He pored over each picture carefully, even the sketches that I hadn't finished yet, and the few beginning pieces I kept in there that weren't really very good at all.
Seeming to come to a conclusion, he nodded. "I think, if you'd like, I can take this to work and do some copying to show it to my co-workers, see what they think. But I think this is all excellent work, and you shouldn't have any problem getting work in illustration, or even just selling your drawings independently," he suggested, kindly.
"You really think I could?"
"Absolutely." He grinned. "And I should know. It's my job."
I thanked him, and a moment later, Kevyn came in the door.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, making a gesture of greeting to us both before heading to her room and closing the door.
I blinked, surprised by the behavior, but decided I would leave her be for a little while. She was entitled to her alone time.
When Patrick and I were finished with dinner and Kevyn had yet to join us, I put her plate in the microwave and reheated it for her, taking it with me as I knocked on her door.
"Baby?" I called, "I brought your dinner. It's spaghetti, and it's hot."
"I'll be out in a minute," she replied, "just leave it on the table."
Slowly, I opened the door. "Honey? You really should eat…" I paused in mid-sentence. Kevyn was sitting on her bed, writing furiously. I wondered if that meant it had been a hard day, and she was writing as an alternative to cutting. I decided not to disturb her, if that was the case. "I'll leave it on the table," I agreed, and gently shut the door behind me as I left.
Patrick was in the living room watching TV, having cleared the table for me, and gave me an inquiring look when I sat down beside him.
I shrugged. "Girl stuff," I said, with a hopefully convincing smile, and he nodded, chuckling to himself as he turned the channel to the local news. Letting out a slow breath, I concentrated on the information being broadcasted, learning about the non-injury car accident that had the freeway backed up as police investigated and cleared the scene, and about the woman who'd just had her eleventh child.
Kevyn didn't emerge for nearly forty-five minutes, and even then, she merely retrieved her plate and went right back to writing, I assumed, in her room. Twenty minutes after that, I told Patrick good night and got up to check on my girlfriend.
I opened the door, and stopped in my tracks. Crumpled balls of paper were strewn all over the room, dozens more on the bed, where Kevyn sat. She was situated in the center of the bed, legs crossed, still writing, until she heard me come in.
She looked up, deep emerald eyes, behind reading glasses that I'd learned she only had to wear if she was going to be reading or looking at a computer screen for long periods of time, filled with glimmering tears that refused to fall. "I'm trying," she whispered. "I'm trying, Annika, I promise I'm trying."
"Oh, honey…" I hurried to her side, brushed the papers off the bed and sat down, wrapping my arms around her. "I know you are. It's okay."
Still, she didn't cry, but she let me hold her and leaned against me, not releasing the notebook or pen she held in her hands. "I lost my job the other day; my boss decided he wanted somebody who could take on more hours. So I skipped classes yesterday and today to look for another one."
"I'm sorry, honey," I said, stroking her hair, still feeling her tension.
I started slowly, kissing along the edge of her jaw to her ear, nuzzling the area. When I felt her relax a little more, I moved to her shoulder, following her collarbone until I reached her throat. Gently taking the items from her hands, I tossed them to the floor and moved to have better access to her neck.
When I put my lips against her neck and left a small mark, I began to get a response from the redhead, and felt her arms go around my shoulders, encouraging me to follow her as she laid back. Removing all the paper balls that were in our way, I stretched out on top of her, and smiled softly.
If I had to name the look in her eyes just then, as I think about it now, I'd call it resigned. To what, I wasn't sure, neither did I know why. It only lasted a few moments, and then she arched her neck, and I obeyed the silent request quite willingly.
Sliding my hands under her shirt, I moved slowly and gently, not wanting to give her any reason to pull away from me. I let my fingertips move up her sides, trekking along the bottom seam of her bra, feeling her chest move as she took a sharp breath. Pulling her towards me, I began kissing her neck with more intensity, and reached a hand behind her back to unclasp her bra. She sat up a little and made it easier for me to remove both her shirt and bra, and then fell back to the pillows again.
I knew the gentle nip to her ear before I began moving my kisses down the newly exposed skin would grant me a quiet moan, and I wasn't disappointed. She interrupted me only briefly to pull at the bottom of my own shirt, taking it off in one swift movement, before allowing me to continue my way down her body.
I was working at the button of her jeans with one hand, the other massaging and occasionally teasing her breast in a manner which she liked very much, when I began to kiss her stomach. The scars didn't bother me; she'd shown them to me before, so it wasn't like they were a surprise. I kissed those, too, albeit a little more softly. I felt her muscles tighten, and figured she was still nervous about them.
Then I removed her jeans, and ran my hands down her legs. When I got to her feet, I was going to go in the opposite direction, only on the inside, moving with light touches that were meant to remind her of what to expect.
I never got that far. My hands caressed her thigh, and I stopped, looking at her.
She met my gaze for a moment, and then faltered.
The scabs were hard to miss, as delicate and fresh as they were. My right hand brushed three lines running from the top to the outside of her thigh, seeming bigger than the ones she'd shown me on her stomach. I looked to those again. They were already much healed.
These were new.
The words were out of my grasp. I sat back on my heels.
"You… your legs?" I asked, unable to get a good grip on what I was feeling.
She didn't quite look at me as she nodded.
"I don't understand… I thought writing…"
She shook her head.
"But, what happened? I thought you'd talk to me."
"It just didn't work, Nikka. I tried, I did. But…" She sighed.
"You could have told me about your job. I would have gone to look for another one with you, or made phone calls or something while you went to school," I insisted. "I could have helped. Then maybe…"
Her eyes met mine this time, completely. "The feeling, it was just… there. And I couldn't resist. I tried, but I just couldn't."
There was no excuse; that was the message I was getting. She wasn't making any attempt to grab at reasons for why she'd cut again, and I think maybe that upset me more than anything. I wanted there to be something to blame it on, I needed that option.
Because the only other alternative was…
I reached out and put my shirt back on, handing Kevyn hers and helping her get into her jeans again. Stretching out beside her, I deliberately rolled onto my side, giving her my back, as I tried to get my thoughts in order. I heard her sigh, and felt the pain in her heart loud and clear as she curled up and went to sleep, a good four inches between us the entire night.
When I woke up the next morning, the weight I was so accustomed to having sprawled over me wasn't there. In fact, she wasn't there at all. She left before I was awake, perhaps to get an early start on job-hunting, though I hoped she wouldn't forget about her class near noon.
I wondered if she'd had breakfast, and worried about that even as I ate my oatmeal.
"She probably thinks I'm really mad at her," I sighed into the bowl. Patrick had gone too, although I noticed he had taken a few of my pictures, and I assumed the piece of paper left on top of my portfolio was a note explaining exactly that, so it was just me again.
And I was upset. Not mad, anymore, at least not at her. Somehow, it must have come across to her that she really couldn't talk to me. I must not have made that really clear, that if there was anything she needed to talk about, even if it was how much of a pain I was and that she never wanted to see me again, and she'd already packed my bags and gotten me a plane ticket back to Montana… I wouldn't like it. But I'd listen.
"Why didn't she talk to me? Maybe we could have talked it out, or done something, before she cut."
I worked myself around and around that question for the next hour and a half, until I couldn't take it anymore. There had to be something I could do… but what?
Picking up the phone, I dialed information and said, "I think my friend might be suicidal."
The woman's tone immediately changed from professional and cool to warm and kind, and she spoke in a very gentle voice that reminded me of Diane. "All right, honey. Is your friend trying to commit suicide right now?"
"No," I said, "but she hurts herself and I'm afraid she might."
"Okay, honey. I'm going to give you the number for the National Suicide Hotline, but then I'll go ahead and direct you to them, okay? They can help you."
I nodded, and curled up on the couch. "Okay."
I was very glad the number was toll-free by the time I got off the phone.
The man who'd answered was very nice, and was willing to answer all of my questions. When I told him it was my girlfriend that had been cutting, and that I thought she could talk to me but I'd found out she cut again just the other day and how I was a little upset, he reminded me that I needed to be there for her and explained a little more about self-injury - apparently cutting wasn't the only tactic.
"Cutters aren't usually suicidal," he explained, "that isn't commonly a reason for self-injury. Sometimes being able to talk about what's going on in their life, in their minds, what they feel that's bothering them and making them want to cut again can be a hard step to take. Most cutters are very good at hiding, and are so used to it, it isn't easy to trust someone right away with all their deepest thoughts.
"Kevyn is going to need to know you're there, AJ," he said, softly. "You can tell her that it bothers you that she cut again, but she needs to know that you're still around, and that you still care, despite the setback.
"Cutting is an addiction, often just as powerful as any other, even cocaine. It takes just as much work to stay clean, and just like alcoholics need love and support from their families, so do people who self-injure. She doesn't need to feel like she's losing you, like she's turned you away."
I sniffled to myself at the realization that that's exactly what I had done. "How can I make sure she knows that she can talk to me? I've told her, but…"
Mike, as he'd told me his name was, suggested, "Just tell her again. Explain to her that you want her to be safe, and you don't want her to cut anymore. There are a few clinics out there that can offer help specifically geared for a self-injurer, and you can mention some of those if you like. I can bring up a list of numbers in your area if you'd like."
"Please." I asked him to repeat each number slowly and three different times, to make sure I had them down correctly, and he did so, without hesitation.
"It's good that you called, AJ. That shows how much you care, that you do want to help." I dried my tears with the back of my hand, glad I'd called, too. "I hope some of those numbers can help you even more."
I agreed. "Thanks. Um… can I call again?"
"Sure. Call anytime you need, AJ, the line is open twenty-four hours a day. Any one of us would be glad to answer any questions, and help however we can. You're not alone, and neither is Kevyn."
I thanked him again, and hung up.
Then I called the numbers I'd written down, taking two tries before I had it right, and spoke to a few people there. One was no longer in service; I made a star, so if I called the hotline back I could tell them. One that answered was strictly an inpatient sort of place, and I didn't think Kevyn would go for that, no matter what.
The last one was what I was looking for. They said they had a sixty-day program for self-injurers, and while that wasn't long enough to declare anyone 'cured', it usually provided a decent amount of time to get to some of the underlying problems and help clear them up. Part of it was inpatient, but only for a few hours, and could be adjusted to fit schedules if there was no other way.
I kept mental notes of the conversation, as well as the name of the woman I was speaking with, and thanked her for her help when I'd asked all the questions I could think of and had all the information I needed for the moment.
I had no plans to just spring the idea of treatment on Kevyn. I wasn't sure how she'd take it, and besides, I had to figure out how I was going to make up to her for the way I'd acted the night before.
* * * * *
I had everything set up by precisely five o'clock, which was when Patrick said Kevyn had mentioned being home. I'd called him and asked if he wouldn't mind giving Kevyn and I a night to ourselves. I apologized, because I knew it was so soon after they'd started repairing their relationship together, but he said he didn't mind. Then, he called Kevyn for me and asked when she thought she'd be home, and reported back to me that she had said around five.
Now I just had to wait nervously. I looked around the kitchen, making sure all the candles I'd found were still lit, and that all the place settings for dinner were perfect, making my way out to the living room to ensure the music was just right. Since I'd cleaned just the other day, I didn't have to worry about anything being dusty or dirty.
Going back into the kitchen to fidget, I began smoothing my clothes and finding pieces of lint that I'm sure weren't really there, and picking them off anyway.
I heard her key in the door, and sprinted towards the living room, meeting her just as she walked in.
She blinked, surprised to see me so suddenly.
"Nikka?"
I smiled a little. "Come on, I made dinner."
She heard the music, and couldn't stop a slight smile. Then she walked into the kitchen, and gasped. "Oh, Annika." I watched as she took in all the candles, the music, and all the dishes on the table. "It's beautiful. But… what's the occasion?"
Taking her hand, I led her to her chair and urged her to sit, coming to my knees in front of her, still holding onto her hand. I kissed her fingers, and kept them close to my lips as I spoke. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I acted last night. I shouldn't have turned away like I did. I'm here for you, honey, I swear to you I am. No matter what. Even if I didn't seem like it last night," I sighed, nuzzling her hand as she cupped my cheek. "I love you so much. It scares me when you cut, because I don't want to lose you. But I shouldn't have gotten angry with you; I was just surprised, I guess.
"You know, I thought when you told me that you'd try not to cut that would mean you'd do it. You're one of the strongest people I know, baby, once you put your mind to something I'm so used to it just happening." She smiled fondly at me for that. "But I understand it doesn't work like that. I want to work through this with you, Kevyn, I know we can. I promise you can come to me with anything, even if it's that you feel you need to cut again, and we'll see what we can do, okay? Wake me up at one in the morning and tell me something that's been bothering you for two weeks and I'll listen.
"I want to listen."
She drew me up beside her, and hugged me tightly. "Thank you, Nikka. But you didn't have to go through all this, just to tell me that."
I kissed her shoulder, wrapping my arms around her. "I wanted to," I said. "I love you, Kevyn."
I felt her almost melt into me, and knew I'd been forgiven. "I love you, too, sweetheart. Thank you for this." She paused, and then asked, "I'm not complaining, trust me, Nikka, but how did you come to such an understanding today?"
I sighed. I wasn't sure she'd be happy with me, but I decided I had to tell her anyway. "I called information and they connected me to a suicide hotline, and they answered all my questions. We talked for almost an hour. I just didn't know what to do, baby, but I wanted to find out more so I could understand. Please, don't be mad," I finished, softly.
"Sweetheart, I think that's quite possibly the nicest thing you could've done. Why would I be mad at you for wanting to understand more what I'm going through?" She kissed my shoulder, and I rested my cheek against the soft red hair.
"I… There's more."
She settled her arms around my shoulders. "What is it?"
I took a deep breath, and said, "They gave me some numbers for treatment centers, and I called them and talked to a lady about one not too far from here. I still have the number, and I remember everything she said, and I thought, maybe… if you wanted… I mean…"
"We'll see, baby. Right now, I don't think it's that bad. But you tell me if you think it does get to that point, and I'll try to discuss it with you, okay?" She kissed my cheek, and nudged me off her lap. "Let's eat some of this absolutely wonderful-smelling dinner, shall we?"
We ate dinner in a rather comfortable silence, broken only occasionally by Kevyn telling me how delicious everything was, and me thanking her.
As we were clearing the table, she insisted on helping, it was obvious to me that she was still a little uncertain about something. The other day, I thought it may have been about the cutting, but we'd discussed that quite a bit. Maybe it was about the treatment center I'd brought up…
"Kevyn?"
"Hm?" she asked, as she took the salt and pepper shakers from the table and returned them to their proper places on the counter.
"Is everything okay?"
She nodded. "Sure, honey."
I looked at her, evenly. "Really?"
She chuckled softly, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss the underside of my chin. "You worry too much, Nikka. Honestly, I'm okay."
"All right." I accepted that she wouldn't lie to me outright, and slid my arms around her waist to pull her close against me. She mimicked the gesture, and we stood there in a mutual embrace for nearly three minutes, simply looking into each other's eyes. I can honestly say it was the most informative three minutes of my life.
I leaned forward just enough so that my forehead touched hers. Keeping my right hand securely on her waist, I raised my left hand to cup her cheek, feeling her breath against my lips as she sighed softly.
"What's wrong?" It came out as a low whisper.
She closed her eyes. "Nothing."
"No." That was fiercer than I intended, so I softened my tone. "Don't push me away, Kevyn, please. I know something's bothering you. Let me help?"
Kevyn moved my hand so she could rest her head on my shoulder, answering, "It's really nothing, Nikka. I'm just being silly."
I gave a sound which said I didn't believe that.
"I saw Tamara the other day, she was at the coffee shop when I went to turn in my application," she said finally, in the middle of a sigh.
Not quite sure how to reply to her statement, I opted to gently rub her back, until I knew whether the extremely irrational jealousy that had suddenly arisen in me was warranted.
"I'm not sure if she recognized me. But I walked out before I could give the manager my application. I just knew there'd be no way I could handle it if I worked there, and she came in."
I nodded my understanding. "But she didn't say anything? She didn't bother you?"
She shook her head. "I told you it was silly. It just brought back some old memories."
"… Do you miss her?" I couldn't help but wonder. What if the memories she was thinking of were about how good they'd been together, or how much fun they had? Sure, it ended badly, but that didn't mean that while they were dating their relationship wasn't better than what Kevyn and I were sharing.
Kevyn frowned slightly as she pulled back, surprised green eyes looking at me, hard. "Miss her? Nikka, of course I don't miss her! Seeing her brought back some old bad memories," she clarified, and I must have physically relaxed, because she looked at me strangely for a moment.
"You were worried that I was going to tell you I wanted to get back together with her, weren't you?"
"Something like that," I admitted, shifting a little.
"Baby…" She sounded almost… hurt? Uh-oh. "I love you. The last person you have to worry about coming between us is Tamara. Actually, you don't have to worry about anyone. You're the only one I want in my arms, Annika, and in your arms is the only place I want to be." I felt her gently tug on a strand of my hair before tucking it behind my left ear. "All right?"
I nodded, feeling a little bad that I had doubted her.
Then, my own doubts came back to me, and I led her to the bedroom. "Honey, I… I have something else I have to talk to you about. Can we change clothes, and then talk in bed?" She agreed, emerald gaze a little wary, and we both changed quickly. I wasn't used to feeling so nervous around her; it had been a while since that particular emotion had made itself known.
Effectively changed into her pajamas, which consisted of, that night, one of my T-shirts matched with blue pants with small yellow ducks on them, she sat down beside me on the edge of the bed. Deciding that I was still feeling a little queasy from nerves, I chose to lie down instead, and took her hand in mine before beginning to speak.
"Are you happy, Kevyn? I mean, here, with me?"
She turned to her side, leaning on an elbow. "Nikka, I told you…"
"No, this isn't about Tamara. I've been thinking about this for a while. Honestly. Are you happy, being with me?"
I watched as her mind shifted into the serious-gear that was required for the conversation I'd started. "Yes. You are the best thing in my life."
"Would you want to get married one day?"
Her eyebrow quirked. "Was that a proposal?"
I blushed a little. "No, I just mean, would you want to, if we could?"
Taking pity on my expression, she didn't tease anymore, and replied, "Yes, honey. I can only hope that when we're both ready, the rest of society will be, too, and we'll truly be able to get married."
"Do you want to have kids? Or adopt, maybe?"
"Honey, is there something you want to tell me?" Before I could answer, she continued, "Where is all this coming from, Annika?"
"I know… I know what you said about this being the only place you want to be, but for how long?"
There was that strange look again, the one I couldn't quite decipher. "Sweetheart, I can't predict the future. But I can tell you that I have no plans of going anywhere any time soon; at least, not without you."
"I love you, Kevyn. I want to be able to make you happy for as long as I live."
Her gaze softened to one that would have melted the hardest of hearts in an instant, and she moved to place an oh-so-soft kiss on my lips. "I love you too, Nikka. And I feel the same way, but let's not forget to keep watching the road for whatever comes next, okay?"
I agreed, but pressed the question. "Kids?"
She curled up close. "I would like to have one or two someday, yeah."
"What about adoption?"
"Nikka, baby, shhh," she urged, quietly, stroking my hair. "We've got time yet, we don't have to discuss everything tonight. I promise."
Ten minutes passed. Her ministrations slowed gradually, and I assumed she was falling asleep. I was far from slumber, however, having many more thoughts still coursing through my mind.
"Go to sleep, honey." Kevyn's voice startled me, and she chuckled softly as I jumped. Her lips pressed against my shoulder a few times. "Sleep. Nothing is taking me away from you in the foreseeable future, if I have anything to say about it. Now get some rest. We can talk more another night," she stated.
In lieu of a response, I scooted down and buried my head in her shoulder, her arms going around me tightly as I knew they would. She kissed the top of my head, and held me close until I fell asleep.
… just as I knew she would.
Deciding that she was happy holding me in her arms, and I was safe and warm in her hold, I forced myself to relax. For the time being, nothing was going to drive us apart. And that was enough.
* * * * *
My dream that night was short, and obviously stemmed from my feelings of the previous few days. In my dream, I came home to find Kevyn relaxing on the couch after a hard day of work, greeting her with a quick kiss before going to change into something more comfortable, or I would be cooking dinner when she came home. In both scenes, we were living together, some years into the future. I didn't notice any kids or any rings on the dream-us, but the happiness was clear. We had settled into the domestic life together with ease.
I slept well. It's amazing how reassuring it can be to see yourself taking out the trash of your own house, walking it down the driveway to your own garbage can on the curb, knowing that within that house - your house - sits the one thing that means everything.
And, what's more, that she loves you, too.
* * * * *
The dawning of the next day found us tangled; tangled in the bed sheets, and entangled together. It was a good thing that we woke up at the same time. There was no way either one of us could have extricated ourselves from the pretzel we'd become overnight without waking the other.
Before I was fully back to consciousness, Kevyn kissed my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips. The kiss deepened quickly and was followed by several others, and I couldn't have asked for a better twenty minute wake-up routine.
I smiled at her when we pulled back. It was a Sunday. No classes to worry about, and if she wanted to search for a job, I supposed we could, but was looking forward to spending some time together with nothing to worry about. At least for one day. A time where we could just enjoy being together.
"Get dressed, sweetheart. I have plans for today."
My hopes fell. She was going to be busy. Obviously, she wanted me to go with her, and that was fine. I'd do anything as long as it was with her. But, still. That meant there probably wouldn't be any "us" time.
When I didn't get up right away, she tilted her head. "What's that look for?"
"What do you have to do today?"
She blinked, and seemed to understand both what I was asking and why I was looking so dejected. "Honey, I don't have anything to do today, as far as work or school is concerned. I have plans for things that I'd like us to do."
My mood brightened instantly, and I leapt off the bed to hurry through a shower and change clothes. Kevyn was showered and dressed before I was, and waited patiently in the living room. Walking out of the bedroom when I was ready to go, seeing Kevyn there on the sofa sent an image from my dream back into the front of my mind.
The two of us, acting like a couple. Living together. Doing things for each other, sharing the chores and responsibility. Being domestic, and doing it well.
Wishing with all my might for that to come true, I kissed the top of her head to alert her to my presence.
"We're taking BART again today," she said, as we made our way out the door. Patrick bid us a good day and Kevyn explained to him where we were going and how long we'd be gone, so he wouldn't worry. Her new cell number was written on a notepad near the phone.
"We can sit forward, right?"
Her soft laughter flowed over any embarrassment I might have felt. "Of course, baby. We can sit wherever you want. Do you mind a walk, first?"
I grinned. It was a beautiful day. The fog from earlier in the morning had already burned off, leaving a few clouds in the sky and a bright sun, the heat lessened by a breeze from the ocean. "Not at all," I replied. "Walking sounds good."
We strolled through the neighborhood and into the city, finding a small restaurant that Kevyn called a "hole-in-the-wall Mom-and-Pop" type of place. Somehow, I think the meaning was lost on me, but the food was delicious and the environment was cozy. Kevyn ordered an omelet that was as big as her entire plate, while I chose toast, fruit, and potatoes, although I will admit I stole a few bites of Kevyn's omelet. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and asked for another plate, giving me a fond half-grin as we shared the meal.
Forty minutes later, both sufficiently stuffed, we continued our walk into the city, definitely needing to work off some of that food. The redhead beside me had insisted on paying for our breakfast, perhaps it was more of a brunch, and this time, I didn't put up much of a fight. I remembered that whatever we were doing that day was Kevyn's idea. If the occasion arose where I needed to help pay for something, I could - Patrick had slipped a few dollars into my hand just before we left, mentioning it was an advance - but knew that if our positions were reversed, I wouldn't want Kevyn to pay for anything.
We took a trolley to make our trek a little easier, and ended up back at Union Square. Had we not just eaten breakfast, I would have guessed we would be going to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch.
Leading the way, Kevyn brought us into a large store which boasted the Disney symbol everywhere.
Slightly confused as to what she wanted us to do there, I asked, "Kevyn?"
She smiled, and gently urged me forward. "Look around, baby. This is the Disney store. I figured if your mother and brother are going to be visiting, and Stacey can't make it, at least we can send something back to her. You said she likes stuffed animals, right? Let's pick something out."
I didn't care at all whether it was appropriate or not, or whether I would make a scene. I picked her up in my arms and hugged her to me, even spinning her around once before setting her gently on the ground again.
"Thank you."
"You're very welcome. Now, let's have a look around."
We decided that a medium-sized stuffed Dumbo would be a good gift. Or, rather, I decided, and Kevyn agreed. Stacey was especially fond of elephant stuffed animals, I knew. Taking note of the stuffed animals that Kevyn seemed interested in, I made up my mind to come back another day and make a purchase myself.
"Now what?" I asked, enjoying Kevyn's plans already.
"We walk," she chuckled.
We made our way down a few more blocks, passing several people, many of them greeting us with a small smile. I thought about what Kevyn had told me once, that people in San Francisco didn't seem that nice. Maybe that was true where she went to school, or in other parts of the city. So far, with all the places we'd been, I didn't notice anything.
Switching the large Disney bag to my left hand, I reached for Kevyn's hand, threading my fingers through hers.
She was quick to pull her hand away, not even breaking stride, and I blinked.
"We can't do that here, baby. I'm sorry. Downtown still isn't safe. Castro is usually all right, but we just have to be careful," she explained, and I kicked myself. Just because we were in San Francisco didn't mean it was any better than Montana, and I had to remind myself of that.
"But it didn't seem like anyone…"
"I know, but they're there, Nikka. Even if we weren't walking together, there'd still be plenty of people who would assume just because of my haircut."
My eyes widened. "What's wrong with your haircut?"
She smiled gently. "Nothing. I happen to like it. But a lot of people will associate short hair on a girl as meaning that girl is a lesbian."
I thought about that for a moment. "But not every girl who has short hair is a lesbian, and I don't have short hair…"
"It's all about stereotypes, honey. And even if we were just friends, there's a good chance they'd see you as a lesbian anyway, because you're walking with me."
"But then, if they already assume, why can't we hold hands?"
We turned the corner onto another street before she answered. "It's just easier and sometimes safer to let them wonder than to put it right out there in their faces," she sighed. "Nikka, you remember how much of a pain Buck and Henry were?" I nodded. "They're nothing. There are people, here and in the rest of the world, that will forget about bare hands and reach for their weapons if they feel like it, because of us.
"Those are called hate-crimes, like Matthew Shepard, when someone is hurt or killed just because they live a different lifestyle."
She told me the story of Matthew Shepard as we continued on our way, although we arrived at our destination long before our conversation was finished, and found a bench so we could sit and finish the topic. I finally realized what she'd meant - she told me that just because San Francisco was seen as the "Gay and Lesbian Capital" of the world, that didn't mean everyone was happy about it.
"Pride parades are awesome, and I go every year, at least to watch. But there are always a few protestors standing across the street." She stood, indicating that we should continue on our way. "They're usually peaceful. But you just never know. I'm sorry it has to be like this, Nikka, I wish we didn't have to hide."
I shook my head. "I understand. Until we don't have to hide anymore, I'll remember." I tried to lighten the mood a little, and offered to carry the bag, bumping her shoulder with mine. "Where are we going now?"
"Right in here."
"What's 'here'?"
"The MOMA," was all she said, as if that should have meant everything. After about twenty seconds to adjust to what I was seeing, I still didn't know exactly what it was, but it was incredible. The outside of the building itself was intimidating enough to make me stop in the middle of the sidewalk and gawk. A huge building with hundreds of windows and a large cylinder coming from the roof that looked to be made of glass in the center. From where we were standing, what I realized later was actually a skyscraper positioned behind it looked to be connected, like some sort of medieval tower.
A few thoughts I'd had about buildings not having the ability to be beautiful flew from my mind. It was amazing. If you've never been to the Museum of Modern Art, I highly recommend it. It's busy on the weekend, but worth the wait in line. Even the view from outside is worth it.
I ran my hand along the building, feeling the texture, and paused.
"Wood?"
Kevyn chuckled. "Yes, it's wood."
"But, it looks like bricks."
"Bricks don't work well in California," she said, adding, "They're not very earthquake-sound."
"Oh." Earthquakes? Now there was a part of California I wasn't looking forward to experiencing.
We walked inside, and I found myself dumbfounded, again. The architectural wonders of this place were never-ending!
"Hey, Nikka," Kevyn whispered, and I tore my eyes away from the large columns and interesting designs behind the front desk, glancing at her.
"Look up."
Tilting my head back, I gasped. There was a metal walkway up there! It must have been made of glass, because I could see right through it to the glass above, only the metal support beams getting in the way. It was like a bridge you could see through. I had to try it
So that was the first thing we did. Kevyn was explaining to me that the stairs, which were on our left from the desk, would let us step onto any floor we wanted. She had a brochure with all the current exhibits, but I was only half paying attention. All I knew was that I wanted to walk across that bridge.
It was quite possibly the scariest feeling I'd had so far. It almost beat out flying through the sky in a pressurized metal tube. Almost.
It wasn't glass, as I'd first thought, but appeared to be a strong metal grate. Pieces of thick steel with small squares of space accounted for the illusion from the main floor. Walking several stories above the ground, and seeing that ground below you is a rather nerve-wracking experience. But it was like I couldn't get enough. I crossed it three more times before extracting a promise from Kevyn that we could walk over it at least one more time, and continuing on to see the rest of the museum. You know, the museum part. With art and stuff.
We spent three hours walking around, just looking at the different exhibitions and all the paintings and sculptures. The second floor was my favorite, I think, since that held the photography and works that were done on paper. I went from being greatly interested in architecture to knowing without a doubt that I wanted to try photography. Or maybe it was oil painting I liked best.
I couldn't decide. Everything was incredible. We tagged along with a tour that one of the museum staff was giving, and learned some specifics about a few of the works, before we trailed off on our own again.
Kevyn read me the titles of all the ones that stopped me in my tracks, and laughed at my expression the entire time.
"Wow," I breathed, and Kevyn agreed.
"Ansel Adams."
I came to the conclusion that I liked his black-and-white photography very much. Don't get me wrong, the works he's done in color are also wonderful. There was just something about seeing the contrast of black and white…
It was beautiful. One in particular caught my attention, and I spent at least five minutes sitting on a bench, staring at one which Kevyn said was titled "Mount McKinley, Lake Wonder".
"Look at how the light falls on the mountain," I said, "and the perfect stillness of the lake. That's awesome."
Kevyn smiled, and gently rubbed my shoulder. "You like that one, hm?" I nodded. "Then, come on, we'll get it."
My jaw dropped. "We are not buying one of these!" I hissed, getting to my feet, mindful to keep my voice low so as not to disturb the other visitors around us. "They've got to be insanely expensive."
"No, Nikka," she laughed, "they have a store in the museum. We can get a reproduction in a poster."
I blushed a little at my exclamation. "Oh. Okay."
It took another forty-five minutes to get me out of the store, near the main entry. Everything seemed to be calling to me, but finally, Kevyn tugged me by the arm and led me outside. I put the rolled poster into the large Disney bag and looked around, breathing the air that seemed to be even crisper than earlier in the day.
"I want to show you something else."
Following Kevyn across the street, I was once again overwhelmed with the beauty of man-made structures. We were in the Yerba Buena Garden, Kevyn said, which was a huge expanse of gardens and had a waterfall in memory of Martin Luther King, Jr. There was artwork all over San Francisco, I decided - even the Garden had pieces of art scattered around, like the Ship Sculpture.
Between the metal framework were glass panes, and I could see vegetation within the sculpture. "Hey, there are plants growing in here!"
Kevyn just chuckled. She already knew that, of course. But I felt the need to point everything out to her, nonetheless. Such as the large arrow on a nearby building that pointed up and declared "Sky" in big white letters. I thought that was quite amusing.
"Wow," was the only word I had an hour later, after we'd explored some of the gardens. We sat on one of the numerous benches, side-by-side, just absorbing the atmosphere. I was extremely excited by all that I'd seen, and by the whole day in general. I could feel that Kevyn was happy and relaxed in return, and kissed the top of her head quickly.
She smiled, green eyes brighter than I'd seen in a long time, and I decided the day together had been just as beneficial for her.
"Ready for one more view? Then we can go home and have dinner," came the offer, and I readily agreed.
"Sure."
We walked a few blocks to a MUNI station, waited a few minutes for the next #28 bus, and then stepped off again about ten minutes after that.
I couldn't speak. With the exception of the woman by my side, it was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.
The Golden Gate Bridge. The bus had dropped us off at the south side of the bridge, and all I could do was stare. Seemed I was doing that a lot.
"We'll just walk a little ways and then turn back, okay? I just thought we could watch the sunset." Her voice was soft, and I could tell she was a little unsure as to whether or not my silence was a good sign. "Then I'll cook some dinner."
I smiled, and started walking, Kevyn falling into step beside me. "This… I don't even know. This is outstanding."
Kevyn smiled. "I'm glad you think so."
I was glad for Kevyn's hand in the small of my back, as I often looked up to see the cables above us, and relied on her to guide me in the right direction. We continued for about fifteen minutes, following the path, and then stopped to look over at the ocean. With all the cars driving by, I couldn't hear the tide hitting the shore, but I could see the waves and the sun as the last of its rays reflected off the water. Knowing that the drivers probably couldn't care less about two girls on the side of the bridge, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close, sharing in the setting of the sun as I let my mind wander.
My mother and brother would be coming to visit in a few weeks. I couldn't wait to see them, and I missed them both like crazy. At the same time, I wouldn't go back if they asked me to. Not for good, anyway. Everything that I needed and wanted was right within arms reach.
That's not to say that life in San Francisco was perfect. But it was getting better. Kevyn and her father were able to enjoy each other's company again, and Kevyn and I were learning more about each other every day. Patrick was going to help me get a job, and maybe Kevyn was right, I could actually go somewhere with my art.
There, standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, watching the ocean, I realized that I was very lucky.
"You know," I said, jumping as a car horn sounded, "I miss the peace and quiet of the country sometimes." Kevyn raised an eyebrow and I chuckled softly. "But I could get used to the city."
With all its beauty, I didn't think it would be long before I came to love it, crazy drivers and all.
But for now, Kevyn was beside me. I began walking back towards the south end of the bridge, to the station that would start us on our travel back home. More of a home than I'd felt in a long time. "Home", where Kevyn would cook dinner, and we would sleep soundly in each other's arms, keeping the rest of the world at bay until morning.
And that was enough.