She tilts her head, her shiny dark hair swinging. She’s not really showing yet, but she lays a hand on her abdomen anyway. “Kinda yucky, actually. Some heartburn, and I didn’t even know that could start yet.”
“Well for your sake, I hope it stops soon.”
“I’ll be glad when he or she is here. But I’m not enjoying the process, that’s for sure.”
“I can’t wait to meet them.” My cheeks ache from smiling. “I’m going to love this little baby. You have no idea.”
“I saw you talk to a little girl at the game,” Blaine says. “Iwas wondering what kind of stuff you were telling her. Looked like you were talking about me.”
I laugh. “It’s funny you mention that. She asked why you use a wheelchair when you can walk.”
“Yeah? And what did you say?” He takes a bite of his pizza.
“I told her to mind her own fucking business.” At his laugh, I continue. “Nah. I explained it to her, and I think she understood. I’m going to be such an awesome aunt, really. I’m going to teach your kid all kinds of shit.”
“Well that’s not worrisome at all.” Blaine leans back and loops one arm over his chair. He’s smiling. “Supervised visits only for you.”
We eat for a little longer. We’re nearly alone in the tiny restaurant, though the scent of wood-fired pizza from to-go orders wafts through the place. Something scratches at my brain, and I’m terrible at biting my tongue, even though I should in this case. I blurt it out anyway.
“I know you aren’t telling Dad,” I say. “Do you want me to keep it secret, too? I’m supposed to see him again in a couple weeks.”
The silence that follows presses on me like a brick. What is wrong with me? My conversation skills are a masterclass in sticking one’s foot in one’s mouth. Blaine speaks before I can say anything else.
“You can tell him if you want to,” Blaine says quietly. “He’ll probably see us around town here and there anyway, so he’s going to find out. But I don’t want him in my life. This isn’t an invitation from me.”
Blaine is right—I see my dad when I want to, in small doses and controlled environments. He and Blaine live in the same area, fully three hours away from me, and I don’t have to deal with accidentally happening upon him at the grocery store.
Our dad has settled back in Blacksburg, where he works as a mechanic, after moving around some when we wereyounger. We even heard he was working as a logger out in Oregon at one point. He always promised to send money, though it didn’t happen often. It seemed at the time he would do anything to avoid taking responsibility for us. When he started coming back around, trying to make amends, I challenged him on that. He cried and told me he was sorry, that there was no excuse.
For Blaine, forgiveness might never happen. The damage cuts too deep. And I have no right to ask that of him, not when his mental health is better without the man.
“I know. I’m sorry I said that.” I sigh. “You shouldn’t have to spend time with someone who hurt us. I’ve been doing too much of that lately.”
Blaine leans back in his chair. His eyes are intent on me, though his arm loops around Gloria and his wedding ring makes atick tick ticksound against the wood of her chair when he taps his finger. “What does that mean?”
I wince. “I’ve become sort of friends with Grant Wyndham, actually. He’s changed a lot.”
If the silence before was heavy, this one is oppressive, like an elephant sitting on my chest. I keep digging myself a deeper hole.
Gloria stops eating. “The guy who bullied you?”
“Yes,” I say. “But he’s a completely different person now.”
“I know that look.” Blaine’s face has paled. “Are you, like, involved with him or something?”
“Um . . .”
“Kendall. What the fuck?” His face takes on a reddish cast. He looks like he wants to yell at me.
“He’s changed, I swear.” My voice is small. I’ve never sounded like this before, and I’m not used to defending my actions. Usually I just barrel ahead, consequences be damned.
“I should hope he’s changed,” Blaine says, “because he was a fucking monster to you. Didn’t he steal your clothes in gymclass once? That day you had to come home in the cold without long pants on?”
“I know. I fucking know, Blaine. He was terrible.” I give him a pained smile. “I mean, he did give me my clothes back after that. And now he’s trying to make all that up to me.”
“I’ll bet he is.” He sneers. “Is this about trying to fix him yourself? Like you’re doing with Dad?”
“That is not what I’m doing here.” For the third or fourth time in the last month I find myself tearing up, and I have no idea what’s happening to me. “You think I’ve got some kind of daddy issue or something? That’s not what this is. People have been disappointing me my whole life, and I choose to think they can do better.” I blink a few times. “And he gave Mom money.”
