Dad throws a sharp glance at her. Conversation continues in the other room, and it sounds more normal now, like a party instead of the aftermath of an argument. Laughter rings out. I’m glad we didn’t ruin everyone else’s time.
“I was engaged before I met your dad,” she begins.
Shock washes over me. I’ve never even gotten a whiff of this history before—obviously, everyone’s parents have a past, but I should have heard about a broken engagement, right? That seems like a big deal. Still, I listen without interrupting, though I’m sure the surprise shows on my face.
“I thought we loved each other. We had a little star-crossed thing going on ourselves. My dad was the only pharmacist in town, and the guy I was dating, Frank, didn’t have much, but he charmed me. He wasn’t making a lot of money when we met. Had one of those jobs at the auto parts factory, though, a union job, and it’s the kind of place where you can work your way up. I was going to get a degree in business. I already had an idea for my baking gig.”
I scoot forward in my chair. My dad watches my mom as she talks about this, but he’s clearly heard this story before, and it’s something they decided jointly not to tell me.
“He stole from me,” Mom says. She sighs. “At first it was just little stuff, cash and jewelry, but he got bolder and more brazen over time. It ended up being thousands of dollars, in the end, and I was too blinded by him to even realize it. Long story short, I ended things with him. Your father and I always wanted to protect you from people who might try to take from you. I also wanted you to be the best you could be. I didn’t know you would turn into a—well, a bully.” She swallows. “That was a shock.”
I sit back. I have so many things to say I’m not even sure where to start. “First off,” I say, “I’m sorry that happened, but anyone could have stolen from you. He sounds like he just wasn’t a good person.” I hold up a second finger. “Like I said before, I’ll own that I made my bad decisions, but you have yet to truly take responsibility for your part in it. For being, frankly, assholes.”
Dad runs his fingers through his thinning hair. His slight frown reminds me of my own for a moment, a familiarity that somehow alarms and soothes me at the same time.
“Okay,” he says. “We made mistakes. I was unfair to her, and ugly, and I know that. We’ve talked about it, and we are sorry for it.” He inhales. “But that girl, Kenzie. You don’t really know what she’s after. Her family really struggles, you know.”
I rub my fingers along the bridge of my nose. My anger rises again like a bubbling cauldron.
“Her name is Kendall now,” I say. “And that woman is the love of my life. She’s better than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s worked tirelessly to get where she is, to get into med school. She shouldn’t have had to work that hard, not in a just world, but she didn’t have any social support, so she did what she had to do. And I would marry her today if I could. She broke my heart, and part of it had to do with you, do you know that? She can’t stand the way she feels around the two of you. The things you said the night you met her were the catalyst for her ending things. Your view of her, and other women who have to do what they can to survive, is disgusting. You made the woman I adore feel cheap and shallow.”
My mom sucks in a breath. “Grant,” she breathes.
Someone’s put coffee on in the other room, its rich scent traveling to us, and the conversation there has quieted again. I can imagine what their guests are thinking, but I can’t see past this moment. This reckoning with everything.
“You aren’t listening to me. You never do, not about this, andnot about what I want to do with my life, either.” I let out a shuddering breath. “It’s in part your fault I’m hurting so badly right now. So, forgive me if I’m having trouble with your lukewarm half apologies.”
My mom wipes the corner of her eye with one of her fancy napkins. “You love her?”
“She’s everything,” I say. My voice cracks. “And if this is how you could treat someone I feel that way about, then I’m not sure what kind of relationship I can have with you. If any. And I’m serious about that.”
Silence descends on the table. It’s like I’ve dropped a bomb into the middle of our conversation.
Dad is the first to speak. “Your mother and I want you to be in our lives, Son.” He peeks at my mom, whose face is ashen. “And I hate we hurt someone who means that much to you. It sounds like we have some more reflection to do.”
“Yes. You do.” I stand from the table. “And I’m going to go. I’ll let you get back to the party.”
I walk into the hallway again and wind over to where my grandmother sits on the living room couch. Her veined hand clutches a cup of coffee. I reach over to give her a hug, and she sits her cup down to grasp at me.
“Screw ’em,” she says in my ear, and I almost gasp. I’ve never heard her say anything like that in my life. “I hope you get her back.”
I smile. It’s the most positive thing anyone has said to me about this whole situation, and I find myself nodding along, as though I might really be able to convince Kendall to give me an actual chance.
It’s absurd, though, this thread of hope that winds around my skin and binds itself to me. We were never going to be anything other than temporary. I’ll have to take my sad story and sit with it, to be taken out occasionally and examined like a wound, then covered again so it can heal in the dark.
I stop at a driving range on the way out of town. I have a long drive back to Louisville, but my clubs are with me, and it’s unusually warm for November, almost seventy degrees today. I need a distraction in the form of hitting a little ball a couple hundred yards.
I pay for a bucket and make my way to a little patch in between the houses and some other golfers. The range here is kind of shit, with patchy grass and a setup better suited to a cow pasture, but it works. I hit a few balls, channeling my aggression into each swing. I twist my torso and the metal hits the ball with a satisfying thwack. Soon my muscles burn and sweat dots my hairline. The cool breeze follows, and I savor the sensation.
I look around. There are a few other people here. A couple at the end catches my eye. A man stands over his golf club, and a short dark-haired woman stands behind him, gripping his hips like she’s steadying him. He swings and then wobbles a little. They double over laughing when she almost loses her balance too. Honestly, they’re adorable. My heart issues a painful kick.
The man turns, and I catch his profile. And dammit—this is the problem with being at home. You can’t go anywhere without seeing someone you know. Kendall’s brother faces my direction and catches me staring at him.
I lift my hand in a wave, and he returns the gesture. He holds my gaze for a moment.
Now I have to walk over there, I think. Even though this man hates me. But he knows I’ve been in touch with his sister lately, and she told me she’d talked to him. I feel like I should clear the air or something.
His shoulders tense when he sees me walking in his direction. It’s like a slow-motion murder, what’s happening. We can both see the awfulness but can’t do anything to stop it.
