Kenzie dropped her head a little. Her shoulders slumped. “She died when I was eight.”
“Oh, god, I’m sorry.” In hindsight, it was a stupid question to ask. With my mom the dominant figure in my family, it just seemed natural to assume the mother was in the picture.
“It was a long time ago.”
An uncomfortable silence commenced. I was more than familiar with this awkward quiet. It happened a lot to me when people learned who my brother was. What was it about tragedy that stole people’s voices? I refused to put that burden on Kenzie.
“How’d she die? Or is that too personal?”
Kenzie opened her eyes and studied my face a moment. She seemed surprised that I asked. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.
“Never mind. I’m being too pushy. Sorry.”
She placed her icy cold hand on mine for a split second and then stole it back.
“You’re not. It’s just a sad story that I rarely talk about. It still hurts my heart, even after all these years.”
“I get it. Believe me, I do.”
Kenzie’s eyes squinted as she took me in with a concerned expression. “You do?”
I nodded.
An understanding passed between us. Her face softened.
“After I was born, my mom and my dad tried for years to have another baby. They did everything they could to make it happen, but she would get pregnant and then miscarry. I can’t even tell you how many times. It was pretty rough on all of us. After repeated failed IVF treatments, she finally she got pregnant with triplets.”
“Triplets? Crap. That sucks.”
“That was actually the good part of the story, Kyle,” she laughed, slapping me on the leg.
“Oh.” Triplets sounded pretty damn awful to me. How would you even feed three babies with two hands… and two nipples?
“And the amazing part was that she didn’t lose them. We were all so excited when she went into labor. She had managed to carry them for seven months, which was miraculous, considering my mom was having all kinds of complications with the pregnancy. She delivered three tiny but relatively healthy babies, two boys and a girl. She’d had preeclampsia throughout the pregnancy, though. She had it with me too but the complications weren’t as severe. During the C-section with the triplets, her condition turned into eclampsia and she started seizing and then went into cardiac arrest. The doctors tried everything to save her, but she died about forty minutes later without ever getting to hold the babies she wanted so badly.”
Kenzie shook her head then looked away. Neither of us said anything. I knew she needed a moment. Sometimes memories just required time to filter through without interruption.
“So,” she said, gripping her thighs with her hands. “That’s my deal.”
“Damn,” I said, shaking my head. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” I could see in her expression that she was fighting back tears. I felt bad for asking. Now she was upset and it was my fault. I slipped my arm over her shoulder and squeezed. Kenzie’s eyes traveled up to meet mine. There was hurt and sadness in them, but there was something else too… it was almost like she wanted me to kiss her. I broke our contact and glanced over at the camera recording us. What was happening here? Was Kenzie falling for me? At that very moment, we weren’t playing a game. Shit just got real, and I wasn’t sure where my head was. I had feelings for her, but not in the way she might have for me… at least I didn’t think I did. With the moment gone, Kenzie scooted out of my embrace. We sat there quietly looking out over the ocean.
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
“It’s been sixteen years. I still miss her so much.”
“She sounds like a great mom.”
Kenzie smiled sadly. “She was.”
“So what did you end up doing with the babies?”
“What do you mean, what did we do with the babies?” she asked, looking amused. “We raised them, of course… me and my dad. I basically became a mom at eight years old. I could change three diapers in five minutes flat.”
“Nice,” I nodded, although I had no idea if that was impressive or not since I’d never changed a diaper in my life.
“I’ve spent sixteen years taking care of my siblings, and I love them to death, but I want this money so I can make them secure. Then I can go out and live my own life… finally.”
Interestingly enough, Kenzie and I had followed a similar path in that we both had taken on a certain amount of responsibility for our siblings. Her commitment was obviously more extensive than mine, but we both felt that pull. The difference was, I’d never desired to go it alone. Maybe I needed to rethink my game plan.
