One Moment at a Time

by K. S. Thomas

  “You ever think about going to see your dad? Seeing if home is with him?” I wouldn’t ever want it to be, wouldn’t want to give up the one thing that keeps her coming back to me. But I know home is at the core of what she’s searching for. Ultimately, it’s why she always leaves just as much as it’s the thing that always brings her back.

  “Tried that,” she says hazily, eyes still closed. “He has a nice house. And a nice family. And a nice life.” The corner of her mouth quirks sadly. “But it’s no home.”

  “You ever go back?”

  She grins, but it’s an odd sort of grin. There’s almost something morbid about it. “At least once a year.”

  Aberdeen cost me close to a thousand dollars that night. And the expenses only increased when I brought him home and realized a cat needed things. Like food. And a bed. And toys. And given his unexpected old age, medications. Still, three years he spent with me. Three years I would have paid a thousand dollars for every night after, if it had given me another one with him.

  I never told Ky the impact that night had on me. Didn’t want her to revel in the satisfaction of it. Truth is, I kind of figured she knew all along how things would turn out. Kind of like she’s been doing with me this whole trip.

  I glance at the letter still in my hands. The clue. Aberdeen. I get it now. The next place I’m meant to go. It’s her father’s.

  The home she goes back to every year... that’s no home at all.

  I spend the rest of the night reading, laughing my way through five more titles and finding three more letters in the process. In the end, none of them are more compelling than the one I found inside the pages of Hägar the Horrible.

  chapter

  sixteen

  BEN

  It takes me three days to board another plane and head back to the states. Every time I try to leave, one of the Laurents gives me another reason to stay. Honestly, it’s never hard to convince me. Until day three.

  On day three I wake up knowing it’s time. My heart is full of all the Laurents have to offer and yearning for Ky in a way I can no longer ignore or silence.

  And so, come ten thirty-five that morning, I’m sitting in my seat beside the window, waiting for takeoff. Again.

  This time my travel companions are a French couple around my age. It takes me half the flight to realize they’re both fluent in English. And I only realize this when I catch the guy next to me reading along with me while I go through Ky’s letters for the fiftieth time or so since receiving them.

  “You’re on a romantic quest,” he says quietly. Then, when we exchange an awkward glance regarding his obvious reading of my letters he adds, “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. The flight has been tediously boring, and your letters were so much better than the book I brought.”

  “Also, he’s inappropriately nosey,” his partner says, without even looking over from his tablet and the movie he’s been watching. “Can’t help himself.”

  “And aren’t you lucky I can’t?” he teases his partner before he turns back toward me. “Only reason we met is because I was going through my new neighbor’s mail.”

  The other man leans forward to meet me eye to eye from where he’s sitting in the aisle seat. “I was his new neighbor.”

  “Exactly.” The guy next to me chuckles, clearly delighted with himself and the outcome of his previous snooping efforts. “I’m Louis, by the way.” Then he points over his shoulder at his partner who’s back to watching his movie. “And this is Paul, my fiancé.”

  “Nice to meet you both. I’m-“

  “Ben. Yes, I know.” Louis winks, as if to acknowledge his act of mischief regarding my letters. “And your love is Ky. I take it she’s sent you on a treasure hunt of sorts?”

  “I guess you could call it that,” I mumble, undecided on how much I’m willing to divulge to a man I only just met and who already knows more about me than I chose to share with him intentionally. “I’m hoping eventually the letters will lead me to her.”

  “But that’s not the real treasure you’re meant to find,” he says, brow furrowed as if he’s worried I don’t understand the true meaning of my own fucking quest.

  “No,” I sigh, surrendering to the fact Louis is now officially part of this journey. “Ky means for me to find myself on the way to finding her.”

  “So, you’re both lost?” he asks, casually busying himself with opening a box of Junior Mints he tugged from the outside pocket of his bag a moment earlier.

  “I guess you could say that. In a sense, I’ve been lost to myself. And she’s been lost to me because of it.”

  “And do you feel like you’re close to completing this journey?” he asks curiously, holding the open box of chocolate candies out in my direction.

  I accept and he shakes several pieces out of the box and into my palm. I pop one into my mouth before I finally answer. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Hard to know when you’ve found yourself if you didn’t know you were missing in the first place.”

  Louis laughs. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between who we are and who we show up as,” he admits. “I know a little something about that myself.” He casts a subtle glance at Paul and winks. It gets the message across alright. Compared to Louis who’s probably never spent time inside a closet he couldn’t find his way out of unless he got distracted by too many outfit choices, Paul’s more conservative appearance and overall vibe, give every indication he wasn’t that unlike me before Louis came along. Comfortably uncomfortable walking through life on the expected path, willingly wearing blinders to the world beyond it. “Sometimes it takes falling in love with someone who falls in love with the real you, to be brave enough to see who that truly is.”

  “And apparently, sometimes it takes falling in love with that person and losing them, to really hammer the point home.” I make a face. I’m an idiot. At the very least, a particularly slow learner.

  How many times did she come back for me? How often did she lay out the fucking bread crumbs, trying to bait me into following my own heart. And still, I never saw reason to. Never wanted it bad enough. Because I always thought she’d settle for the guy she fell for, the version of me I already was. Only that wasn’t who she fell for at all. She fell for the guy hiding behind all the bullshit. The guy only she ever took the time to truly see.

  “I spent most of my life being told I was just like my Uncle Dave, and that being like Uncle Dave, my father’s brother, was the last thing anyone wanted to be.” I don’t even know why I’m telling them this, except maybe I’m finally ready to put it into words and let it go for good. “I always just accepted that Uncle Dave was this loser who wasted all his potential and opportunity because that’s my father told me. And every time I strayed from the path my father wanted me on, becoming Uncle Dave was the threat he held over me.

  “So, I stayed on track. Did what was expected. Never questioned who I was or wanted to be and only focused on what I didn’t want to end up as. A disappointment to my father.”

  I look down at my own hands. The scar that runs down the center of my left palm. Been there since I was six and Uncle Dave took me camping. The one and only time I was allowed to spend time with him, and it was the greatest weekend of my childhood. Even when it ended in stitches because I fell while climbing the rocks in the creek and split my hand open on the jagged stones.

  “My Uncle Dave’s brilliant. He’s this insanely smart, environmental scientist who apparently could be making a gazillion dollars working for the right companies, but who chose activism over money. Damn hippie, my dad calls him.” I shake my head, laughing bitterly. “Even when I didn’t understand why being compared to him was bad, I knew it was. It haunted me. And the most fucked up part of all, is that I should have been proud to be compared to him. I had this amazing role model right under my nose and instead of seeing that, and thriving in my strengths, the things that made me different, the ones I share with him, I let my father snuff them out.”

  My eyes move fo
r the window. “Ky always said I liked things easy. That I settled for good enough. And she was right. I did because nothing I was working toward was anything I wanted. And I never even noticed until I faced the fact that what I really wanted...was gone.”

  “Not gone,” Louis says, pointing at the letter I’m still holding in my left hand, the one not used for Junior Mints. “Waiting.”

  I smile sadly. “I certainly hope so.” I hold the letter out for him to get another look. “Truth is, I have no idea if she’s even thought about me in recent years. None of these letters are dated and nearly everyone I’ve talked to since she sent me on this little adventure, hasn’t even heard from her in years. For all I know, she gave up on me a long time ago.”

  Louis studies me for a moment, but it’s Paul who pipes up this time. “You didn’t.”

  It’s true. I didn’t. Even when I wasn’t actively pursuing her, part of me always held onto her. No matter what, I just couldn’t let her go. Even when I thought I was happy with Alexandra. The parts of my heart she wanted, she couldn’t have. Because they always belonged to Ky.

  I lock eyes with Paul and nod, smiling slightly to try and convey my appreciation for his insight while still holding it together. “Thank you, I needed to be reminded of that.”

  There’s a knowing in his eyes, and it’s all the exchange we need to have for me to understand that he gets it. Gets me.

  Sometimes, even when we know what we want, it still takes us a while to figure out we’re the only reason we don’t have it.

  “So, what’s Aberdeen?” Louis breaks the silence and I can’t help but wonder if the entire conversation between us started because he couldn’t figure out this one detail on his own.

  “Aberdeen is a cat,” I explain, fully aware that I’ve explained nothing at all with my answer.

  “Her cat? A cat you gave her? A cat you got together?” he tries to guess repeatedly.

  “A feral cat she found in a bar parking lot in the middle of the night and insisted was mine,” I tell him dryly. “Turns out she was right. He was.”

  Louis eyes shift sideways toward Paul. “Is he teasing me now?” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m completely serious,” I answer for him. “But how I got the cat wasn’t really the clue she was leaving. She was talking about going home.”

  Instantly, Louis’s interest is piqued again. “And home is?”

  “A place she’s still looking for,” I tell him, my gaze moving for the window automatically, as if there’s a chance I’m passing by her home right now. “But the one place she continues to go back to, just to make sure it isn’t home, is her father’s house.” I turn back toward both men (Paul has abandoned his movie for good it seems). “That’s where I’m headed. His place in Kentucky.”

  I didn’t even have to look up the address. Memorized it from seeing it so much.

  2448 Falling Branch Rd,

  Cold Springs, KY 41075

  Permanently branded in my memory, thanks to Ky and the envelope she forever had sticking out of the side pocket of her big-ass hobo bag, visible for the world to see wherever she went.

  “You ever worry about losing that?” I ask, tugging at the frayed envelope practically hanging from the worn pocket of her bag as we make our way through the parking lot and inside to work.

  “Kind of hoping I do,” she says with a shrug, pulling the strap higher onto her shoulder and giving the bag a good shake as she does. Envelope doesn’t budge, much to my surprise, though clearly not hers. “Been trying to lose this thing for years now. Won’t leave me.”

  “Why don’t you just throw it out?” That’s certainly what I would do with something I didn’t want to keep. Seems like a pretty logical course of action. Of course, logic is rarely a component of anything Ky does.

  “I can’t throw it out,” she says, looking aghast. “It’s a birthday card!”

  “Okay.” I’m not seeing the issue with tossing it yet, but I know her. She’ll enlighten me.

  Ky stops short of reaching the door and turns back. It’s pretty clear I’m about to get a speech, so I slow to a standstill just before I reach her.

  “My father sends me a birthday card every year,” she starts. “Every year, he gets my birthday wrong. Always off by a month and two days. I don’t know why, not like I was born prematurely. But for some reason the man thinks my birthday is June seventeenth, instead of May fifteenth.” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I guess it’s cool he remembers I was born at all.”

  “Your dad’s a jackass.” Even I can remember Ky’s birthday, and I don’t even get her anything. No gift. No card. But I’m still not such an asshole that I can’t remember the fucking date.

  “Oh, my dad absolutely is a jackass,” she agrees, “which is how I know this card didn’t come from him.” She points at the envelope still hanging on for dear life. “Because it showed up on my actual birthday. The year I turned seven.”

  “I’m not following.” A totally normal occurrence between us.

  “This card was sent by his secretary. The one and only year he had one because his wife, my stepmother, who usually handles those duties for him, was on unofficial maternity leave.”

  “So, it’s special because you liked his secretary?” I’m sure that’s not the reason. I’m just hoping if I say something dumb enough, she’ll cut to the chase, simplify the story and make my head stop hurting.

  “It’s not special. It’s significant. And it’s significant because it reminds me that he’s not my father in any sense that a father should be. Because he can’t remember my birthday. And because the one and only year I got a card on the right day was also the year my sister was born. A daughter whose birthday I’m certain he remembers every year.”

  This story just makes me hate the man more the longer it goes on. And based on what I already knew, I kind of already hated him. “Can I just burn the card for you? Will that work? Because the more I hear about it, the less I’m okay with you hanging onto it.”

  She laughs quietly, shaking her head. “I’ll lose it when it’s time. When I’m ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Ready to accept that he’ll never be the dad I want him to be.” She shrugs. “In the meantime, it helps remind me that he hasn’t been up until now.”

  “But part of you still hopes that will change.”

  “It’s foolish, I know.”

  “No.” I clasp her wrist and tug her toward me until she’s close enough to hug. “It’s natural. You seeing the best in your father even when he hasn’t shown it, is totally normal. What’s not, is him not seeing the best in you, especially when it’s always on the display and the rest of the world can see it clear as day.”

  I kiss the top of her head and I’m not sure which surprises me more, the ease with which I make the gesture, or the fact she lets me.

  “Hard for him to see anything in me when it took him five years to see I existed in the first place,” she mumbles, pulling out of my embrace and starting for the door again. “If he hadn’t been court ordered to take me, he’d probably still be in denial over the whole thing.” She turns back over her shoulder and makes a face at me. “Guess my mom dying and leaving me with no other family to speak of kind of screwed that up for him.”

  It makes me uncomfortable when she does this, tries to make light of tragic things like her mother’s death or the way she was pretty much dropped on her grandmother’s doorstep after her father ditched her a second time. Apparently even a court order doesn’t always stick.

  “You know you don’t have to do that with me, right?” I tell her quietly, holding the door open for her. “Pretend you’re all tough and don’t give a shit. Everyone gives a shit about their parents. Especially when they die. Or leave us. No one is so tough that they’re not hurt by that. Not even you.”

  “I could be that tough,” she quips, stopping halfway through the door.

  “Ky,” I sigh. It’s not even ten in the morning and
she’s already exhausted me.

  “But you’re right,” she admits softly. “I’m not.” She leans forward to kiss my cheek and smiles. “Thanks for calling me out.” Then she turns, and marches in, ready to start her shift, as if nothing ever happened.

  PAUL, LOUIS AND I PART ways after we land and I hurry to catch my connecting flight from Dallas, Texas to Cincinnati, Kentucky. The plane is considerably smaller, and I wind up on the aisle as well as the window with my single seat row. I don’t mind. After chatting most of the last flight with Louis, and the time difference, the day is catching up to me. A little nap would do me well.

  Not that we’re in the air long. I feel like I’ve barely closed my eyes when I notice the decent begin and shortly after, the landing gear is touching ground again.

  It takes a while to get my luggage, which I seem to keep acquiring more of the longer this journey goes on (I’m not even sure how. I haven’t shopped anywhere I’ve been. But I wound up with a backpack full of stuff Tank and Lacey deemed necessary for my future – including a handwritten cook book with all of Tank’s favorite recipes and a blanket Lace said was always Ky’s favorite when she lived with them. Leaving the Laurents wasn’t much different. I acquired an old leather suitcase complete with family photo albums and extra socks Marguerite said were always needed), and I decide to grab some dinner from the small food court before I make my way to get a rental car.

  The meal choices are limited, and after being fed by Marguerite and Tank for the past week, frankly, disappointing, but I decide on some moo goo gai pan from the little Asian bistro and find a quiet spot near the windows facing the airplanes to eat.

  Then, before I find more ways to stall for time, I call my brother.

  “Guess where I just landed,” I announce as soon as he answers the phone.

  “Australia?” It’s not a bad guess. If I’m honest, I’m a little surprised this journey didn’t land me in the outback yet.