Kingsley

by Jenny Wood

  After that guy, I had a lady come in and wanted a cartoon kitten. It was small and fairly simple; it took me half an hour. I hadn’t had a chance to check my phone and I was itching to do just that. Thankfully, after her, I was calling it a night. I needed to get home and feed the hamster that I’d gotten Kady, shower and then I was picking her up for a sleepover. She was usually allowed to sleep over for a night, every couple weeks; sleepovers were new, Merissa needed to be sure that she could trust three twenty-something year old men with her daughter. It helped that she’d known us all of our lives, but still… that didn’t matter when it came to her baby. It helped that Kady wanted to be with us anytime she could and Merissa lived to make her daughter happy. As did we. So, sleepover.

  “Did you pick out a movie, Shorty?” Jody asked as he came into the living room in his pajama’s. Kady ran to put hers on but was yelling down the hallway as she was coming back. It was well into the evening and we’d already had dinner, ice cream and Kady had her shower.

  “Lion King!” She yells just before jumping onto the couch like a crazy person.

  “Who wants popcorn?” I ask, already popping a bag in the microwave.

  “Me!” Kady yells. “ME! Jody yells louder. I swear around Kady; Jody is a completely different person. Coming from a very broken home, Jody doesn’t get close to anyone. The day he met Kady with Kayson and me, I saw him war with something troubling on his face before he hid it. We knew where he’d come from, what he’d been through, but something about looking at Kady, hit him where it counted. He loved her as much as we did and he treated her like the little sister she was to us. Jody was another big brother to her, too. It was just another way our big ol’ dysfunctional family worked and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Princess bowl for the nugget and a Papa Bear bowl for Jody-locks.” I laughed when Kady giggled and Jody knocked me in the gut with a backwards fist. It didn’t hurt but it knocked the wind out of me in surprise. We all settled in to watch the Lion King with our popcorn and apple juice, and before we’d gotten into anything traumatic, Kady was fast asleep. She was covered up to her chin with her princess fleece that she kept here for overnight visits; we were slowly fixing up her room and some days she liked princesses, sometimes she liked baseball; sometimes she wanted a pink room, sometimes she wanted black. It was a work in progress.

  I’d been texting Morgan off and on all day; he’d texted me back a couple times when I was busy tattooing and then when I finally answered him back, it’d taken him a few hours to answer me back. I decided, if I didn’t hear from him in the next hour; I’d just call. I wanted to call before it got too late. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to… Kayson called because his world had gone to shit.

  “King! Conner called and said his apartment was on fire!” He tells me and I jump up out of the recliner and run to the doorway. Jody follows me as I listen to Kayson lose his mind over the phone. I repeatedly tell him to stay with me and that I’d be there as soon as I could. Jody agreed to stay with Kady and I was in my truck and hauling ass to Conner’s apartments in seconds. Kayson is a wreck when I found him; murmuring things I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to say about Conner and how much he cared about him. I knew he had, he had from the minute he passed out in his arms after getting clocked in the face by a scared, angry, teenager outside of his bookstore a while back. Kayson had been his knight in shining armor, ever since. My brother would not ever be the same if something happened to Conner. When they’d taken Conner away in the ambulance, everyone yelling and barking orders around an unconscious, Conner. Kayson had completely fallen apart. I’d never seen my big brother lose his cool like that; he broke right in front of me. I prayed with everything that I had, that Conner would be okay.

  Sitting in the waiting room, early morning hours, waiting on Kayson, who’d finally gotten to go back and see Conner. I shot a text to Layla, who’d gone to sit with Kady so Jody could be here with Kayson and me, and then checked the three unread messages I’d had from Morgan.

  Morgan: How’s the Lion King? Does it make you cry? He taunted me. I’d told him earlier that I was sitting in the middle of the single movie that ruined my childhood, because what eight-year-old wants to admit they cried at all, much less at a cartoon.

  Morgan: I was just kidding… I cry every time. Poor Mufasa. He said a little while later. I hadn’t even heard my phone chime with that one. I’d completely missed it and the last one.

  Morgan: I’m here if you need someone to talk to. ; ) He taunted again, the little shit. Through text, he was a lot more outspoken and apparently, a lot more sarcastic. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about him. I wondered if this was how it would be if I was in Kayson’s situation. I know that Morgan is sick; that much is obvious… but I hadn’t really asked for details. I wasn’t even sure how to spell the type of tumor he had or really remember what it was called. Instead, while I waited; I googled brain tumors.

  Primary brain tumors are tumors that arise in the brain and tend to stay in the brain. About 40% of primary brain tumors are gliomas. About 10% of those gliomas are Oligodendroglioma. Mixed gliomas, primarily Oligoastrocytoma, account for about 5–10% of all gliomas. Biologic markers now help pathologists separate Oligodendroglioma from other types of gliomas…. I read a little bit before clicking another link….

  The exact cause of these tumors, as well as other types of brain tumors, is unknown. We do know that tumors develop when a normal cell, for some unknown reason, becomes abnormal…. Well that wasn’t comforting. I read about radiation and reoccurrence; the how-to’s and the statistics. It was all scary as fuck; I couldn’t fathom how Morgan was doing this all on his own. I would have been scared out of my mind. I would have been like, Kayson. Is that what I’ll be like if something happens to Morgan? I mean, I’m not in a relationship with him or anything, like Kayson is with Conner; but what the fuck? I can’t imagine something more terrible happening to him. I wonder when his surgery is going to be.

  Clicking link after link and the minutes roll by, I can’t stop reading about this stupid fucking disease. Cancer; how is their not a cure for it yet? Finally, I get to a link with a prognosis…. Life expectancy is anywhere from between one month to five years, if not treated, the side effects could kill you much sooner. Stroke, blood clots or even passing out and busting your head open. The possibilities were all there in black and white and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to go to Morgan right now and just fucking, hug him or something. He was alone, literally, that dick hole of a boyfriend left him to deal with this thing, all alone. I mean, technically, Morgan kicked him out, but who could blame him? What an incredibly selfish asshole. It made me sick that I’d ever even touched him. If I saw him again, he better hope that I don’t…

  “King.” My brothers voice came at me, snapping me from my musing. I jump up and meet him halfway.

  “He’s okay. He’s really okay.” My brother says, relieved. It’s written all over his face.

  “I told you he would be, man. I knew he would be.” I say as I grab him and pull him into my arms. Even though Kayson is my older brother, he’s shorter than my 6’5, but only by a few inches.

  “I would’ve lost my shit, if you hadn’t been here, King. I would’ve lost my shit.” Kayson says. I almost tell him that he did lose his shit… a couple times, in fact. I don’t, though; the only thing I can think about is if he’ll have to do it for me.

  “You’ll do it for me.” I said, hugging him closer; not realizing that I’d even said it out loud.

  “What?” Kayson backs up and looks at me, concerned.

  “I said, you’d do it for me.” I tried to smile as I slapped him on the shoulder and changed the subject.

  “Was he awake?” I asked and watched him come alive.

  “No, no he’s not awake yet, but they have him resting for now because he’s got some moderately severe damage to his wind pipe and throat. If he wouldn’t keep the breathing tube in, helping him breathe, it could rip
his throat to shit or worse. They’ll keep him out for a day or two; let it heal but they’re expecting a full recovery.” He explains and I give a huge thanks to the man upstairs. No doubt that he was with Conner, today.

  “I’m glad man, real glad.” I say honestly.

  “Layla still with Kady?” He asks.

  “No, Jody went home and waited for Merissa. He didn’t want Kady to wake up without one of us there.” I let him know.

  “That’s good. When you talk to her, can you tell her I’ll call her tonight? I’m sorry I missed movie night.” He smiled the first real smile I’d seen since I’d seen him at the shop, yesterday.

  “Of course. I was going to call her later on this evening, anyway. Do you need anything from home? I’m going to go home for a bit and rearrange my appointments, Layla said she’ll handle it and Jody can take the ones who don’t want to reschedule. She put on the website that we weren’t taking walk-ins until the first of the month. It’ll give you time to get Conner better and come back in your own time.” I explain and he agrees that it sounds good. I think he’d agree to just about anything, right now.

  “So, I was hoping to ask you and Jody but he’s not here so I’ll just ask you.” Kayson started, looking nervous. “I want Conner to move in with us. His apartment isn’t livable and he’s going to need someone to take care of him, King. I wanna take care of him.” He almost begged. He didn’t need to convince me though; I was fine with Conner moving in. I figured it’d head there eventually anyway; my brother wasn’t one to waste time if he wasn’t serious about something. I told him I was fine with it and I’d run it by Jody when I got home, even though I knew, Jody wouldn’t care either. If Kayson was happy, we were happy. He hugged me again and took off.

  “Gonna get back to my boy.” He’d smiled and turned to walk back through the double doors, happier than I’d seen him in a while.

  Chapter 8: Morgan

  I woke up this morning with texts from Kingsley. I’ll admit that I fell asleep with my phone clutched to my hands, waiting on him to text me back after his movie night with his sister. Knowing that he was at home, watching the Lion King with a six-year-old was doing weird things to my tumor laced brain.

  Kingsley: I’m sorry I missed your texts last night. My brother’s boyfriend had an apartment fire. We’ve been at the hospital all night.

  Kingsley: That sounded ominous, he’s going to be okay.

  Kingsley: Going home to get some sleep, text me later?

  He’d sent that last one, only ten minutes ago. I closed the messages and decided to dial him instead. Finding his name was easy, I only had a few numbers in my phone and most of them business related.

  “Hello?” He’d answered after the second ring.

  “Hey, you okay?” I asked in greeting.

  “I’m okay, you okay?” He replied. I could tell he was smiling and I took that as a good sign.

  “I’m good, just got up and starving, which I find is a good thing. How’s your brother and his boyfriend? Everyone okay?” I inquire. I don’t know these people but a house fire seems scary. Plus, they’re Kingsley’s family and we’re friends now, so I can wonder about things like that, right?

  “Kayson’s okay, worried I think, but feeling better now that he’s gotten to see Conner. Conner, they’re keeping asleep and comfortable until some of his injuries heal; they’re confident though, that he’ll make a full recovery.” He explains.

  “That’s a relief, I can’t imagine how scary that must’ve been for them.” I comment.

  “That, it was.” He sighs. “What have you got planned today?” He asks, changing the subject.

  “I’m meeting with my lawyer this afternoon and then a conference call with an exhibit down in Crawford. What does your day look like?” I ask, curious about what Kingsley Kennedy’s days look like.

  “Normally, I’d be heading to the shop pretty soon, but now I’m going to sleep.” He says. I know how uncomfortable hospitals are to sleep in.

  “Well, I shouldn’t keep you then; I’d just woken up to your last text and I saw it was sent recently so, I wanted to call and make sure my new friend was okay.” I tried to tease. I wish he knew how much his friendship, no matter how new it was, meant to me. I could hear the smile in his voice when he answered around a yawn;

  “Your new friend will be just fine after he gets a couple hours of sleep.” He says. “We should meet up for dinner.”

  “Dinner?” I wonder, out loud. “Like, out?” I ask, hesitantly. It’s not that I wouldn’t love to go out to dinner with him; in another life, I would have jumped at the chance to have dinner with him. Now? With a bald head and sunken, pale, skin, I didn’t like to go out and about if I didn’t have to and my immune system was for shit right now.

  “Or in, it doesn’t matter.” He says nonchalantly.

  “You can come here if you want, we can order in?” I suggest and he readily agrees.

  “I can pick something up, what sounds good?” He asks.

  “It’s my turn, you brought me soup.” I counter. He laughs but agrees.

  “So, I’ll see you tonight, then.” He sounded pleased by that. “Around 6ish?” He offers.

  “Sounds good. See you then.” I say quietly and hear him shuffle around, assuming he’s getting ready to sleep. “I’m really glad your brother and his boyfriend are okay.”

  “Me too, see you soon.” He says back just as softly before ending the call. Maybe today will be manageable now that I have something to look forward to.

  “Mr. Blackwell, I’m sure this is very difficult for you.” My lawyer tells me as he notices my hesitance in filling out the checklist on the form I’m to fill out. Updating my will; is there anything more depressing?

  To whom do I want my assets to go to preceding my death? Who’ll get my house? My paintings? My car? Funerals and what types: Do I want burial or cremation? Do I want a graveside service? A memorial service? Do I want a sermon? List the loved ones in order of who will be speaking first. Do I want a wake or a viewing before the service? Please list the location of memorial and/or viewing. Who will officiate? Who will act as pallbearers? Who will give eulogies? Any readings, poems or hymns?

  “I’m sorry…. I don’t think I’m up to doing this, just now.” I tell him, changing my mind. This is torture.

  “Of course.” He takes the checklist back from me and I sat there, cold, yet numb. I’d come to take Stephen off of everything; I’d no longer be leaving him the house or any of my “assets”. I had a good little chunk of money in savings and I didn’t figure my funeral would cost much, hell I didn’t need any of those things listed above.

  “We can do all these when you’re feeling a bit better.” He smiles a sad smile. He’s assuming there will come a time when I actually feel better. Who knows when that’ll be or if it’ll even happen. This whole process is depressing as hell; I shouldn’t have thought to do all this today. Truth is, I don’t want to do it at all. I don’t want to have to.

  After I sign and initial all the legal forms that I didn’t have to think about, after telling my lawyer that I wanted Stephen erased from everything; I was dismissed. Thankfully.

  My conference call a little bit later was easier. Sarah Millhouse had been to every exhibit I’d ever put on and she bought at least three of my paintings over the last several years. She’s always calling and asking me to donate a painting to her gallery. I had just the one and was excited for her to see it. It was called “Singing in the Silence”. It shows a woman sitting in a garden, surrounded by flowers and trees; she was wearing a flowing white dress, with no shoes or socks on her feet. It was a dim day, not much sunlight and a bit of overcast, it was reflective and a bit morose. Her face was turned towards a blue songbird and she was reaching out to touch him. I loved this piece because even though it looked bright and colorful, when looking in the details you could feel a kind of melancholy, like perhaps the bird was once a loved one, coming to show her they were still there. I’d sent her pictures o
f it via text message but it’s hard to get the feel of something without seeing it in person. She wanted to come take a look and I agreed. She was a couple towns over, so it would be a couple days but I told her she could come whenever she liked. I had another treatment on Tuesday but that was two days away.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, I was doing some much needed deep cleaning of the house since I’d not been feeling well recently to do it. It was a great distraction from my earlier events today but also as a deterrent from obsessing about friendly hang outs with Kingsley. The man was just too fun to look at. I was about to start mopping the kitchen after vacuuming the rugs in the living room- I’d already mopped in there when I heard the front door open and close.

  “Morgan” I turned to see Stephen. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the day after walking in on him and Kingsley; had it only been a week?

  “Hey.” I said, not knowing what else to day.

  “Hey.” He says, looking unsure; as he should.

  “I’ve boxed up some of your things; books and pictures and stuff, they’re in hallway, outside the paint room.” I let him know. He looked around the walls and stuff, probably trying to notice any absence of him in them. There wouldn’t be much, I’d noticed when running across little things here and there that most of the things in here were mine. Like he was just living here but not actually making it his home, like I had.

  “So….” He hesitated, looking down at the floor before looking back up to me. He couldn’t hold my eyes for long before he locked eyes with something on the counter and finished. “This is really it for us, huh?” I wasn’t sure what there was to say; what he wanted me to say.

  “I mean, yeah. I don’t know what else you expected to happen, I really don’t.” I tell him honestly. “You brought someone else to our home, I live here, I’m home every night, what were you thinking?” I ask. That had been bugging me; the reason he’d bring someone home, he had to know he’d be caught.