by Sarina Bowen
This time I was ready for the door slam. I didn’t even flinch.
Without hesitation, Jonas slid into the empty chair across from me. He chucked Luke’s empty bottle into the ice bucket, and then leaned down to take a beer for himself. “Wow,” he said. “What a tool.”
“Jonas!” Now I felt my own flash of anger. “I’ve known him my whole life. It was rude to go all rock-star power trip and chase him away.”
His eyebrows went up. “Damn, Kira. It’s going to take me an hour just to unpack that sentence. First of all, what just went down there has nothing to do with my day job. So that’s just not fair. And more importantly, I didn’t chase him away at all. He just up and walked. And that’s why he’s a tool. If a guy means to stake his claim, he doesn’t walk. No matter what.”
Good God. I lifted my cold beer bottle to the side of my face and tried to calm down. “I just… You…” I made a little noise of frustration.
“You’re not with him,” Jonas said suddenly. “And he doesn’t have a prayer.”
“Stop!” I spat. “That is the most caveman thing I’ve ever heard. Why would you assume that? And what business is it of yours?”
Jonas shrugged. “I turned up the heat on him, and he just got up and left. If he’s really your man, he wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s honoring my privacy.”
“He’s a coward.”
“Really? His army specialty was disarming explosives.” Although Adam had used exactly the same word for Luke. More than once.
“Look,” Jonas continued, “I get that my weird choice of careers freaks you out, and that’s because you’re smart. But you know what freaks me out? The thought that you put up with a bunch of judgment from people when you were pregnant and alone. I’m going to be sitting with that a long time.”
I didn’t know what to do with this bit of kindness. “Jonas. Why would you use up part of your precious fourteen hours discussing my high school boyfriend? Don’t we have bigger things to worry about?”
He set his beer down on the table. “I’m just trying to figure out how we got here, Kira. Maybe if I can understand why you didn’t tell me about Vivi, then I’ll be able to fix it. I need to be involved, but I don’t want to scare you. Today you looked fucking terrified.”
I was terrified. Seeing him after all these years made me want to jump out of my skin. But I couldn’t admit that, because it was much too revealing. “Sharing Vivi is scary for me.”
Jonas nodded. “I’m sure that’s true. And I would never—never—try to take her from you, okay? But that still doesn’t answer the question. When you were twenty and pregnant, that wasn’t the reason you didn’t call.”
He had me there. God, I didn’t want to say it, though. And couldn’t he guess the reason? I’d written to him. I’d told him my deepest feelings, and he’d said… nothing. “I don’t see how rehashing the past is going to make this easier,” I croaked.
“All right,” he whispered, letting me off the hook, at least for now. He leaned back in his chair and sniffed the night air.
Sitting here with him felt like a time warp. I remembered how easily we used to talk. The familiar shine of his eyes in the candlelight made my heart ache. That summer I’d lived for the hours when I could sit across from him, discussing everything and nothing. For a long time after my attack, not much had felt easy. But talking to Jonas had.
But now talking to him was hard.
“I’m sorry, you know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry to give you such a shock today.”
He didn’t meet my eyes. “I… I know you’re a good person, Kira. But it’s hard to understand why you did it.”
“I know I should have told you as soon as I figured out who you were. But the more time that passed, the harder it got. I knew I was going to have to deal with it eventually. When you’re holding a newborn baby in your arms, you feel like you should try to control every moment of her life. But every day Vivi gets a little sharper. I knew she deserved the truth, too.”
“Yeah, okay.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. And I really shouldn’t have been admiring the way his muscles bulged. “But I could have helped. It kills me to think that you didn’t believe that.”
“That wasn’t why I didn’t call.” I put a hand over his on the table. “I never thought you wouldn’t help. I didn’t want to ask you for your help. There’s a big difference.”
“Yeah. Fine. But I’m here now, and even though you didn’t ask me, I’m offering. Tell me what I can do. What do you need?”
“I just need…” I swallowed hard. “I don’t want Vivi to feel tension between us. So the thing I need most is for you not to hate me over this.”
His eyes went soft. “I could never hate you, sweetness. I really need you to know that.”
“But this is all on me. Back then… I wasn’t careful. I used…” In my mind, I’d explained this to him a hundred times already, but it was so hard to admit how stupid I’d been.
Jonas only waved a hand, as if dismissing a small thing. “Birth control fails sometimes.”
“Has it ever… Do you have any other children?” I asked.
He coughed on the next sip of his beer. “Not that I know about.”
“Oh.” I laughed, hiding my eyes. “Too soon for that question?”
“Too soon.” A flicker of a smile crossed his face, and I couldn’t help but smile back. For a split second, the old warmth shone in his eyes, and my heart took a swoopy detour through my stomach. To break the spell, I looked out toward the Kreemy Kone, which was doing the Nest Lake version of a brisk business. The light spilling from the service window illuminated two couples, one at each picnic table.
Jonas reached over and squeezed my hand. Startled, I turned back to face him. He was the second man to do that tonight. Yet this was the first time I wished I didn’t have to let go. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” I said.
“I’m thinking that I have to head to Quebec City tomorrow for a music festival. But I’m coming to Boston in nine days to play a concert at the waterfront. And I’d really like you and Vivi to come to it.”
“Oh,” I said slowly. “A concert?” In just nine days? I thought I’d have a little longer to get my head on straight.
Jonas frowned. “I can see that you don’t love the idea. But it would be a favor to me. And if Vivi hates it, you can always bail after the first song.”
“Well…” I couldn’t expect Jonas to have any experience with preschoolers, and now I was going to sound like the mom that I’d become. “I don’t know if you can take a four-year-old to a rock concert. How late does it start?”
“That’s the lucky thing,” he said. “Because it’s outdoors, and the noise bleeds, everything starts earlier than usual. Seven, I think?”
“Um.” Could we really do that? Maybe if Vivi took a good nap first. “I’ll think about it.”
“I hope you will. You were right when you said I’d be busy for the next ten weeks. I’ve asked Ethan to try to find me a couple other dates when I have time off. He’s going to see if there are any gaps when I could fly to Boston. The tour finishes up in August, but I don’t want to wait that long to see you guys unless I have to.”
Whoa. That made it sound like Jonas was already set on being a part of Vivi’s life. That meant he’d turn up from time to time. Maybe at the kindergarten graduation. Or the third-grade Christmas concert. I pictured Jonas flying in for the weekend to take Vivi to the zoo, or whatever it was that part-time fathers did.
That meant years and years of my stomach turning somersaults every time he showed his face. Jonas knew—or he’d known at one time—how deeply I felt about him. We would have to brush that under the rug and behave as if I’d never thrown my heart at him. And as if he’d never stomped on it.
I was in for a good fifteen years or so of torture.
But hey—I should look on the bright side. Paying Vivi’s college tuition had just gotten easier.
“A penny for
your thoughts,” Jonas said, fingering his beer.
“I’m just trying to picture it,” I said.
“Picture what? The concert?”
“The future.”
“Ah,” he said. “I’m not sure that works too well. But we all try, anyway.”
I took a sip of my beer. The bottle was sweating in the warm summertime air. And even if my thoughts were in turmoil, the silence between us felt more comfortable now.
“I lost my parents when I was seven,” Jonas said suddenly.
“That’s young.” I’d read all about it on his Wikipedia entry. “It was a car wreck, right?” I’d often wondered if that was what he’d been talking about when he told me that the squeal of brakes frightened him.
“Yeah. A horrible thing. We were at a music festival, and I was standing in line for ice cream while they waited nearby. So I saw it happen.” He looked away. “It was bad enough losing them. But what happened afterwards was bad, too. I went to an aunt who had three kids of her own. She didn’t want another one.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t the sort of thing that showed up on Wikipedia. “I’m so sorry.”
“I just… I don’t want to sound morbid. But if I have a child on this earth, I’m going to make myself available, okay? I don’t know if I’ll be any good at being somebody’s dad. But I couldn’t stand for Vivi to think her father didn’t care to try.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He dropped his voice. “You trusted me once before, Kira. You’re going to have to trust me again.”
“I know,” I choked out. I was scared, and the future felt so uncertain. And it was humbling to finally face up to all my secrets. But Jonas was so beautiful in the candlelight, and I didn’t want to look away.
“What’s the matter?” He covered my hand again and squeezed.
I shook my head to try to clear it. “I just don’t know what happens next.”
“Of course you do, sweetness. That’s easy. We drink a couple of beers, and then I walk you home.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at me.
Wow. That smile. I’d missed it so much.
He made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t simple at all. My heart was fit to burst. “It’s weird to be here with you again.”
“It’s not weird, Kira,” he said, quietly. “It’s fucking awesome.”
And my poor little pounding heart agreed with him.
Ten
Kira
On the trip back to Boston the next morning, I let Adam drive. After twenty minutes, I turned around to peek at Vivi. My daughter had fallen asleep, Purple Kitty tucked onto her shoulder and under her resting chin.
Purple Kitty used to be all we had of Jonas. But now he was on his purple bus somewhere, headed to Canada, with my number in his phone. As if that weren’t weird enough, he was coming to Boston in just over a week.
I felt a nervous rush just imagining it.
“Adam,” I whispered to my brother. “We have to talk.”
“Yup.” He sighed. “You first.”
“Hush Note is playing at the waterfront in a week, and Jonas invited all of us to go. Can you come too?”
“Hmm. I hope so.”
“Do you have a better offer?”
He shook his head. And that’s when I noticed how grim he looked.
“Hey, is something wrong?”
“Is Vivi asleep?”
I took another peek. “Yes.”
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Kiki, do you remember when you told me that you were pregnant? You said, ‘I need to tell you something, and I need you not to freak out.’”
“I remember.”
There was a brief silence, and then Adam took a breath. “I need to tell you something, and I need you not to freak out. And what’s more, there’s no reason to freak out, okay?”
My heart lurched. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t put off telling you any longer. Last week a doctor told me that I have testicular cancer. He also said that it’s going to be okay.”
“No!” I gasped, and then took care to lower my voice. “That’s impossible.”
“Unfortunately, it isn’t. However, the survival rate is between ninety-six and ninety-nine percent. Basically, if you ever get the big C, you want to have it in one of your nuts.”
Ninety-six to ninety-nine percent. It was hard to deny it sounded survivable, but my eyes filled with tears anyway. “Are you sure? You’re too young to have cancer.”
“I’m sure. And it’s guys fifteen to thirty-four who typically get it,” he said. “I’m right on schedule.”
Ugh. “Do you promise those are the odds? You didn’t just say that so I wouldn’t get hysterical?”
Without taking his eyes off the road, Adam reached over and gave my elbow a squeeze. “I promise, Kiki. It’s going to suck. But then I’ll be okay again. I have to have surgery.”
“Are you in any pain?”
He shook his head. “Nope. There are no symptoms, except for a lump where there shouldn’t be a lump. And I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon to get pre-surgical bloodwork done. The surgery is really pretty simple, too. It’s not supposed to be any worse than a bad root canal.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “The dentist never asks me to drop my pants, Adam.”
He chuckled, too. And after a couple of seconds, both of us were trying not to completely bust a gut. Just two full-grown adults, trying to drive down a country road while cracking up over a cancer joke.
Adam let out an ill-timed hiccup, which only set off another round of giggling.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “We’ve gone off the deep end.”
“Yup,” Adam said, flicking a mirthful tear from his face. “This shall be known as The Weekend Of Overabundant Drama.”
“That spells WOOD.”
Adam snorted. “There are so many jokes in there just waiting for their chance to shine.”
I blew out a breath. “Adam, how can I help you? Can I come to your doctor’s appointment?”
“Today’s appointment is just a needle stick. But I have others this week, because I’m getting a second opinion. You can tag along and hear what they have to say.”
“How soon will you have the surgery?”
He shrugged. “Within the next two weeks, I think.”
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I won’t go to this concert. Whatever. Let’s just focus on getting you through this. Let me know as soon as you schedule the procedure. I can cancel some shifts at work.”
“Thank you,” my brother said quietly. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Always.”
We both settled into our private thoughts as the miles went by. No wonder Adam had been acting strangely. According to Jonas, he’d been smoking. That had to mean that he was more worried than he let on. “I’m sorry,” I blurted into the silence.
“What for?”
“Being such a drama queen this weekend.”
Adam gave a low chuckle. “It’s not your fault. We’ll handle it, okay? All of it. We always do.”
Unfortunately, the next few days were sobering.
I went to Adam’s second round of doctor’s appointments. I heard many words of encouragement. “Chance of five-year survival above ninety percent,” and “probably caught it early enough,” and “no long-term health consequences.”
But the second team of doctors suggested a different treatment protocol, which left us googling “testicular cancer surgery” six ways till Sunday, and drowning in medical jargon.
With Vivi in her last week of preschool for the year, I called in sick to work and went with my brother to yet another consultation. Sitting there in the sterile waiting room while he had more scans done, I felt numb with fear.
It just wasn’t fair. I didn’t want Adam to have to go through this. He was already the oldest twenty-nine-year-old I knew. He supported a family of three, and cared for a child he had not created. And all without complaint.
But Vivi had a bedtime meltdown, and after she’d gone to sleep, I couldn’t quite find the nerve to call him solo. Obviously, it was Vivi he wanted to speak to.
He’d called again today, when Adam and I were waiting for the results of one of his tests. Since Adam wanted to keep his illness private, I didn’t take the call.
An hour later, he’d followed up with a text. Can you tell me when is a good time to talk? J.S.
For years I’d dreamed of getting that text. Sometimes I’d even fantasized about him turning up on my doorstep with my love letter in his hand. “There was a mistake, and I didn’t get this until now,” he’d always said in those dreams. “I’m sorry, my love. But I’m here now.”
Right. My brother’s sci-fi TV shows had more realistic plots.
Later in the evening, Adam came home from work looking so grim I assumed he’d gotten some terrible news. “What is it?” I asked, panicked. “A test?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, Kiki.”
But he did not look fine. I’d made one of his favorite foods for dinner, and he wasn’t eating it.
“Adam,” I whispered when Vivi darted into my bedroom in search of a doll. “If you’re refusing my white lasagna with spinach, I’m going to call the paramedics.”
He pushed his plate away. “I got a pile of legal documents from Jonas Smith’s lawyer today.”
My water glass froze on the way to my mouth. “Really? What do they say?”
“They weren’t what I’d hoped.” He folded his hands on the table. “Although it could just be posturing. Some lawyers are just dicks by default. If they want you to take two steps, they’ll first ask for twenty.”
“Adam! Just tell me what they said.”
“Most of it is standard.” He chewed his lip. “They’re requesting a paternity test, after which, they’ll file a complaint to establish paternity.”