by Laudat, Reon
“He swept you off your feet?”
“He tried, oh boy, did he try. And it scared the heck out of me.”
“So you tell him to slow down.”
“Auntie, he even wore that hideous sweater I made for him. And he didn’t so much as flinch when the cheapo ballpoint pen I had in my pocket leaked black ink all over his SUV’s butter-colored leather seats.”
“He wore that sweater? In public? The version you showed me? Wow. Sounds like a keeper to me.”
Kendra nodded with a melancholy smile. “I know, brave guy. And I clicked with him, even more so than I had with the others. Sometimes we’d debate and challenge one another. Sometimes we were a couple of goofballs together. I mean bona fide nerds, Auntie, guffawing like Beavis and Butt-head at his incredibly bad jokes, singing cheesy old tunes together, geeking out over an old episode of The Alternate Dimension Theater.”
Aunt Jackie nodded. “Sounds like your type all right.”
“I always enjoyed spending time with him. And I think he actually loved me,” she said as if still mystified. “All of me, the good parts, the ball-buster parts. I felt it.” She clutched herself. “I did. He said he wanted me to be his wife.”
“Oh, my! He proposed? Already?”
“See what I mean about moving too quickly? But I wouldn’t say it was an official proposal. He was sharing his intentions. I was breaking up with him. To persuade me to reconsider he wanted to let me know how serious he was about me, about us.”
“Did you tell him how you felt?”
“No. I think he knew I liked him a lot, but when the subject turned to something serious, deeper, I gave him little to work with. And then I picked a huge fight over something I shouldn’t have. And it didn’t help that I was already pissed and pickled when it happened. We could’ve had a grownup discussion about this one complicated business-related situation. But no, as is my MO, I went into harpy mode instead and let it escalate so I could shut it down, shut him down. It’ll never work, I said.”
“It’s probably not too late to run right back. Tell him what’s in your heart, sweetie. Doubts, fears, and how they cloud your thinking sometimes. Tell him you two must take it slow. I mean, if he knows about the previous fiancés, one would think he’d want to. So let it all out. If he’s as wonderful as you say, he’ll understand.”
Kendra shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You can. Admit you were wrong about some things and ask for another chance. If it’s love—”
“But that’s the thing, I don’t know if I love him for sure. Or if I even want to love him. If I’m not sure of either, I can’t go back now, not with the same baggage in tow so we can do the rinse and repeat. He doesn’t deserve that. I broke it off with the man over the phone because I’m a coward. I knew I couldn’t look him in the eye. If I saw his face or if he tried to touch me, I’d turn into a puddle of goo. And I did all this the day before his birthday. How screwed up is that?”
“Intentionally?”
“Well, not exactly.” Kendra fiddled with the ribbed edge of her turtleneck. “I had purchased a small gift for him earlier, but I had so many things whirling around inside my feverish brain those last few days we were together,” she winced, “it kind of slipped my mind. I remembered when one of my phone apps reminded me after I’d had that last conversation with him. I couldn’t call him back and say, ‘Hey, sorry, dude. Disregard the big boot I gave you until twenty-four hours after your birthday. Oh, and those nice cashmere socks I purchased for you, I’ll just pop them in the mail.’”
“I think you’re too hard on your—”
“I’m jealous of her flipping blog followers,” Kendra blurted, suddenly circling back to Vanessa. “And I concealed my IP addresses on my home and agency computers so I could surf to Just Vanessa anonymously because I know she checks traffic stats and locations and blogs about where her followers are from.”
“What? You’re losing me here. IP address?” Techno-green Aunt Jackie had let Uncle Alex handle everything related to their residential and business computers, as well as her Shabby Sheep website. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d stopped calling Wi-Fi “Wee-Fee.”
“I know it’s paranoia.” Kendra went on, “But I didn’t want her to get curious and go investigating the visitor who is on her site several times a day. Though Brooklyn or Hoboken aren’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, I thought the combination of hits from the same two places with the same two IP addresses repeating over and over again might give me away. I have all these rules for dealing with her, which include never, ever initiating contact. I go to her social media accounts, and I’m scrolling them with a feather-light touch for fear of applying too much pressure to the screen to accidentally ‘like’ or twinkle-dinkle something.”
“Twinkle-dinkle?”
“It’s a way of letting people know you enjoy their Post-a-Pic images. See, eight-year-old Kendra can’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she has my attention. And here’s another thing, I always feel worse after reading her site and social media accounts. But I cannot seem to bring myself to stop. It’s, uh, like this compulsion. I’m scouring Just Vanessa, Post-a-Pic and such, looking for clues. Bits and pieces of what exactly? The heck if I even know. Don’t tell me that’s normal behavior.”
Aunt Jackie’s lips parted, but she remained silent.
“Regarding what you revealed about Vanessa…I feel numb.” Kendra slowly shook her head. “Who is this woman who gave birth to me? And do you just sprinkle in a generous dose of platitudes and alakazam.” Kendra snapped her fingers. “I’m like the after shot of those close-up-ready sweet potato fries?”
“Huh? After shot? Sweet potato fries?”
“Am I suddenly ready for a healthy, grownup relationship with a man?”
“Honey, you’re—”
“I don’t think it works that way,” Kendra said more for herself than her aunt.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to minimize —”
“Wait. About what I said a few moments ago. The alakazam and all. I’m sorry. I’m listening to myself and thinking, Wow, I sound so cold, unfeeling, unhinged.” Weren’t crazy people the last to realize they were crazy? Kendra hoped this acknowledgment would ease Aunt Jackie’s concerns. “I don’t mean to sound as if I’m minimizing what you just told me about Vanessa. The truth is, I guess I’d grown comfortable, extremely comfortable, with my own narrative. Now, I’m floundering. It’s not so black and white after all.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “But I know I’m not ready to approach Dominic,” she said as she reached for a Kleenex on the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes, filling with tears. “For once, I need to be real with myself. But I do think I’ve taken a huge step, admitting I have a problem. My goodness! Now that sounds as if I’m in a twelve-step program. Or at the least moving to the next stage of the hero’s journey.”
“You’re losing me again. The hero’s what now?”
“Forget it. I’m rambling,” Kendra said. “I refuse to bore you to death with a detailed breakdown of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth.”
“This Joseph gave you mono?” she asked, mouth agape.
“No! No!” Kendra chuckled as her emotions ricocheted from one extreme to the other at breakneck speed.
“But you said—”
“Never mind, Auntie.” Kendra hooted. “I suppose I needed to vent and vomit, then follow up with a good laugh. Thank you for that.”
Aunt Jackie unclenched a bit so Kendra had done her job.
“You’ve been so kind, indulging me, my rants, and incessant shop talk over the years,” Kendra said.
“Think about what we’ve discussed here.”
“I will. I promise.”
Kendra sniffled as the realization settled in that her anger no longer had a place. “What you said about Vanessa. My gosh, I can’t wrap my brain around it.” She shuddered. “I can’t even put it into words. But I do care. And it’s heartbreaking, Auntie. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Vanes
sa,” Kendra whispered as if her mother could hear her. “I am so sorry that happened to you.”
“I should’ve said something sooner. It was obvious she didn’t or couldn’t. It could’ve made a difference.”
Kendra exhaled deeply, unsure how to respond as she tore little pieces off the wadded tissue.
“You okay?”
Kendra blew her nose with a fresh tissue, releasing a rude honking sound that made them both laugh. “Yeah, I’m going to be. Promise. I love you. Thank you for your patience. I don’t hold you responsible for anything. I understand the choice you made.”
“I love you too. Always. And we’ve helped each other over the years. You’ve been such a blessing to me, more than you’ll ever know,” she said, her eyes gentle with unconditional adoration as she placed a warm hand on Kendra’s cheek.
“You’re making me blubber again. I’m not used to so much mushiness in one sitting.” They shared another watery laugh and an extended, rocking hug before Kendra came to her feet. “I’m going to go wash my face. I’m sure I’m all raccoon-eyed right about now. I’ll be right back.”
Inside the bathroom Kendra sat on the toilet, leaned forward, and placed her face in her hands to weep some more without worrying her aunt.
Afterward, she washed up, looked in the mirror to put on her best happy face. She emerged, rubbing her hands together. “Now, let’s decorate! Time to get those gorgeous new snowflakes on that tree! Chop, chop!”
Aunt Jackie lifted the platter. “Not before you have at least one of these cookies.”
Kendra shoved a gingerbread man inside her mouth, quickly decapitating him. “There. Better?”
“Better.” Aunt Jackie smiled.
Chapter 38
In the days that immediately followed, Kendra did more work from home, leaving Brittany to handle the office. She sat on her sofa and looked through the stack of agency mail a courier had delivered earlier that morning
Kendra continued to take care of her current clients, resumed her fund-raising volunteer work with Sedgemont Friends, and completed all Christmas shopping online. She even dragged herself to the Jingle Bell Brunch, an annual gift-swapping gathering with her closest friends, making good on her promise not to let a man or man-related problems come between them. But instead of lifting her spirits, that brunch had brought her down. Pretending to ‘eat, drink, and be merry’ had been tough, but answering questions about yet another failed relationship made it nearly unbearable. She’d shared which was best described as a CliffsNotes version of the latest breakup. Fortunately, Brittany, Alyssa, and Selena had not pressed for many details. Yet. And Selena had been surprisingly compassionate, wrapping her in hugs and holding back all sniping about Dominic and his unsuitability as a match for Kendra.
She aced compartmentalization. When she wasn’t working she tended to move around in a dense mental fog. She didn’t trust leaving the apartment without checking several sticky notes attached to the front door: Check stove, iron, and water faucets! She’d also lost her desire to knit.
When she wasn’t at Aunt Jackie’s place, doing her volunteer work, or handling agency business, she took to her bed and watched tearjerker movies, though Christmas was just a few days away.
Kendra had pulled out an old photo album she’d borrowed from her aunt and looked at the numerous smiling childhood photos of Vanessa.
She had been so quick to judge the never-ending slew of soft-focus boasting blog and social media snapshots of Vanessa’s “perfect” life with doting Ashton. She’d ridiculed Vanessa’s need to share “her highlight reel” with the world and feed off the adoration of her followers.
What Kendra had learned brought on the sensation of dry drowning the more she thought about it. A different sort of nightmare emerged, not one with eight-year-old Kendra cast as the victim, but one with a prepubescent Vanessa suffering through horrendous exploitation.
Missing out on the opportunity to represent one of the best manuscripts Kendra had read in a long time now seemed so petty. Other fantastic manuscripts would come her way. That’s why she’d chosen this business. Why couldn’t she have been sensible when it mattered? Before she’d sacrificed her relationship with Dominic. She missed his strong arms around her; the warm rumble of his deep voice against her ear; that how-did-I-get-so-darn-lucky twinkle in his eyes when he looked at her; the way he liked to play with the colored lock of her hair; his “cornucopia” of utterly dreadful punch lines.
But Dominic had kept his word. No visits. No yarn. No gag gifts. No phone calls. No stupid viral Internet memes. No pleading texts or emails.
Unlike previous breakups, Kendra found little solace in her usual comfort foods: ice cream sundaes, Cool Ranch Doritos, and onion-laden Philly cheesesteaks. Or even her beloved brewski. Perhaps it was best that she was more prone to think, rather than drink, through her darkest times. With her gut in knots, she still couldn’t consume much beyond sugary breakfast cereal. If she kept this up, her favorite jeans would no longer fit. While she’d bemoaned a little weight gain the last time she was with Dominic, she actually loved her curves and wanted to keep them.
As the nausea persisted and her period failed to show, she became anxious, recalling that day she’d had sex with Dominic and the broken condom. So far, several early home pregnancy tests had been negative. She would wait a few more days and test again.
Kendra worked her way through envelopes until her hands paused on one from Corinne. She had reached out with a beautiful Christmas card and long letter with an earnest apology for the spineless way she’d handled changing her mind about working with Porter Literary Agency. Kendra knew all about taking the coward’s way.
Corinne’s explanation, Dominic’s style was the better fit for her temperament. Momster Ostertag had also lobbied for Dominic after hearing his pitch. Surprise. Surprise.
When Kendra rose from the sofa too quickly, she felt light-headed. It was high time she put some decent nutrients in her body to keep up her strength. Protein. Veggies. Grains. So she fixated on that Philly cheesesteak on a whole wheat bun recipe she’d ripped out of the latest Rachael Ray magazine. “Yummo!” Rachael promised.
Maybe inhaling its aroma would arouse Kendra’s appetite. She made a trip to the store to buy all the fixings that Saturday afternoon. She returned to her apartment and proceeded to chop white onions for the sandwich and her left index finger. That finger oozed hours later even after she’d applied pressure as instructed on those first-aid websites. Visions of bleeding to death in her sleep held little appeal so she skipped a much-needed nap. Eventually she panicked, dressed, and dashed to the ER where, miraculously, she didn’t have to wait for hours to see a doctor.
A young physician with a strong-boned face and auburn hair scraped back in a low man-bun joined her in the small curtained area. As he inspected her wound she pleaded, Bleed, sucker, bleed. Clotting had inconveniently kicked in as the doctor sat on the stool next to the examining table where she’d perched.
Exhaustion dimmed his eyes. Though his badge read Dr. David, she dubbed him Dr. Dour.
Kendra gave him the once-over. He wore scrubs with neon sneakers. The kind Dominic would wear. No. No. No. Steer thoughts away from Dominic. That’s what drove you here in the first place.
“Cool kicks!” said Kendra, her jittery smile a little too wide.
“Thank you. My wife bought them for me.”
Whoops! Did he think she was flirting? “The laceration needs sutures?” Kendra repeated a line she’d read in medical thrillers written by her client J.R. Atkinson. She hoped it would require at least four or five stitches. No, six stitches and a splint. Shoot, six stitches, a splint and a prescription painkiller. An opioid would block her pain and have a euphoric side effect. She could use all the artificially-stimulated euphoria she could get.
After examining her injury, he pushed out a heavy breath and his scornful look seemed to say, Would you like me to kiss your boo-boo and make it all better?
Dr. Dour came to h
is feet, called over the nurse wearing a sparkly reindeer-antlers headband, and gave her instructions. The older woman’s lips tipped up in a mollifying smile. Had the doctor dismissed himself to call for Kendra’s psych evaluation? She wanted to slink away. Hey, it was gushing like a geyser a minute ago, and it still hurts like heck! She considered waving the blood-stained gauze at the nurse.
“That’s beautiful,” Kendra said instead, referring to the gold-chained crucifix catching light and encircling the woman’s neck.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a look at Kendra’s injury.
When the nurse dabbed what looked like an antiseptic solution on a Q-tip and applied three itty-bitty white adhesive strips, Kendra felt like an idiot. What had come over her? “So, I take it you’re all out of Hello Kitty Band-Aids,” she joked through her humiliation.
“The sight of our own blood can be frightening sometimes,” the nurse said with tact Kendra did not deserve. “Digits can seem to bleed endlessly. When was the last time you had a tetanus, dear?”
“I can’t remember getting one.”
“Well, there you go. You should have a tetanus every ten years. Maybe that’s why the dear Lord led you here.”
The “dear Lord” had nothing to do with Kendra’s poor judgment or the outrageous co-pay ER bill sure to follow, but she smiled and submitted to the shot so something beneficial would come out of the unnecessary visit.
On her way out, she passed another partitioned area, and then her heart must have stopped. There stood …No it couldn’t be…Dominic?
Chapter 39
Dominic wasn’t alone.
A gorgeous woman with a chic micro-pixie hairdo sat on the edge of an examining table with one pant leg rolled up. Dr. Dour surveyed her bare foot and ankle. Dominic stood close by with a protective hand on Pixie Chick’s shoulder. Though in obvious distress, she tittered at something Dominic had whispered to her.
Dominic looked good. Damn manly-man good. He’d buzzed his dark hair. He wore a plaid lumberjack shirt, army jacket, jeans, and his favorite beat-up combat boots.