“We’ll be in touch, Ms. Lane. Thank you.”
“Thank you for the opportunity,” I replied, picking up my guitar and returning to the waiting room on shaky legs, leaving the same way I’d come in. Squinting in the morning light after being in the dark auditorium, I walked out into the parking lot and glimpsed the back of Colby’s car pulling out.
***
The day after making it through my audition without freaking out, I boarded the plane to face yet another challenge. The thought of dealing with my mother when I told her, adamantly, that I wasn’t moving home was intimidating. Yet I knew there could be no backing down this time if I was to move forward in my life, doing what I wanted.
After spotting Colby at my audition yesterday, I’d been through the gauntlet of emotions. Clearly, he hadn’t wished to be seen. I’d gone from hoping he’d missed me to thinking he’d only come to satisfy his guilt over ending things. Or maybe he’d wanted to be there as the friend he’d always been. I sighed heavily, deciding that friendship may be the key to dealing positively with the baptism this weekend.
Worrying that he might try to avoid me and therefore be tempted to miss his niece’s baptism, I dialed his number while in the back of the cab on the way from the airport to my parents’ house, nervous that he’d pick up, then disappointed when he didn’t. Deciding a message may be better, after all, I cleared my voice, waiting for the beep.
“Hey, it’s me, Kenzie. I had my audition yesterday, but I suppose you already knew that.” Shit I hadn’t meant to bring that up over the phone.
“I, um, wanted to talk to you before the baptism. I’m hoping you’re okay with me being there, but if you’re not, then obviously you should be the one to go, as Abigail is your niece. But I thought maybe we could at least return to being friends, you know, before the sex.” I winced, not having meant to mention our physical relationship. Double shit.
“I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, obviously you remember being friends before that happened, and I guess that’s the part I miss the most. Not that I don’t miss the sex, too. Jesus, I’ve now said sex twice—well, three times now—in a message to see if we can be friends. Um, anyhow, I’m heading home to talk to my mom about not going to business school, so wish me luck or, at the very least, a good glass of whiskey after.” Great, now I was rambling. “Uh, I’m here. I’ll talk to you later I guess.”
The taxi pulled up in front of my house, and I hung up before I realized I should’ve waited to see if there was an option to erase and re-record. Then again who was I kidding? The next version probably would’ve been an even bigger train wreck. Besides, I had a more pressing issue to deal with at the moment.
***
Dinner with my parents was a quiet affair, and unfortunately, manners dictated that I not ruin the meal with my agenda. So when my father started talking before it was over, I was surprised.
“McKenzie, your mother and I have something we need to speak with you about.” He sounded resigned, as if he was about to fire an employee and was trying to let me down easy.
I glanced over toward my mom’s pained face and realized quickly that my dad was going to do most of the talking.
“There’s really no good way to say this: Your mother and I are separating.”
My eyes widened. Although he’d hinted that things weren’t going well in our last phone conversation, I was still stunned. My mother sat there quietly, the only evidence of her discomfort was the slight flush creeping up her neck.
“As in divorcing?”
He nodded, barely looking at my mom. “Virginia law requires we’re separated for one year before we can file, but yes, that’s ultimately what it means.”
My mother finally broke her silence. “The house, of course, remains with me, and you can live here for at least the first year of grad school. I spoke to Cecilia Bennett from church, and she said her husband commutes into Georgetown daily in a van pool that has room for one more.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wasn’t this the point where most parents would tell their kids that they still loved them despite the split? But nope, not my mom. She went straight into logistics. I could only hope it was her coping mechanism. “Can we back up a minute? Have you told Brian or Ben?”
My mother sighed. “Ben knows because I told Rebecca. Brian isn’t talking to me after he told me he got engaged, and I voiced my opinion on the matter.”
Huh, well, that was news. I hadn’t known Brian and Mom weren’t speaking.
“I plan on telling Brian this weekend,” my dad inserted. He might not be my brother’s biological father but, he’d been in Brian’s life for the last twenty-three years and obviously had affection for him.
“Your property manager told me you moved out and turned in the keys. The next order of business will be getting your things relocated out here,” my mom went on, ignoring the talk of divorce or my feelings on the matter.
Only a few weeks ago, I would’ve swallowed it down, figuring now certainly wasn’t the time to bring up anything that might upset her further, but I didn’t have it in me any more to perpetuate the lie. “I’m not moving home.”
“We’ll have to figure out if it’s better to ship your car or sell it out there and just get you another one.”
Unbelievable. She continued to purposefully ignore what I had to say. This time I said it louder. “I’m not moving home, Mother.”
She finally looked up. “How can you say that, knowing your father is leaving and I’ll be all alone?”
Realization dawned that her panic this entire time to have me come home was because of the impending divorce. My features softened, as did my tone. “I’m sorry, and I’m sad that you’re splitting up, but it doesn’t change my decision.”
“We won’t fund you living out in LA, McKenzie.” Her tone was sharp even if her eyes were watery.
My father cut in. “You may not, but I certainly would. Matter of fact, I offered. But, she’s already turned me down, intending to do it on her own.”
“You told her about us already?” she asked, turning toward him and clearly upset.
“No. I simply stated that we’re not on the same page when it came to cutting her off. She will remain on my medical insurance and cell phone plan. Then, if she needs any other financial assistance, she can ask me directly.”
Her lips pressed together in a firm, irritated line. “I see. What’s your grand plan, then, McKenzie?”
God, the tension was almost unbearable, but I was already taking the on-ramp to independence—might as well press on the gas pedal.
“I auditioned yesterday for a record label. If I’m chosen, I would be a backup singer for a big-name artist and may have the opportunity to tour with them. Of course, I’d have to decide if that’s what I want to do.” At the very least, I’d like to find out who I’d be singing with, the schedule, and what it paid.
“Is there anything you have managed to make up your mind about?”
I bristled. “Yes. I’m not moving home, I’m not attending business school, and most of all, I’m not going to feel guilty for no longer wanting what you do.”
“You have no plan, no money, and absolutely no idea what you’re doing with your future.”
“I know, and I’m okay with that. I have plenty of options, and I’m twenty-two, so if I don’t like the first few, I’ll try some others.”
“What options? A backup singer gig that may or may not happen?”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you. I love you both, and I feel terrible about the timing, but I’m leaving for Bali on Sunday night with a volunteer program to teach English and music abroad. I’ll be gone a few weeks, and when I get back, I’ll decide what I want to do next.”
I’d never witnessed an occasion where my mother appeared this shocked. Even my father seemed astonished.
“How did this come about?” my dad asked.
I recapped my volunteer work at the children’s hospital and the interest in travel. My mom was listening but said
nothing.
“I’m glad Mark vetted it, and it sounds like a great opportunity.”
My mother glared at him. “Sounds like an excuse to avoid real responsibility, not to mention a way to avoid ever having a career or make good money.”
I was absolutely done fighting with her and trying to do so respectfully when it was clear she wasn’t giving me the same courtesy. I scooted my chair back abruptly, the angry sound unfamiliar in this dining room, and stood up to address her. “Money and career don’t motivate me. I want to be happy in what I’m doing, and volunteering with kids gives me that. You don’t have to agree with my decisions, Mom, or understand what inspires me, but it would be nice if you’d be supportive. And if you can’t manage that, then we have nothing left to say. I won’t be held hostage to the worry I’m going to disappoint you any longer. Life is too short.”
She clenched her jaw, stood up, and left the room.
My father smiled sympathetically. “She’ll come around eventually, kiddo. In the meantime, let’s clear the dishes, then go have a drink and watch the baseball game on TV.”
***
The next morning, despite having a slight hangover due to drinking scotch with my dad the night before, I donned my running attire and set out for a jog. I wasn’t one hundred percent yet, but my ankle was certainly starting to feel better as I eased back into my running routine with the help of a good brace.
I wondered what I’d do about staying in the house. Obviously, I could continue to do so, but the tension this morning when I’d simply entered the kitchen with my mother already there was unbearable. She wasn’t speaking to me at all. Brian had texted me this morning offering to pay for a hotel room or there was always the option of calling up one of my high school friends and ask to stay with them. But in the end, it would be easiest if I sucked it up and ignored my mother the way my father seemed to be doing.
Passing the Singer estate on my way back, I smiled at Patricia, Colby and Josh’s Mom, who was out getting the morning paper at the end of her driveway.
“Hi, honey. How are you?” she greeted.
As I took out my earbuds, I felt genuinely happy to see her. She’d always been kind to me over the years, and it made me feel closer to Colby to talk to his mom. “I’m good.” I protested when she went to hug me, “Oh, no, I’m sweaty.”
She did it anyhow. “As if I care, you gorgeous girl. Everything all right?”
I’d never had the sort of mom who could ask that simple question and make you want to bare your soul to her. Have her hold you in an embrace and simply cry on her shoulder. Mrs. Singer was that type of mom, but considering most of my tears were over her son, I shrugged it off.
“Yeah, it’s all good. Are you looking forward to Sunday?”
She beamed. “I’m biased, but I think my granddaughter is about the most precious thing on the planet.” Her eyes assessed me. “You sure everything is okay at home?”
I realized she might already know about my parent’s separation and felt my smile slip. “It’s fine.”
“Why don’t you come in for a few minutes? I put on some coffee, and it would be nice to catch up.”
“I should probably get back to shower and—”
She wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Nonsense. Come on. It gets lonely sometimes in that big old house.”
I’d heard she was dating someone after having been widowed for over ten years, but according to Colby, the man traveled quite a bit for business and obviously wasn’t here now. “All right, maybe for a few minutes.”
After I followed her into her beautiful home, she had me take a seat on the kitchen island stool and disappeared for a moment before returning with a sweatshirt in her hands. “Here, my dear, put this on so you don’t catch a chill with the AC in the house after being outside sweating.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, putting on the large hoodie.
“That was Colby’s when he was in high school and played soccer.”
I had to bite my lip from crying over a stupid sweatshirt because I missed him like crazy.
Sensing my distress, she sat down beside me. “I’ve known you your whole life, McKenzie, and I’ve never seen you look sad a day in it. Now, what’s going on?”
Taking a deep breath, I figured I could be at least half honest with her about what was weighing me down. “My parents are getting divorced. Separated for now, but in a year, divorced. And my mother is upset because I won’t move home to be with her. I feel guilty because she’s going to be all alone but wish she’d understand that I can’t live my life for her. My dad is staying on the other side of the house for now, my mom won’t talk to me, and I don’t think I can stay in that house another minute.” How was that for a fire-hose response?
Her eyes showed sympathy before she gathered me in for a hug. “Then, it’s settled. You can stay here.”
“What?”
“I have plenty of bedrooms.” She got up and poured me a glass of water.
“Uh, won’t your family be coming in?”
She smiled. “Josh, Haylee, and Abigail come in tomorrow morning and Colby probably not until Sunday, knowing him. But it doesn’t matter; you’re welcome to stay when they’re here, too.”
“Maybe just for tonight if that’s okay?” I couldn’t remain here once everyone came in. It would be too weird given the circumstances, but one night away from the tension sounded wonderful.
“Good it’s settled. Why don’t you go pack your things and bring them over? If you have stuff to do today, you can use any one of the cars. We could also have dinner together tonight if you don’t have other plans.”
“Are you sure this doesn’t put you in an awkward position with my mom?” I’d probably never understand what kept them friends over the years with them being complete opposites, but I certainly didn’t want to cause a rift.
“You let me worry about that.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. You’re like family.”
***
My dad seemed relieved when I told him I was staying the night with a friend, insisting I’d have a better time that way given the current tension in the house. My mother was nowhere to be found, which made the decision whether to tell her a moot point.
The fact that Mrs. Singer put me in Colby’s bedroom was either a cruel cosmic joke or a weird coincidence.
“Two of the guest rooms are in disarray, and the other two down the hall I have slated for Josh, Haylee, and Abigail, so use this one tonight.”
It was ironic that when I decided to take a nap later, my phone rang with Colby’s number flashing up.
“Hello,” I answered, trying not to sound too anxious.
“Hey, it’s me.”
I closed my eyes, having missed the sound of his voice. “I take it you got my rambling message?”
“Yeah, I sure did.” There was humor in his voice.
“So are we okay for the baptism the day after tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course. I obviously wouldn’t miss it, but I don’t want you to, either. As you said, we were friends before.”
The sex. That’s how that sentence ended in my mind, as well as in my voicemail. “Yes, we were.”
“How, uh, were things with your mother?”
“As expected. At least I figured out why she was adamant to have me move home.”
“Why’s that?”
“She and my father are getting divorced.”
“Holy shit. Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, for the most part. Got a little drunk last night—”
“With who?”
No matter how much I was tempted to say it’s none of your business, I couldn’t be that way. Not with him. “My dad. We drank scotch, which is disgusting by the way.”
He chuckled. “Agreed. It is disgusting.”
My chest was back to hurting. “I should go. I’m glad we, uh, talked, and we’re okay for Sunday. Guess I’
ll see you then.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll definitely see you Sunday.”
After hanging up, I wondered if I should’ve kept the conversation going to show him what he was missing. But then I realized it was actually therapeutic to set the limit I needed in order to cope with not being with him.
***
The sound of a siren getting louder by the second woke me up from my nap. Peeking out the window, I could only see out the rear of the house and not the road, but it sounded really close. Mrs. Singer came in a couple minutes later. “Honey, there’s an ambulance at your house. Come on.”
I jumped out of bed, slipped on my shoes and flew down the stairs. Not waiting for her to pull the car out, I took off in a dead run, cutting through our back yards to my house. The blood drained from my face when I saw my mother standing outside on the porch while the ambulance drove away.
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure. Your dad was in the kitchen and clutched his chest. He kept insisting that he would be fine, but I called 911 anyways. He was angry enough that he wouldn’t let me ride with him.”
When Mrs. Singer’s vehicle pulled in, she offered to drive. I took my mom’s hand. “Come on, let’s get to the hospital.”
***
After finding out that my father had sustained a mild heart attack and was in need of a procedure where they inserted a stent into a blockage they’d found, we waited for hours at the hospital. During that time, thankfully, both Brian and Sasha had flown in and were welcome company as we all tried to keep positive thoughts.
We stood as soon as the doctor came out.
“We’ve finished with the procedure, and he’s in recovery. Once they get him settled in his room, the nurse will take you up there.”
After thirty minutes we were able to see him. He looked weak, but managed a smile. Tears ran down my face while I embraced him, but the most surprising thing was seeing them in my mother’s eyes.
She took his hand and sat beside him. “I’d like to stay the night if that’s okay.”
Bet Me Something (Something Series Book 3) Page 30