by Lindsey Iler
My back hits the sofa and I sigh in relief.
“Want to talk about it?” Jackie asks, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. Her jean-clad legs cross in front of her as she patiently waits for me.
I pick at my fingernails in an obvious way to distract myself from the question. Do I want to talk about it? No. Should I? Yeah, probably.
“Kennedy, I know what happened at the studio. Your mom called shortly after to inform me. I wish it would have been you to tell me, but I understand why you didn’t,” Jackie insists. “Now, do you want to talk about what set you off?”
“A little bit of everything, a lot of everything.” My hands push down into the material of the couch and I push myself toward her. “What do you want from me?” I snap, my voice on high alert. Defense is a weapon I’ve learned to use.
“The truth. I want the truth. I’m here to push you and guide you so that you can make it to a safe place when you feel these emotions boil up.” Jackie sets her paper on the table in front of her. “Now, let’s start where we left off last.”
“Mark?” I question.
“Yes, how are things going?” she asks.
“We went on spring break together.” I fidget in my seat, uneasy about the direction this conversation is headed.
“And?” Jackie encourages me to continue.
“And it was nice. We had fun.” I shrug my shoulders and shake my head.
“Anything significant happen?” Jackie’s pen bounces on her knee in rhythmic motions.
Standing from the couch, I circle around until I can look out the window. My eyes cast over the small garden running the entire length of the building. Bright flowers adorn almost every inch of the space, but I don’t really see them as I let my mind wander back to Mexico. I remember the way the flowers around the resort smelled and how the wind blew through the sliding door of the hotel room.
“Graham paraded a pretty girl around for a few days, then managed to bring Amanda and me together.”
“What about you and Mark?”
“Things started out fantastic, but one of the last nights we were there, he freaked out on me. I ended up storming out of our room and spent the night in Dan and Violet’s room. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe we should discuss the girl Graham paraded around, then,” Jackie offers through pursed lips.
With a slight roll, my eyes tell it all. “I know what you are doing, and I’m not falling for it.”
She smiles with satisfaction. “Okay, fair enough. Let’s fast forward to the dance studio. Tell me about that day, then.”
I retell the day as best as I can remember it. Most of the details are vague and blurred in my mind. That speaks volumes and Jackie reiterates the thought to me. I know what everyone thinks when they see me. I’m the girl who was attacked last year and then couldn’t keep it together long enough to get out of town.
“Is that really what you think?” Jackie sneers with disgust. Her tone forces me to look up. Her eyes are pained as she pinches the bridge of her nose, and I shrug in answer. “Kennedy, if anyone looks at you that way, then they are fucking mad. Most people wouldn’t have been able to lift themselves off the floor, and here you are, not only asking for help but accepting it with open arms.”
“When Craig attacked me, I remember wanting to give up. I even think that maybe I stopped fighting because I didn’t see the point.” My head shakes at the memory. “He won, right?” I frantically wipe the tears that fall.
“He didn’t win, Kennedy,” Jackie insists. “Is that what set you off in the studio?”
I recall that night on the cement slab, hidden behind the tractor. “That day, I was ripped open and left bare. I was alone and I'm still alone. So what if I broke a few lamps and smashed a few mirrors. I've earned my anger, and it’s come with a price,” I cry out. “That day in the studio was a chaotic mixture of last year and the changes in my life this year.”
“What changes? Your mom told me you got into Columbia,” Jackie says with pride as if I’m her own daughter.
“And Georgia,” I mutter under my breath.
“Georgia? I wasn’t aware you applied.”
“Well, I did and I got in.” My lips flat line as I look to her for the reassurance that I’m not losing my mind.
“Isn’t that the University Graham will be attending, Kennedy?”
I don’t bother to answer her question because she knows the answer. “Seeing the letter only reminded me of everything that’s been taken away, and then Craig got arrested and I felt free again. It was too much all at once.”
I turn away from her and stare out at the blue sky. To stop myself from saying any more, I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Everything seems to remind you of what you and Graham lost. Dance was stolen from you because of the accident. Then Craig’s attack solidified your loss of Graham. Then this year, it’s all come full circle. You still feel the loss of your relationship through these major events because he’s not there to experience them with you,” Jackie explains. “What you don’t know yet, Kennedy, is all of these things are going to make you stronger, and maybe Graham and you aren’t meant to be together. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be your forever. And that’s okay because you’re only eighteen and have plenty more life to live.”
“But what if he was?” I fight back. I’m not even sure why I’m arguing about a non-existent relationship between Graham and me.
“Then he will be. You never know where life will take you, Kennedy, but you need to learn to stand on your own. No man, no one, in general, for that matter, will be able to make you strong. You have to do that on your own, and I’d say you’ve done a pretty damn good job so far. With college around the corner, I’d love for you to feel confident in your ability to handle life on your own without trepidation.”
“You’re saying I’m co-dependent,” I state flatly.
“No, I’m not saying that at all. What I’m saying is, there is nothing wrong with leaning on others for support, just as long as all your weight isn’t on them.” Jackie smiles keenly.
I let her words soak in. Each vase, picture frame, and knick-knack scattered around her office grabs my attention.
“I think I have to go,” I blurt and rush to the door.
Jackie follows me out and wraps me in a hug. “Don’t do anything hasty. Let your heart lead you and your mind guide you, Kennedy. You’re a smart girl. You’ll get where you’re meant to be, even if the road’s rough, okay?”
“Thank you, Jackie, for everything,” I smile up to where she stands above me.
“I’m just a phone call away. I’ll even accept the long distance phone bill come next year.” Her smirk widens as I walk backward to the car.
Aimlessly, I drive for hours with no human interaction except a phone call to tell my dad I have some things to take care of before I head home. With no questions asked, he wishes me well and instructs me to be careful.
As the sun sets, I have a better idea of what’s going on in my head, and I drive to his house. My heart beats hard against my chest when I pull into the long driveway. The lights lining the sides of the gravel drive illuminate my path, and when I park in my usual spot, I spot Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore swinging on the porch. Small, slow steps carry me up the stairs.
“Hey Kennedy, we weren’t expecting you tonight,” Mrs. Whitmore says graciously. “Everything okay?”
How am I supposed to answer that question?
“Is Mark inside?” I whisper, wringing my hands together in front of me.
“Of course he is, sweetheart. Are you okay, though?” Mr. Whitmore stands from the swing.
My head shakes and tears well up in my eyes. “You guys have welcomed me into your home, and I can’t thank you enough. This past year, I’ve had a hard time.”
“Baby girl, you don’t need to say one more thing.” Mrs. Whitmore nods in understanding. Her eyes tell me she knows why I’m here. I force a smile and enter through the front door of their two-story hom
e.
With a deep breath through my nose, I release the air through my mouth to calm my nerves. Mark’s in the basement watching a baseball game. At my entrance, he turns his entire body to where I stand. My shoulder leans against the door frame.
“Hey,” Mark says. “What are you doing here?” His eyebrows scrunch together as he takes me in.
My eyes betray me as the tears roll down my cheeks and onto my neck. Mark hurdles the back of the couch and crouches in front of me in a matter of seconds. His eyes inspect every inch of me to make sure I haven’t been harmed. I shake my head to dissuade him.
“I’m not hurt, Mark.” I close my eyes.
“Then what’s with the tears?” His fingertips skim the bottom of my eyes, trying to dry the tears that are quickly replaced with new ones. From the contact, I open them to see his worried brow.
“Can we sit down?” I grab his hand and drag him to the couch. “We need to talk,” I say as he watches me.
“What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“I think we both can agree things have been strained between us,” I begin to explain.
“It’s been difficult. I’ve heard things, and I have eyes, so I’ve seen things.” Mark leans forward, resting his elbow on the cushion.
I pick at my nails and then look up at him. “What have you heard and seen?” My voice is weak and filled with uncertainty.
“I saw the way you looked at Graham at Coach’s house. I saw the distant look in your eyes when you were laying on the dance studio floor. I should’ve been able to calm you down, but I couldn’t. Then he swooped in and I watched from behind the glass as you relaxed into him. You melted right into his body.” Mark’s eyes darken as he speaks.
I glance down at his balled up fists, but don’t have time to respond before he starts again.
“I’ve heard rumors about the night at the studio. You and I both know I don’t hold much stock in storytelling, but something tells me this isn’t a false story that’s been floating around school,” Mark rambles. “Did you apply to Georgia?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“When?” Mark questions, but I stay silent. “Kennedy, when did you apply to Georgia?” Mark’s voice is harsh and punishing.
“December.” I look down, ashamed to even admit the timeline.
“So, you applied to the university your ex-boyfriend has every intention of attending, without consulting your new boyfriend who has been, mind you, planning to go to New York just to be with you.”
“Mark...” I reach for his hand, but he whips it away from me.
“No, you don’t get to hold my hand and try to comfort me. I’ve said before that I understand the risk of opening my heart to you. I know who waits in the shadows. I understand that I’m the second choice.”
“You aren’t second choice!” I shout, burying my hands in my hair, not believing my own words.
“If Graham would’ve fought for you back then, where would it leave us?” Mark barks.
“That’s not fair, and you know it.” I rub at the corner of my eyes.
“No, what’s not fair is making me believe you could ever let go of him long enough to love me back.” Mark stands from the couch and glares down at me.
“I never made you any promises, Mark.”
“You didn’t have to,” Mark whispers.
When he refuses to look at me, I stand up and walk to the basement steps. I turn back again, wishing he’ll twist in my direction and give me a small sliver of hope that I haven’t destroyed him.
“Mark,” I mutter through the tears of what I’ve lost. “You don’t have to understand it, and you sure as hell don’t have to like it, but I do expect you to respect it. I never sought to hurt you, ever, but I can’t lean on you for everything. I jumped from Graham to you, and you taught me how to trust again. Because of that, I’ll always love you.” I step onto the stairs.
“Just not in the way that I love you,” Mark adds. His eyes turn to me as I hit the fourth step.
“Someday this will all make sense, and when it does, I hope we can be friends.” I dry the unstoppable tears.
“I don’t think I can be your friend,” Mark barks.
His admission squeezes my heart. “That’s a shame because you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” I run through the house as fast as I can and burst out into the night to pull fresh air into my lungs. My legs carry me to my car in a numb race.
“Kennedy,” Mark shouts as I frantically try to get my keys in the door. “It’s okay,” he whispers in my back as his arms wrap around my shoulders.
I lean into him, and just as quick as he came, he’s gone, and I’m alone in the middle of his driveway.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Graham
A sense of déjà vu strikes me as I wait for her to enter the stage. I’ll never be fully prepared to watch her dance because nothing in this world compares to her when her body turns into a machine right in front of me.
I’m surrounded by my best friends, and even as I hear my name called, my eyes stay locked on the stage. The lights dim until the room is shrouded in darkness.
Kacey leans over the back of my seat and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “Breathe, Graham,” she whispers.
I turn my head to see her sweet, innocent smile flash back at me. I pat her arm and return my stare to the stage.
Kennedy’s lean body struts out with false confidence. Her shoulders slump. Her fear radiates throughout the large auditorium. I lean forward in my seat. The lights fade in, and her eyes scan through the sea of people waiting to watch her.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” I whisper, hoping she’ll feel my encouragement.
Her eyes land on mine and I smile. Music infiltrates the sound system and Kennedy’s body leaps across the stage. As though the lyrics are written just for her in this life, the words remind all of us that Kennedy is okay, even when she breaks down in front of us. Her legs carry her across the stage, and her calves tighten as she comes up to the tips of her toes. The verses sing out her strength, and I watch in awe of how far she has come.
Her body stills as the music fades. She looks out into the crowd of people who support and encourage her and we stand and applaud the distance she’s come. Happy tears, perhaps tears of relief, stream down her cheeks and drip to the wood floor when she takes her bow. As she rises, her hair flips over her head and flows down her shoulders. A small smile creeps onto her cheeks as she takes in our praise before running off the stage.
“Why isn’t Mark here?” I ask Violet as we join the line to leave the auditorium.
Violet’s eyes shift back and forth, up and down, without landing on mine.
“What are you guys hiding?” I snap, looking to Dan and Kacey for some sort of explanation.
“This is stupid. He’s going to find out eventually,” Kacey states as her eyes ask for permission. Violet’s lips flatten in a hard line.
“Mark and Kennedy broke up,” Dan recites like it’s a grocery list. His arm wraps around Violet’s shoulders and he pulls her in close.
“When?” I ask in a forced, stoic voice. What’s within my chest tells a different story as my heart beats frantically.
“A week and a half, maybe,” Violet offers with a sad smile. “But, Graham, don’t you dare take this as an invitation to disrupt her life. She’s figuring things out, and she doesn’t need you to destroy all the works she’s put in to be whole again.”
My eyebrows scrunch together. “Ouch.” I walk away from the three of them.
“Graham, I didn’t mean...” Violet calls.
I spin around to face them. “I know what you meant, Vi. Everyone’s made it pretty damn clear how they feel about me and her.” I push my way through the crowd and storm through the auditorium doors.
The further I walk, the more the blood in my veins boil. When I’m outside in the fresh, night air, my lungs fill with oxygen. I pace the perimeter of the h
igh school twice, hiding in the shadows of the overhangs. I’m in no mood to talk to anyone or explain myself when I can’t even understand it.
The news of Mark and Kennedy turns me inside out. My emotions are all over the place, trying to understand the role I play in this story. Then, it dawns on me. I don’t play any part in this particular chapter. Mark and Kennedy’s relationship has nothing to do with me. She and I are a separate thing, altogether.
I sit on the large rock outside the side entrance. My eyes drift to the sky.
“Daydreaming out here?” a soft voice breaks my stare at the Little Dipper. I turn to the sound and my sanctuary is brightened by light from inside the high school.
“Kennedy,” I whisper her name like a prayer, then turn back to the sky.
“In the flesh.” She takes a seat beside me.
I scoot over to give her room. Our knees bump, and I roll my eyes at my body’s reaction from the simple touch from her.
My head discreetly shifts to the side. Kennedy doesn’t notice, or at least she doesn’t put on as if she does. I’ve spent this whole year avoiding and dodging her between the small moments where we indulged ourselves with each other. Simply because I’m afraid of what it could mean if I stop long enough to see her. If I stop long enough to let her see me, the real me, the one she begged for in the hospital room, then maybe we wouldn’t be out here on this rock.
“You were amazing up there,” I whisper into the darkness and hear her scoff. “Kennedy, you were. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Silence fills the space between us.
Kennedy sniffles and I twist off the rock and track her tears as they fall.
“This has been the hardest year of my life,” Kennedy states. She rests her elbows on her knees, and when she looks up at me, the sadness in her eyes tears my heart to shreds.
“We have plenty more years in our future to blow this one out of the water, Kennedy.”