Kismet

by AE Woodward

  “Please, Katie,” he begs, “we need you too. We need to start healing with you.” He leans forward and throws his head into his hands. “I need you to help me through this, Katie.” I watch helplessly as his shoulders shudder and I know without a doubt that this is his breaking point. He’s put up a strong front for long enough, but he is hurting too. He loved Zoe more than anything else in the world, maybe even more than himself, which is saying a lot because Tommy Garvin thought a lot of himself.

  But not when it came to Zoe. Once I had her, his protectiveness shifted from me to her. He loved her like I did—unconditionally. He made the trek to see her every month, without fail. He’d show up first thing in the morning and take the two of us out to breakfast, before spending the rest of the day doing something special with just her. Watching him sob, I know that Tommy is broken up over this, and it kills me that I can’t do anything for him.

  Without thinking, I place my hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me, tears spilling over the brim of his eyes. “I can’t believe she’s gone. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

  He’s right, it isn’t fair. It doesn’t make sense and I blame myself for it everyday. I sniff back the tears that sting my eyes and nod. Tommy wraps his arms around me, and his face presses into my neck. I sit with my hands pressed to my side for a moment, my fingers still clutching the neck of the Crown bottle tightly. His hot tears slide down my neck and I feel my wall crumbling, a little bit at a time. I want to stay strong and emotionally dead, but I just can’t. It’s Tommy. My Tommy. One of the few people I can count on, and knowing that he needs me just as much as I need him brings something within me to life.

  I drop the bottle, listening as it crashes against the ground at my feet. The liquid gurgles as it spills out onto the ground, but none of that matters as I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck. Our embrace awakens the emotions that we are both trying to control, and a sob escapes from Tommy’s throat. I let free the tears that I have been holding back, and they start to fall faster.

  There, on that old rock by the stream, Tommy and I find comfort in each other without saying a word. Just like we have so many times before.

  “Want to go fishing with us, kid?” Parker looks back at me sitting sullenly on the front porch and my twelve-year-old heart nearly leaps from my chest. Parker McKenzie is asking me to go fishing with them! I jump up from the steps and nod my head so hard I swear I can hear my brain knocking around.

  He smiles.

  My heart melts.

  “Aw, Parker,” Tommy argues.

  My eyes lock on Parker and I eagerly nod my head.

  “I’ll make sure she gets her hooks all set and her lines cast,” Parker promises.

  I swoon. Looking up at him, I know my eyes are glossy with puppy-dog love. His short brown hair is perfectly messy and I know right now that I love Parker McKenzie. And I probably always will.

  “Go grab your rod from the barn,” Tommy orders, his patience clearly wearing thin.

  I take off running before either of them can change their mind.

  I wake with a start. Of all the things to dream about, and I’m dreaming about him. God damn Parker McKenzie.

  Feeling the guilt settle deep within the pit of my stomach, I get up from bed and wander towards the window. I look out at the glistening grass. It’s slightly damp from the previous night’s chill. The sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon warming the lush green fields. The yard is empty, the horses still inside the stable, most likely still eating in their stalls. The chickens have already been let out of their coop and have started wandering the yard.

  Early dawn had been my favorite time of day here, and it most definitely still is. Growing up, my early mornings had been filled with chores and I loved being able to work in silence. It gave me something to focus on while being alone at the same time. Without another second passing me by, I move hastily to my closet and pull out some of my grubby old clothes—the same ones that Mom dug out of my high school tote. They’re really the only things I want to wear anyway, all of my nicer things remind me of them.

  I pull on my Hunter boots and walk quietly downstairs, careful not to make too much noise. I like being unnoticed, flying under the radar allows me to be alone. I hear my parents talking in hushed voices from the kitchen, drinking their morning coffee I’m sure. But instead of going in to them, I sneak past the doorway and slip outside.

  I want to be alone.

  I like being alone.

  In fact, I’m getting really good at it again. Being alone with nothing but my own thoughts is peaceful most of the time, as long as I can keep the memories at bay. I don’t need anyone talking at me, I just want some peace and quiet. Quiet is good.

  Outside, the chickens scatter as I walk past them. Looking around as though I’m doing something I shouldn’t, I slip into the horse stables. Our stable is just as gorgeous as I remember it. The crisp wooden accents are like something out of a magazine. It’s quiet beyond belief, the only sounds coming from the horses still in their individual stalls, peacefully munching on their oats.

  Walking slowly, I carefully look over each one, all of them beautiful in their own way, just like people.

  I stop when I finally find her.

  Onyx.

  Her mane has been braided since I saw her last, and I know Mom must have done it because I’ve never seen Tommy or Pop do a braid. Her black coat glistens in the soft morning light and she stops eating to look up at me, swaying back and forth uneasily. I want to speak to her, to reassure her that I’m her friend, but I can’t. In fact, I don’t even remember what it’s like to use my voice. Palm outward, I reach my hand out, urging her forward. Touch seems to be the only way I feel comfortable communicating with her, or anyone else for that matter. She responds and lifts her muzzle to meet my hand. I instinctively rub her softly and she snorts in approval.

  “She sure is a beaut.”

  The sound of his voice makes me jump and I pull my hand back, like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar. I turn to see Parker two stalls down, his eyes burning my skin. The sound of footsteps echo through the air as he walks toward me, and my heart skips a beat. I curse my body for responding. Every instinct within me tells me to run away, but he’s in front of the exit and I would have to push past him to get out. Parker makes me so uncomfortable, and it’s like I don’t trust myself around him. I need to get away, but I also don’t need to make things any more embarrassing than they already are.

  He stops a few feet from me, and although it’s far enough that I should feel okay, somehow it’s still too close for comfort. The heat in my body makes its way to my face, surely flushing every inch of my skin. “You want to ride her?” he asks.

  What’s with the questions? They do nothing but irritate the shit out of me. Everyone knows I’m not going to answer them, so what’s the point? My eyes make contact with his, and he looks perplexed for a moment before he moves a little closer.

  “It’s great to see you out and about, Katie.”

  Another step closer.

  I take a step back and he stops, realizing he’s making me uncomfortable again. He always was good at that.

  “Sorry.” He breaks eye contact and runs his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. I remember watching him do that as a kid—it had been one of his many endearing qualities at the time. Noticing I’m appreciating Parker and his qualities again, I shake the memories from my head.

  “I’m trying, Katie. I’m just so sorry for everything. Nobody should have to go through what you are.”

  My heart breaks a little more, if that’s even possible, because hearing him say those words, I know he means it. Parker doesn’t just say things. He’s always truthful. Yet another endearing, and at times infuriating, Parker quality. You always know where you stand with him, and he surely doesn’t mince his words.

  I learned that the hard way.

  Not wanting to give him anything, I turn my attention back to Onyx, attempting to focus on som
ething besides him and how I’m feeling in this moment because I’m not exactly sure what I feel. Instead of trying to process, I push all thoughts from my head and put my hands on Onyx’s smooth coat again. I just want him to leave already. Parker is being nice, but he has no idea what I have been through. Nobody does, and nobody will.

  “You were always like a sister to me, Katie.”

  I cringe hearing those all too familiar words. They were the same words that pushed me to move to the city when I was eighteen. It doesn’t seem possible that that was only seven years ago. It seems like a different life, a different time, definitely a different girl. So much has changed since that day.

  My stomach turns when I think of all the things that have taken place since then. All the things that happened just because I left this small town, trying to escape the sadness. Looking over my shoulder, I glare at him, hoping that he’ll get the hint that I just want to be left alone.

  “I hate to see you hurting,” he continues, taking yet another step toward me, obviously missing my cues. “Please, Katie. You’ve got to know that I’m here for you.” He pauses, as if contemplating his next move, and I freeze, unsure of what to do myself. He’s so close that I could reach out and touch him, but I can’t… and I won’t. Seemingly sensing the tension, he sighs. “Now, let’s get that horse out in the yard for some work with you.” He pushes past me. When his elbow touches mine, I flinch at the contact of his skin. Opening Onyx’s stall, he coos, “Hey there, pretty girl,” before grabbing her halter and leading her past me.

  I want to argue with him, to tell him no, but deep down I know that she deserves a full rehabilitation. In all honesty, she probably deserves better than what I can give her. But for some reason, I want to work her. I want to get back with the horses. Maybe Tommy is right—maybe it would be good for me. It would certainly give me something to look forward to. Perhaps Onyx and I will be good for each other.

  I don’t stop Parker. Instead, I listen to him talk to her while he expertly tinkers with her gear. He’s just as good with his hands as I remember.

  “You want a saddle on her?”

  I shake my head. It’s too soon to ride her, she just needs to be walked and start developing a connection with someone. She needs more confidence. More trust. I laugh inside when I realize she sounds familiar. It seems a little strange that I can identify with this horse more than I can any human right now, but I brush the thought aside and instinctively grab a lead rope from the wall.

  Parker shoots a devilish grin at me and I’m confused for a split second before I realize that I had responded. I’d communicated with Parker. Anger rises within me and I want nothing more than to slap the smug grin off his face, but I’m frozen. The stupid grin still on his face, he leads her back toward me and hands over her bridle. “You two have a lot of work to do. Have fun.”

  I watch him walk out of the stable, gloating to himself I’m sure. Parker always thought quite highly of himself, but who hadn’t? He always had it easy, never had to work that hard at anything. He was God’s gift to everything. I still for a moment, attempting to get my emotions in check. Nervous as hell, I silently beg Oynx to be on her best behavior. I’m out of practice and hope that it’s like riding a bike.

  Still slightly pissed, I curse to myself as I lead Onyx out into the yard. Freakin’ Parker McKenzie.

  I stall and I consider turning back once we hit the grass and I see my whole family have moved their coffee break onto the porch. The sun has come up fully, and Parker is talking happily to Tommy, probably gloating about the fact that he managed to get a response from me.

  About to throw in the towel, I see Mom smile. That smile, the one that I haven’t seen in the longest time, is what changes my mind. There’s hope in her eyes, and I know that I can do this. Working with Onyx isn’t about me, it’s about the horse. And it certainly isn’t going to hurt anything.

  Like two halves of a whole, I fall into an easy rhythm with Onyx, and I let her take the lead as I guide her around the yard, completely losing track of time as I work.

  Well, almost completely. I do notice Parker leave for the shop. After a short while, Mom and Dad head on about their business for the day. Tommy stays the longest but eventually he leaves too, heading into the other barn, presumably to milk the cows.

  I’m petting Onyx, rewarding her for walking on her lead so well, when I notice a car pulling up our long dirt driveway. Not many people drive down this way and so I stop near the entrance of the stable, waiting to see who it is. Whoever it is has a mighty nice car. The silver BMW finally pulls to a stop behind Tommy’s truck, and I groan when I see the man finally emerge from the car.

  Stevenson.

  I’d forgotten it was a session day. I dreaded them because all he does is talk at me, and tries to reassure me that what I’m feeling is completely normal.

  Yeah, like he would know.

  I don’t care that he has a Ph.D., or that he knows the steps in the grieving process, just because someone is an expert on something doesn’t mean that they know it all when it comes to that subject. No one could ever understand what I’m going through unless they have been through it themselves, and I highly doubt Stevenson has lost his whole world.

  He waves when he sees me. I roll my eyes without waving back, turning to go get Onyx settled in her stall. I’ve been having a good day, but knowing I have to do “work” pisses me off to no end. I take my time and hope rises in me when he doesn’t make his presence known in the stable. He usually follows me around, no matter what I’m doing. One day, he actually conducted our session while I walked through the fields. He was relentless.

  Maybe he’s just here to check on things. Maybe there won’t be a session after all. I quickly brush out Onyx’s coat and slip her back into the stall. She brays with approval. Walking out of the barn, I can’t help but feel accomplished. It feels nice to take care of someone again. My mind has been busy, and I haven’t thought about things.

  “Gorgeous horse.”

  For the second time in as many hours, I nearly jump out of my skin. What is it with people scaring me? Do they enjoy lurking? I turn to see Stevenson leaning up against the doorway of the stable. He’s more handsome than I remember, at least for an older guy. I usually find myself wondering about him, and his family, while I pretend to be uninterested during our sessions.

  “I’m glad to see that you’re out of the house, Katie. Shall we go inside and get started?” He motions toward the house with his left hand. My high hopes come crashing down. Obviously there will be a session today. So much for that idea.

  Without any sort of acknowledgement, I turn towards the house and walk inside, the good doctor following closely behind.

  When we enter the foyer, Stevenson exchanges some pleasantries with my mother, who has just returned from town, and I become increasingly annoyed with each minute that passes by. I just want to sit down and listen to him talk so that he can leave already. I leave them to their pointless chatter and head to the home office to sit down and wait.

  I hear Stevenson say he should “get to it” before he appears in the doorway. He has a briefcase in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other. Juggling the two as he crosses the room, he blows gently on the steam coming from the mug I know my mom just handed him. “So your mother says you’re making some progress,” he says as he sits in the chair next to mine. “Or at least, it seems that way to her.”

  Mom is always full of hope. An optimist through and through, it wouldn’t take much for her to think I was making headway with the nightmare called my life. It may sound strange, but I’ve started to hope that I’ll wake up and it will all be over. But maybe that’s a good sign? At least I’m starting to believe in something again.

  “So you’re gearing up to close out your first month of being back here.” He pulls out his yellow legal pad from his briefcase. “Things must seem familiar for you.”

  I laugh to myself. He has no idea how familiar things seem. Too familiar for my likin
g, but what choice do I have really. Nobody had thought me fit to be alone and I had agreed with them—I was a head case, and that was putting it lightly.

  “It’s really gorgeous out here. You must have had a fantastic childhood growing up on this farm.”

  Looking back, I did. I lived outdoors. My brother and I were always on an adventure somewhere on the acreage. Sure, we had our fair share of chores to ensure that the farm ran smoothly, but we played just as hard. I only had one bad memory growing up here, and that was becoming more of a thorn in my side than I’d planned on. The fact of the matter is that I left for a good reason.

  “So,” Stevenson continues, “the horse. You like to ride? Working with the horses?” He pauses hoping that I might contribute something to our conversation. “I bet you’re excellent at it.”

  I let out an annoyed sigh. I suddenly want to go take a nap.

  Stevenson echoes my frustration. “I know you don’t want me to be here, I can tell that much, I’m not stupid. But I’ve got to try to help you, Katie. People care. I care. I want to understand you, and help you learn to cope. This doesn’t have to be your defining moment. This isn’t a life-ender. You can grow from this, move on from the hurt. Pull yourself to a version of your former self, and be somebody you can be proud of. We all just want to help you help yourself.”

  Not wanting to acknowledge his words, the fields outside becomes very interesting and I look out of the office window. He doesn’t have a clue. He thinks he understands but he doesn’t. I don’t deserve a second chance. I don’t deserve to be able to move on. I’m getting exactly what I was supposed to. This is my kismet.

  “The quicker you give me just a little bit to work with, the quicker I will be out of your hair,” he smiles. “That way we both win, in our own way.”