Kismet

by AE Woodward

  I roll my eyes. Okay, maybe I’m digging my heels in about this a little more than I should. I want to have things my way, but I’ve obviously met my match. He smiles smugly, like he’s reading my mind and knows that he’s slowly breaking me down.

  “So, the horse riding,” he starts. “You think that might be good for you?”

  I take a deep breath and redirect my gaze. His eyes are hopeful. Screw it. A little interaction won’t kill me.

  I lift my left hand and give him a thumbs up, and he immediately smiles, reveling in my communication, albeit non-verbal. “All right. I’d love to watch you ride sometime.”

  Over the next hour I listen to Stevenson talk, occasionally responding with a thumbs up or down, depending on how I feel about what he has to say. The majority of the time it’s a thumbs down.

  He urges me to reconnect with some of my friends from the city. Big thumbs down. That won’t be happening solely because my family doesn’t know how to get in contact with them, and hell will freeze over before I pick up a phone and call them. Besides, I know it would be too painful. Most of them have families of their own and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be around happy families without hurting. He tells me to really rely on the people who surround me daily, for they are the ones who will be my greatest support.

  “Have you gone to see them yet?” he asks.

  I can’t believe he’s gone there… again. I thought my panic attack last time made it pretty clear that I wasn’t ready to cross that bridge yet.

  I stop breathing. Just the thought of it is too much. My heart aches, and my stomach churns with nervousness. Thumbs down immediately, although I briefly consider giving him the middle one instead, but my anger is cloaked with sadness, and I can’t find the strength to be mean.

  “You should go, Katie. Sooner rather than later. It’s important for you to say good-bye. You already missed an opportunity to say good-bye with the support of all your family surrounding you when you missed their funeral. Now you need to do it alone.”

  Tears stream down my face. I hate thinking of them like that. Cold. Dead. In the ground. Tears continue down my cheeks, and I shake my head. I feel myself approaching the edge. He needs to stop before I lose it, again. I hope that my tears will make him feel bad for me—that they’ll serve a function besides just being a release of pain. But he continues to push me. This must be the “work” he spoke of.

  “You need to go to those graves, Katie. You need to say good-bye to Michael. And Zoe.” Their names cut through me, the pressure in my chest returning in an instant. “And that sweet baby boy.”

  I hear myself gasp. Anger rips through me and before I know it my hand reaches out and strikes him across his face. He looks shocked and perplexed. He obviously wasn’t expecting that. What he was looking for, I’m not so sure myself. Realization spreads across his face.

  “You didn’t know. Did you?”

  It’s all too much, and I throw my head into my hands, sliding down off the couch and crumpling into a heap. My shoulders jerk with each sob, and I can feel my insides being kicked around by remorse. The sweet innocent baby that I had been carrying had been a boy.

  During the pregnancy I had loved not knowing the gender of the baby. There were only a few true surprises left in life, and that was one that I wanted to experience.

  A boy.

  It would have been everything Michael wanted, but more than he bargained for at the same time. He hadn’t wanted more than one child—as an only child himself he hadn’t seen the need for siblings. But I insisted. I wanted to give him a boy. Someone to carry on his name. And ultimately I got my way. But I hadn’t won. This was my punishment for being so greedy. I pushed for more and instead ended up with nothing.

  I feel Stevenson gently place his hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Katie. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have said that otherwise. But regardless, you owe it to them to say good-bye. What do you think?”

  I’m wary now he’s broken me down. So many emotions. Too much to handle. With my head still in my lap and tears still streaming down my face, I give a half-hearted thumbs up.

  “Is there someone that you feel comfortable taking with you?”

  He’s not going to give me a chance to back out of this. He obviously wants me to go now, while my guard is still down.

  Without so much as a second thought, I give him another thumbs up. I need someone who knows me. Someone who understands the person I am… well, the person I was. But deep down I know that it can’t be somebody too close. I don’t need my family pawing me, talking to me while I’m trying to say good-bye. I need someone who will understand what I need. And there’s only one person I know that fits all of the above.

  “Great, Katie. That’s great,” he says excitedly as he rises from the chair. “I knew you could do this. You want me to go get your mother?” Obviously he would think she would be who I wanted to take me to their graves. But it’s not.

  I shake my head. No, not my mother. I grab a piece of paper and pen from the desk and scratch one word across it.

  Parker.

  I sit on the hallway floor listening to Stevenson speak to my mother. Despite trying to keep their voices low, I still manage to hear what they say. I’m surprised by how well I seem to be taking the whole thing. Knowing what I’ve agreed to do, I figured I’d be having a major meltdown. But I feel nothing. It crosses my mind that I’ve been trying to shut my emotions off for so long that I might have actually succeeded in completely shutting down, and I may never truly be able to feel again.

  “She’s agreed to go visit the graves,” he whispers.

  I suspect that they realize I’m listening.

  “Well, great!” My mother is excited. “I’ll get ready to go.” I imagine her dropping her cleaning and heading for her pocketbook.

  “Well, that’s not what I need from you Mrs. Garvin. She’s requested that someone else take her.”

  “Well, Tommy’s working,” mother interrupts.

  My poor mother has no idea of the bombshell that is about to be dropped. I don’t want any of them to be the ones. “No, not Tommy, Mrs. Garvin, and I’m hoping you can help me with her request. Can you tell me who Parker is?” Stevenson questions.

  The scraping of wood on tile lets me know Mom has pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. I imagine that she’s confused by my request. “Parker? He’s Tommy’s best friend. He’s like a brother to Katie. Tommy and Parker were always so good to her, making sure that she was always looked out for, even after her quiet time.” I hear her exasperated sigh. “But why Parker? Why would she want him to be the one to take her?”

  “I had been hoping that you could give me some insight on that, but you’re obviously as dumbfounded by this as I am.” Stevenson pauses, seemingly trying to piece things together. “I’m going to venture a guess here, but I think Katie just wants someone that she’s comfortable being around to take her. And perhaps someone who won’t put pressure on her?”

  It annoys me how good Stevenson is at figuring me out, especially since I’ve never actually said a word to him. He’s hit the nail on the head. Parker was someone I felt at ease with, but I knew he’d let me control the situation. He was great in that respect. Parker didn’t care about a whole lot. I knew that from first-hand experience.

  I expect Mom to start arguing, saying that she won’t pressure me, that she can be that person for me, but she doesn’t.

  “All right,” she sighs, “I’ll call Parker.”

  In the twenty minutes that has passed since my Mom called Parker, the kitchen has become a hub of excitement and confusion. I’m still sitting on the hallway floor. In all the confusion I think I’ve been forgotten. But that’s fine, because I’m really good with being alone. It’s soothing for me to be lonely. That, and listening to all the conversation gives me something else to focus on besides myself. Tommy and Pop eventually join Mom and Stevenson in the kitchen, waiting for Parker. Each of them throw their two cents
in as to how this should go down. Tommy insists that he should go with us, saying that Parker can’t handle the responsibility. I appreciate that he’s still trying to look out for my best interests, but the fact of the matter is that Tommy doesn’t know the half of what I need.

  He goes round with Mom and Pop, but Stevenson stops him. “We need to follow her lead, Tommy.”

  “I just don’t think her going there with him is the best option right now!” Tommy yells.

  “Now, I respect your concern, Tommy, and we all appreciate that you want the best for your sister. However, if Katie wants to go alone with Parker then that is what we give her. She needs to be in control of her own recovery. We need to remember that this isn’t about us. She’s an adult, she can make her own choices.”

  Tommy lets out a sarcastic laugh just before I hear the screen door fling open, the springs creaking in response, and then quickly slamming shut. “What the hell is going on?” Parker asks anxiously.

  Quickly, Stevenson fills Parker in on my request. He adds that Parker shouldn’t feel pressured, especially if he’s not comfortable with the situation, but that he needs to understand how huge this could be for my treatment.

  “Why me?” he questions.

  “I dunno, Parker,” Tommy barks. “Why you?”

  There’s a brief, awkward silence before Stevenson clears his throat and continues to speak. “Obviously Katie knows you well enough to know that you’ll be there for her, while allowing her enough independence to cope with it on her own terms. She’s trusting you,” Stevenson says without emotion.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” he mutters. Experience tells me that he’s most likely running his hands through his hair. He always does when he’s nervous.

  A fist slams against the table, making me jump out of my skin. “You’re right, you can’t!”

  “Tommy!” Mom scolds.

  A few more moments of awkward silence pass. I can only imagine the looks that are being thrown in that kitchen. The tension is surely raising a few questions in everyone’s mind. “I just don’t think this is the best idea,” Tommy speaks quietly. “You’re in over your head, Park.”

  “We’ve been here before, Tommy,” Parker reminds him.

  “Exactly.”

  “If it helps, I’ll give her some anti-anxiety medication before you leave,” Stevenson says, “and you can take these.” There is a faint rattling, which I can only assume is a pill bottle being passed over. “Only give her one if you think it’s absolutely necessary.”

  On that note, it’s time for me to make my presence known. I’m tired of feeling like a child, listening to people talk about what is best for me. I walk into the kitchen, and my eyes lock upon Parker. He’s looking at the floor, obviously lost in his own thoughts. I wonder what he’s thinking.

  It takes him a minute to register my presence, but eventually his eyes meet mine. I plead without words. He knows he owes it to me. Everything that happened was because of him, and deep down he knows it too.

  Parker studies the bottle in his hand. “All right,” he says shoving the pills into his pocket, before looking back at me. “You ready, kiddo?”

  I nod. My family take turns giving me hugs and sharing words of encouragement before I leave. It hits me that I’m slowly becoming more comfortable with skin-on-skin contact, and I no longer feel the urge to crawl away from them when they touch me.

  “I’ll stay here with your parents until you get back, Katie.” Dr. Stevenson places a pill in my hand and without hesitation I pop it in my mouth and swallow it dry. “I’m here for you,” he promises.

  Parker stands next to the door, waiting for me. He looks nervous, which is uncharacteristic for him. I’ve never known him to be lacking confidence or unsure of himself. Ever. It was always part of the allure of Parker McKenzie—he was everything I wasn’t. Growing up, I wasn’t the only one to appreciate it either. The beautiful girls were always chasing him. I remember going to baseball games and sitting behind the older girls, and they would all ogle over Parker and Tommy, but especially Parker. For just a moment, I forget everything that’s gone on in my life, and I find myself reveling in his beauty again.

  He reaches his hand out to me, urging me to come since I seemingly have become stuck to the kitchen floor. Without even thinking twice, I place my hand into his as I step toward the screen door. His hands are rough, just like I always remembered them. Calloused from manual labor and working on cars. We walk to the car hand in hand and I can’t believe how calm I am. Is it the result of being with Parker? Or is it just the medication Stevenson gave me going into effect already?

  Parker opens the door of his Mustang for me. “It’s been a while since we went joyriding, huh, kiddo?” he smirks.

  I find myself smiling as I slide into the passenger seat, and even though I’m in a car again, I feel no anxiety because I know I’m safe. But once again, I’m not sure if it’s the drugs, or the effects of Parker. In a weak attempt to gain control of myself, I shake my head. I feel extremely relaxed, and I shouldn’t. Everyone I loved is dead… and it was my fault. I need to remember that.

  The Mustang kicks to life and I jump. Parker looks at me tentatively. Smiling to myself I realize that he is so far out of his comfort zone—this is not Parker McKenzie territory. When push comes to shove, he doesn’t take care of anyone but himself. He always has. He is number one, and that is it.

  But the emotions that I’m fighting back, the way I relax in his presence, the way the simplest of his touches makes me feel… they all point to one thing.

  Without a doubt, I am still in love with Parker McKenzie.

  I growl at myself.

  Literally, growl.

  Damn medication, making me all soft.

  Parker looks at me quizzically, obviously taken aback by the noises coming from my mouth. I hate this medication that Stevenson has given me. It’s knocked down walls that have been set up for a reason. The medication that I got in the hospital was so much better. I’d much rather be knocked out than to have to deal with things that I have fought hard to lock away.

  We drive in silence for a while before Parker finally turns on the radio. Classic rock blares through the speakers and his thumbs tap the beat on the steering wheel. He keeps giving me sideways glances, obviously checking on my mental state. But the closer we get to the cemetery, the calmer I feel. It feels so wrong and it’s driving me crazy. I begin to doze off. Probably another side effect of this damned medication.

  Sixteen-year-old me is having the time of her life, sitting “bitch” as the boys call it, in Tommy’s truck. Parker is driving Tommy and I around the back dirt roads, making sure we hit every mud puddle he sees. I squeal every time he spots one and presses on the gas. Tommy drops his beer and Parker laughs, smacking my leg for me to get a look. “Fuck!” Tommy yells. “Mom and Pop are going to smell that and kick my ass, again.”

  “Stop drinking in the truck,” I scold, turning the music down.

  “Yeah,” Parker starts, “listen to your sister, she’s smarter than the both of us combined.” He turns to me and winks, and my heart betrays me by fluttering in my chest. I flush and Parker smiles. Damn me, I knew better than to go joyriding with Parker McKenzie.

  A light tapping on my leg gets my attention. “Hey, kiddo, we’re here,” Parker purrs. That seemed like the fastest ride into the city ever, until I realize that I must have fallen asleep. I look around me, noticing the lush green grass and the beautiful lines of marble headstones. We’re really here. My heart jumps into my throat and I want to cry, but I can’t.

  “Listen, Katie,” Parker interrupts my thoughts. “I don’t know what you want me to do here, I’ll do whatever, but you’ve got to let me know what you want from me.”

  Why is he here? What do I want from him? I’m not really sure myself. Up to this point, I’ve told myself that he was just the first person to pop into my head when asked who I wanted to go with me. It was as simple as that. No further explanation needed. But I
know I’ve been lying to myself.

  Parker is the only person who will do what I want. He’ll leave me alone, because that’s what he does best.

  I look into Parker’s eyes. He’s obviously longing for me to give him something, but how can I help him when I can’t even help myself. I’ve made a mess of my life and I need to deal with the repercussions on my own.

  The deep sigh alerts me to the fact that he’s realized that I’m not going to be much help to him. “I brought you something,” he says, pushing himself back with his legs, allowing himself room to dig into his jean pocket. After a moment he pulls out what appears to be a black string and dangles it between his thumb and forefinger. Three silver squares catch the remaining sunlight and I suck in a hasty breath, snatching it from him. Cradling it in my hands I look down at that all too familiar bracelet.

  I revel in amazement. I completely forgot about this bracelet—the one that Parker gave me when I was six, during the first time episode of anxiety and mutism. I’d just started school and had completely shut down. He gave it to me in the hope that it would give me the strength I needed. He even took the time to pick out the sterling silver squares with the letters K, T and P on them.

  “I thought maybe if you knew that Tommy and I were always with you then you might feel a little stronger and you might start talking again,” he says as he ties the string around my wrist.

  I smile as he fumbles with the strings. “Dad made me change a lot of oil so that I could buy this for you, Katie. I hope you like it.”

  I want to tell him I love it but I can’t muster the strength, even though he’s tried to give me all he can. Instead, I thank him the only way I know how. Once he’s finished tying it, I throw my arms around him and hold on tight.

  I vowed that day to never let him go. But I had, and my world went to shit because of it. He takes the bracelet from my hand and ties it around my wrist while I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. “When I got the call, I dug around for it,” he explains. My face flushes with embarrassment as I remember throwing it in his face not so long ago. “I thought maybe you could use a little strength today.”