I stew over his questions for a few minutes. He’s right. All of what he pointed out is true. We don’t know shit. And yes, it’s more than obvious she’s lost a piece of who she used to be. I move to the same position as Jax.
“You’re right. I’m not mad at you. I just—I just want her to confide in me.” Huffing out a breath, I stand. I turn on my heel because my bed is all I want after everything that’s happened tonight. “I’m gonna hit the sack, it’s been a long night,” I call over my shoulder.
“Yup. Later,” He calls back.
Slamming my back against my bed, I stare up at the dark ceiling. If I thought getting her out of my head before was going to be hard, after tonight, it will be damn near fucking impossible. I turn to look at the clock next to me; it reads four in the morning. So much has happened tonight. I want more. She deserves any and all I can give her. I may have gotten it wrong with the last one, but if it kills me I will do right by her.
My phone goes off by my bedside from a text message. My heart beats a little faster at the prospect of it being Kennie. When I pick up my phone and look at the screen though, I see it’s not her.
Hey Drew, it’s Vick. Having a bad nite, need 2 talk.
What the hell? I don’t answer her back. We may have parted ways semi-amicably, but coming to me for every little thing when something doesn’t go her way needs to fucking stop. I shut off my phone to keep from any more interruptions. Somewhere in the shit storm brewing around my head regarding Kennie and Vicki, I fall out.
AVOIDANCE IS AN interesting word. Since my uninhibited sex with Drew, I’ve technically been avoiding him. It’s been three days since it happened, and although I’ve still been on my morning jogs with Jax, I’ve dodged all things Drew. He’s come by, and called a number of times since then, but I never find it in myself to face him. I’ve been kind of a hermit; self-reflection being the key component to my reasoning. I felt disgusted and embarrassed with myself for having done what I did with him—initially. As the days have worn on, I’ve thought about everything and anything I could that dealt with my self image. I’ve been staring at myself for hours on end in the mirror trying to pinpoint the exact justification of my hatred.
I came up blank.
Nothing.
At all.
What I’ve seen is a scared little girl, who is now a woman. Someone who once thought she knew happiness, but ultimately found betrayal. Someone who had confidence, but then let another dictate her self-image.
“I heard what you said to Adam, Wes,” I told him, meekly. He’d been on edge then, snapped at the dumbest things, and argued with me constantly about nonsense.
“What’s that, babe?” he answered me back, flipping through channels as he sat on the couch. He glanced from the television to look at me.
I stood there, completely unsure of what I was about to say next. I’d been reduced to nothing but criticism of my body, how I’d dressed, the way I’d acted over the past six months and I was…tired. I was tired of feeling like shit about myself. I was tired of not feeling good enough. I was tired of overhearing his conversations with Adam about how I’d gained weight. No matter how many times he’d been informed of what I’d eaten or how often I’d worked out—he’d seen no results. Today, I decided to take a stand and let him know how much he’d affected me.
“I said: I heard what you said to Adam.” I stopped twiddling my thumbs and looked at him.
“Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” He set the remote down and turned to give me his full attention. I could already see he was in another one of his moods.
“What it means is, I hear all of the things you say to Adam—about me, about my diet and exercise, about how you’re unhappy. I’ve overheard it all.” My voice still sounded meek, so I cleared my throat. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“Not this shit again,” he huffed out at me.
“What ‘shit’ again? You’re the one—”
He flew off the couch and stood face to face with me. He looked down at me with so much anger it scared me.
“The one who what?! I have nothing to do with your self-esteem. If you feel like shit about yourself, do something about it. If I’m talking about it with friends, that’s my right. If it makes you feel bad, eat a dry salad a day, drink some water, and work out until you don’t feel like shit about yourself anymore,” he breathed out an exasperated breath.
I willed myself not to cry. I couldn’t understand how we’d sunk so low. I couldn’t understand why his once loving words turned into lash upon lash felt against my skin—constantly on an open wound. Nothing made sense. The tears started to flow. There was nothing that could stop it from happening.
“If you’re that unhappy, why are we together? Why are we getting married? It makes no damn sense, Wes. Can’t you see that?”
He looked so disgusted it almost crumbled me to the ground. “Yes, I can see that, and believe me, I’ve been thinking of how smart an idea it is to be married to you,” he spat out at me.
This was it, this was the reason for the contempt he held for me, and it had all boiled down to something as simple as my looks.
Out of nowhere, a tear slipped from his eye. As I concentrated on his dark brown eyes, they seemed to be clouded over with something…guilt…frustration? My natural reaction was to swipe away the lone tear.
“How did we get here?” I asked him.
He grabbed my hand, and his face softened. “I don’t know, baby. I really don’t know how we got here. The stress of work? The unhappiness we’ve had for a while? I just don’t know,” he whispered, with his brows knitted. “I’m going to go out for a bit.” He kissed me softly on the lips.
It wasn’t until after he left that I realized—he never apologized or denied the feelings he had about me or my looks.
Day three turns into day four. Day four turns into day five. On day six, I was staring at myself, again, for what had to be the hundredth time, and I laugh. I laugh so hard it brings fresh tears to my eyes. My hair isn’t done, I have no make-up on, and I don’t care. I look at myself—bare, and something in me sparks. The laughter I see again in my eyes makes me happy. I’ve been thinking of every scenario and situation with Wes that brought me to point of despising my existence, and it just…clicked.
Fuck him.
For all of the times his insecurities were projected onto me.
For all of the times he made me feel less than what I know I’m worth because of the love and support of my friends and family.
For all of the times he used his anger as a means to cover up his lies.
For all of the times I cried for someone who wasn’t worth my tears.
Fuck him.
Once my laughing subsides, more tears stream down my face. These tears, however, are of sadness for what I’ve put my friends and family through. It’s also for how much time I’ve missed out on not loving, but hating, me. As I wipe the tears, and see the crystal blue eyes piercing through me, it dawns on me:
I’m becoming the change I want to see, and I will be okay.
I’VE CHATTED WITH the girls, Kip, and my family. Even though it took until day six for this revelation to come about, I assured them I was fine—getting a little chuckle every time I use the word now, thanks to Drew and his movie reference— just focusing on work.
As I continue to stare at myself, I slowly tilt my head from side to side. I turn my head to the right, then to the left. It’s a normal reaction to looking at oneself, but today? I don’t hate a single thing about what I see. Today, I feel like Mackenzie Alexa Tillson.
And truthfully, there’s no greater feeling.
TEN DAYS. IT’S been ten fucking days since I’ve seen or spoken to Kennie. Has she still gone on her jogs with Jax? She sure as shit has. It’s the only way I know she’s doing okay. He informs me not much has changed on her end—other than she seems lighter, happier. Any attempt at me popping by when I know she’s home, have been completely refuted. She won’
t even talk to me. Avoidance is so much worse than what I ever expected from that night. I was sure awkwardness would be a factor, but this? It’s fucking ridiculous. I’ve decided instead of sitting around and stewing any longer, I’ll take my anger out on the weights at our downstairs gym.
TWO HOURS LATER, I’m sweating my ass off, and have taken a great deal of frustration—in every form—out on the weights. I grab my gym bag wiping my face with the towel, and make my way to the elevator.
Exiting the elevator on my floor, I spot Kennie.
“Kennie,” I call out to her before she’s almost to her door down the hallway. She freezes at the sound of my voice, and then quickens her pace. I let out an aggravated sigh jogging over to her. I lightly grab her arm, spinning her up against her door to face me. I drop my bag to the floor, placing both of my palms flat against either side of her head, effectively caging her in. My breathing and my voice are low. “You can’t avoid me forever.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” she says, barely above a whisper, sifting through the mail in her hand.
“Bullshit. You know you have. It’s been ten days.”
“Yeah, I know. And I wasn’t avoiding you. I just needed some time to think about…” she trails off.
“I’m sure you did, I needed time to think, too. But what you’ve been doing is, in fact, called avoidance.”
“And what conclusion did you come to? In the time you had to think, I mean.”
“You first.”
She crosses her arms over her chest staring up at me. I see the past ten days has made her feistier. “Or you,” she states. “Stop being so childish, Drew.”
“Me? Childish? You can’t be serious,” I tell her in shock. “I was the one trying to talk to you about what happened. You know, shit guys don’t tend to do? ‘Talk about their feelings’.” I over exaggerate the last sentence with air quotes.
She huffs in response.
“Listen, I just wanted to know you were okay. I’ve thought about doing that with you…countless times.” She looks up at me stunned. “But, I regret it.” Her expression falls. “No, not in the way you’re thinking, trust me. You deserved more than what happened. Fuck!” I push off the door running my hands through my sweaty hair. “I just—ugh I just couldn’t say no. I couldn’t control myself and for that, Kennie, I’m sorry.”
She says nothing, absolutely nothing, in response to me. All I see are her blue eyes clouding over. I want to know so fucking bad what’s going through her mind right now.
“Shh baby, not so loud,” I told my current girlfriend, Hayley. Kip and Kennie’s parents were out of town so Kip, being the great friend he is, said I could use his place for tonight. Kennie was staying at her friend’s house while he hung back at my place with Jax.
“Why? There’s no one here, silly.” She looked up at me with her brown eyes hooded. Shit she’s right.
I leaned back over her on the couch, and resumed placing light kisses from her collarbone up her jaw, then to her mouth. Her moaning drove me wild. I was a sophomore, she was a junior, and we’d managed to make our very physical connection work for the better part of a couple of months.
I took off my shirt and tossed it on the coffee table. I lifted hers up and over her head. I took her in. It was so much nicer not having to rush shit. I planned on taking my time with every inch of her. She pulled me back down and crushed her mouth to mine. I moved to ease my pants off. I heard the door open and some girls giggling. I paused and put a finger to Hayley’s lips. The light flickered on. Mother fucker—it was Kennie and a couple of her friends. She came to a dead stop; horror strewn all over her face. Then, it became covered up with embarrassment as I scrambled to pull my pants up.
“D-Drew, what’re you doing here?”
“What’s it look like, sweetie?” Hayley answered instead—her voice filled of sugary sarcasm.
Kennie turned her shock to the half-naked chick underneath me. “But, in my house?” she asked confused. I grabbed my shirt and threw it over my head. Her friends were behind her giggling.
“Yeah, Kip said you were staying at your friend’s house and that I could hang here,” I said by way of explanation, albeit awkwardly.
“I was just coming to grab a movie.” She shifted uncomfortably.
“Don’t let us interrupt anything,” one of her friends answered as Kennie rushed to her room before coming back out.
“Don’t worry, you’re not.” Hayley sat up and winked at her. It had been all kinds of fucked up.
Kennie came back out—movie in hand and gave me a blank stare. Her blue eyes were completely clouded over. Disappoint washed over me. Fuck. She deserved better than to see me being a total douche bag.
“Drew, it’s okay. I don’t blame you for anything. I’m just as responsible for what happened as you are.” I look at her in confusion as she continues, “And just in case you’re wondering, I’m on the pill.” The last part is barely audible.
Fuck. The thought never even crossed my mind. How damn irresponsible can I be? I lean against the doorframe with her still up against her door. I look at her fiddling with her hands.
“Did you tell Jax?”
I understand he’s my brother, but I would never disrespect her like that—more than I already have, I mean.
“No of course not, Sweetheart.”
Then she catches me off guard. “Why not?” This time, her head rises to look into my eyes with curiosity.
“Kennie, I would never do that to you. I would obviously want to see where you are with things. We’re both consenting adults sure, but it doesn’t discount the fact that you did deserve better.”
“So it wasn’t because you were ashamed?”
I stand stock still. I don’t think I heard her correctly—or at all for that matter. Ashamed? No fucking way could she think that’s the truth? I stand straight up which gives her enough time to turn around and face her door. She opens it quickly trying to shut it in my face. I stick my foot in the door to halt the movement. I have to be at work in a little bit, but what the fuck?
“Kennie, wait.”
“No, it’s fine. Never mind. Just forget I said anything.”
SHIT. WHY DO I always put my damn foot in my mouth? I can’t believe I let that last part slip. Truthfully, I’ve been avoiding Drew for the very reason I blurted out—he’s ashamed to have slept with me. I was so freaked out that night. I can’t believe my actions, my words—me. It was completely embarrassing to lose all inhibitions like that with him. I’m becoming okay with my existence as a whole, but, this beautiful man still makes me nervous.
“Kennie, I don’t know what would make you think I’d be ashamed of you—ever. But I can assure you that’s certainly not the case. If I recall, you have been avoiding me.”
He has a point. I have been avoiding him completely—popping my head out the door just a smidge to make sure the coast is clear, purposely not answering when I know it’s him knocking…Who does that? I’m old enough to know how immature I’m being. I should face my issues head on. I didn’t have an epiphany for nothing, right?
“You’re right Drew, and I’m sorry. I just had a lot to think about.” I open the door so it’s not just being held open by his foot.
“I know you do. Anyone can see you’ve got a lot going on; you seem to carry a lot of weight on your shoulders.” He pauses. “It’s okay to let people in, you know?”
No I wouldn’t know. I can’t remember the last time I felt comfortable letting someone in. When you’re with someone who makes you feel like everything you talk about is trivial—you learn to just box it away internally. Hiding away both physically and mentally is how I’ve learned to operate. Is it possible for me to let go? To accept who I am?
“We were all kind of shocked you know—about the whole thing.”
“I kind of figured you guys were. I’m still embarrassed by it all.”
“Don’t be. I think it was a very brave thing you did—confronting her.”
I sh
rug my shoulders but don’t respond. Was it brave? Could I not have waited for a better time or place?
“I do have a question, though. Of all the people to confide in,” he pauses, cocking his head to side so his sweaty hair falls slightly over his eyes. “Why Jax?” He follows up with an adorable grin.
Realistically, I don’t have an answer for him. I don’t know why Jax. Why not Cass, or Ade, or Kip? I think what it all boils down to is the shame. How could I tell people whom I refused to believe for months upon months, that they were right? Was it my own pride?
“I don’t know,” leaning against my door I continue, “I can’t explain it. There’s more to him than he lets people see. Somewhere in my own mess, I get it.”
At least I think I do.
“I’ll tell you what Kennie, since we’ve already skipped right to the—er—” He scratches the back of his head nervously. “Physical aspect of things? How about we rewind?” I look at him in confusion, he continues on. “I have to get going to get ready for work, but tonight? How about just you and I go out? We can go to something as cliché as dinner and a movie, or we can hang out here and talk, or find something else interesting to do. It’s completely up to you.”
He’s even more attractive when he rambles. Wait—did he just ask me out? On a date? I can’t—what would I wear? I stifle a giggle at that being my first thought.
“Before you over think and butcher every part of my rambling, how about we take it one step at a time? I’ll come by around eight and we’ll go from there?”
I simply nod, not wanting to break his concentration on the adorable invitation.
Ending a Broken Journey Page 15