Blind Kiss

by Renee Carlino

  “Ugh, I really feel like a fifth wheel,” Ling said.

  “We’ll get my crutches and go to a bar. This isn’t a double date—just a casual hang.” Ling rolled her eyes at me.

  Gavin and Lottie rode in his car, and Ling and I went with Lance in his pristine vehicle. When Lance helped me into the front seat, he pulled my seatbelt around for me and then pecked me on the lips. It was our first kiss.

  I grabbed his neck and pulled him in for a more intimate kiss, but the sparks just weren’t flying. He was trying, but strangely it felt awkward on his end as well. Too forced and rigid. When he pulled away, he was smiling, so I smiled back.

  “That was nice,” he said before shutting my door and walking around to the driver’s side.

  Ling leaned forward from the backseat. “What was that? I thought you didn’t like him?”

  “He’s growing on me.”

  “Sounds like a freakin’ fairy tale.”

  “Shh, he’s coming.” I swatted at her and gave Lance a big smile as he opened the driver-side door.

  ONCE WE GOT to the bar, I used my crutches to propel myself to a barstool. All my friends made way for me and basically kicked some guy out of his seat so I could sit at the end of the bar. They gathered around me, menus in hand.

  “I’ll get your first drink,” Gavin said. “Wait, are you allowed to mix pain meds with alcohol?”

  “I’m not on that stuff anymore, so I’m drinking, yo! Tequila shots!”

  Lance shook his head. “I’ll get Penny’s,” he said to Gavin.

  Gavin raised a brow. “I was just gonna buy her one celebratory drink, man.”

  Thankfully Lottie was busy talking to Ling and wasn’t watching this lame macho face-off unfold.

  “Actually,” Gavin said, “how about I get this round, then you get the next?”

  Lance nodded. Gavin could be extremely hard to deal with, but when it came to me, there was a gentleness in him. This was his version of backing off.

  I hadn’t drunk in a while so the alcohol hit me pretty hard. Before I knew it I was swaying on the stool. Gavin wouldn’t leave my side and Lottie wouldn’t leave him, so I had at least two bodies to break my fall if I fell to the ground. Around eleven, Lance said, “I gotta get going to prepare for my interview tomorrow. Ready, Penny?”

  Gavin had his arm around Lottie, and Ling was talking to some guy at the end of the bar.

  “I guess,” I said. Though I didn’t really want to leave.

  “We can drop her off if you have to get going, Lance. You want to stay a little longer, P?”

  “Well, I just want to wait for Ling. I told her I’d wait,” I lied.

  “I’ll take them,” Gavin said.

  “Seems kind of senseless since Ling and I live in the same building,” Lance argued.

  “Why not let the girls decide?” Gavin countered.

  “Ling!” Lance called down the bar, waving at her.

  She stood up and stalked toward us. “You trying to cock block me, Lance? I’m pretty into that guy—can’t you tell?”

  “Jeez, I was just checking to see if you wanted a ride. I have to get going.”

  “I can take care of myself, but thank you.” She turned to Gavin. “You staying for a while?”

  He nodded.

  “Great. You can give me a ride if things don’t go well with the hot guy.”

  “No problem.”

  She looked back at Lance. “I think we’re covered, Lance. Penny has the okay from her doctor to drink, and I think she wants to celebrate a little longer—that is, of course, unless Penny wants to go home with you.”

  They all turned and looked at me. “Sorry, Lance. I just want to hang out for a bit. Do you mind?”

  “It’s fine,” he said before leaning down and kissing me on the cheek.

  “Please don’t be mad. Good luck tomorrow. I know you’ll get the job.”

  He shrugged and walked away. “We’ll see.”

  Gavin pretended like Lance wasn’t annoying because, honestly, what could Gavin really say when Loonie Lottie was on his arm?

  “You’re just gonna play Mr. Cabdriver to these girls?” Lottie said.

  “Yes, I am,” he shot back. I think he was past the point of taking her shit. Lottie was a year behind us at Colorado State, so she wasn’t in celebration mode. Still, she could’ve been a little less whiny and clingy and let the rest of us bask in the glory of our achievements, if you ask me.

  I continued to drink from my perch on the stool with my leg propped on a chair. After Gavin triple-checked to make sure I wasn’t going to take a plunge face-first onto the floor, he and Lottie went out onto the dance floor. He was a good dancer even though he swore he wasn’t. Meanwhile, Ling sucked face with Romeo at the other end of the bar for about five minutes and then eventually came over to hang out with me.

  “What happened? I thought you were into that guy?”

  “He was supersmart and great to talk to . . . and then he kissed me. Ick. He practically stuck his whole tongue down my throat. I was like, ‘Dude, it’s not a race to Tonsil Town.’ Just a total turnoff, you know?” She looked out onto the dance floor. “Figures that Gavin’s a good dancer.”

  “Most guys who are good kissers are good dancers. Have you noticed that? Not that I have that much experience. It’s just a rhythm thing, and an understanding of the way another person moves.” I started to feel sad.

  I was pretty out of it by the time we left. As we headed for Ling’s, I was surprised when Lottie asked to be dropped off first. “Why?” Gavin asked. “You don’t want to come back to my place?”

  “No, I have to work early.” She lived in a complex on the way to Ling’s, and I lived closer to Gavin, so it actually made more sense to drop her off first. I didn’t think Lottie thought of me—The Gimp—or even Ling as much of a threat anymore.

  When we got to her building, Gavin got out and walked her to her door. When he returned, he quietly drove the rest of the way to Ling’s. She hopped out, shot us a peace sign, and said, “Thanks, G.”

  “No problem.”

  “Penny, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you,” I said.

  Once we were back on the road, Gavin looked over at me and said, “I like her. You were right; she is a good friend.”

  “I don’t want to go home, Gavin.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Okay then. You want to stay at my place? Sleep with Jackie Chan?”

  “I thought we could spoon. I’m just cold and lonely.”

  The honesty wasn’t hard under the influence.

  “I’m pretty sure Lance would be willing to solve that.” There was an edge to his voice.

  “You can take me home then.”

  “No, we’ll go back to my apartment. Mike’s at his girlfriend’s place. But don’t you need meds from home?”

  “You have Advil, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That should be fine.”

  “Okay.”

  We drove the rest of the way in silence. He carried me up the stairs but seemed so far away.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Nothing at all.”

  He laid me on his bed and very carefully took off my shoes. “I’m not going to break,” I said.

  “It’s only been a few weeks since your surgery.”

  “I know but I’m tough and drunk and I’ll be okay. I just need to call my parents.”

  I dialed them from my cell phone, but oddly no one answered. I left a message on the machine saying I was staying at Ling’s. I didn’t want to explain why I was staying at Gavin’s.

  Lying down, fully clothed, I turned on my good side and curled up. Gavin left his clothes on, too, and curled up behind me. I dozed off in his arms, with his face nuzzled in my hair. Nothing was awkward and nothing hurt. It felt exactly right to have him there, but he wasn’t mine; he was Lottie’s.

  At four in t
he morning, I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating on the bedside table. I didn’t recognize the number so I didn’t answer. Ten seconds later, I had a voicemail. I pushed the voicemail button and instantly recognized my aunt’s voice—my mother’s sister. My heart started racing. It was unusual for her to call me at all, let alone at four in the morning. As I went to call her back, I noticed that I had several missed calls.

  “Penny, sweetie,” she sounded choked up, “you need to come to the hospital downtown as soon as possible.” I was wiping sleep from my eyes, trying to process what I was hearing. That was her entire message. No details whatsoever.

  Gavin sat up behind me, rubbing my back. “What is it?” he asked.

  I hung up. “I don’t know. I have to go to the hospital, though. Something’s wrong. I think it might be my mom. I feel sick.” I tried dialing everyone. My mother, my father, my grandparents. No one answered.

  Gavin got up and started rushing around, collecting my shoes and sweater. He helped me put them on and then carried me very carefully down the stairs and put me into his car.

  At the hospital, he hoisted my wheelchair from the trunk and brought it around to the passenger side, helping me in. He rushed me through the front sliding doors and yelled something at the receptionist. She pointed to the elevator and said, “Third floor.”

  We were greeted by a swarm of crying family members standing just outside the elevators on the intensive care floor. Kiki was hysterical, sitting in a chair, hunched over and sobbing into her knees. My mother was on the other side of the room, near the waiting room, looking shocked, tears streaming down her face. When we made eye contact, she collapsed into my grandfather’s arms.

  “What’s going on?!” I yelled. “Where’s Dad?”

  My aunt Marla came to me and knelt in front of my wheelchair. “Penny, your dad had a heart attack brought on by the pneumonia. They brought him here and he coded three times. They did everything they could.” She could barely speak. “He’s gone.”

  Gone? Where? Where did he go?

  I stared at her, uncomprehendingly. “He fought hard, but they couldn’t save him. I’m so sorry. We’re all going to miss him so much.”

  The earth shifted on its axis then. When someone says the words he’s gone to you, it’s hard to get your bearings. Your brain is fighting to process the information and protect you from it at the same time. In the immediate aftermath, the finality of death is impossible to accept.

  “Where?” I didn’t shed a tear. “Where is he?” I said, blank faced. My insides felt cavernous; all I could feel was my aunt’s voice echoing he’s gone, over and over again.

  She took my hand as Gavin pushed my chair down the hall toward the ICU bay. Inside the room, my grandmother was sitting next to a bed, holding someone’s hand. There were no beeping machines, no monitors . . . just my father’s lifeless body.

  I was in shock. My grandmother looked at me, crying, and said, “It’s not natural.”

  “What do you mean, Gram?” My voice was weak.

  “For a mother to bury her child.”

  I looked at my father again.

  He was her child.

  Gavin pushed me close to the opposite side of the bed so I could take my father’s other hand in mine. That’s when I knew . . . when the reality finally hit me. He was gone. I couldn’t feel him anymore. His body was lifeless . . . soulless.

  The moon, the sky, the stars, all the planets in the universe—they all crashed into me with one single, heavy thud. There was nowhere to go but sink into myself and try not to be crushed by the weight of it all. My head involuntarily dropped into my lap and I sobbed.

  “Please God, no. Not you, Daddy.”

  21. Fourteen Years Ago

  GAVIN

  You can’t feel anything but helpless when you see someone you love suffer such a momentous loss. What could I do?

  Penny stayed in the hospital room, sobbing into her lap until they finally came in to wheel away Liam’s body. No one else was there; Penny was the only one who wouldn’t leave his side.

  “What are you doing with him?” she asked the orderlies.

  “We have to take him now,” one of the men said. At the same moment, a grief counselor and a priest came into the room.

  “You can bless him,” Penny said, “but he wasn’t religious. I don’t even know if he believed in God.” She looked up at me as more tears fell from her eyes. “There was still so much I didn’t know about him, and I’ll never get to ask.” She broke down again. The priest said a prayer and knelt beside Penny’s chair. He tried to comfort her.

  “Your father is at peace, my child. He’s not in pain.”

  Penny continued sobbing.

  I lifted her out of her wheelchair, her knee brace clinking against the side of a small couch. She didn’t flinch. I sat down, holding her on my lap. Her arms were around my shoulders, her face in my neck. Tears and snot were soaking the collar of my T-shirt. She was hyperventilating.

  Rubbing her back up and down, I repeated, “Breathe. Take a breath. Breathe, Penny.”

  She cried and cried until I finally felt her body resign. The tension was gone and it was like I had a sleeping child in my arms. “You need water, baby.”

  Nodding into my shoulder, she said, “I want to see my mom.”

  I put her back in her wheelchair and rolled her into the ICU waiting room, which had cleared out significantly since we had gotten there. The only people left were Penny’s mom, Kiki, her aunt, and her grandmother.

  Anne stood on shaking legs and walked toward Penny’s chair. She knelt next to it. I had never seen Penny’s mom be affectionate toward her, but deep down I knew she cared about her because of how loving Penny was. Maybe once Kiki was born, Anne had transferred all her energy to her youngest. But now Penny was like a baby, mourning her dad like no one else.

  Penny rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Mama,” she cried.

  “I know, Penny, I know.”

  Kiki was crying quietly in the corner. I suddenly felt out of place. Still rubbing her back, I bent near Penny’s ear and whispered, “I’m so sorry. Should I go and leave you with your family?”

  “Don’t leave, Gavin.”

  ANNE WAS STRONG that day. She held Liam’s mother up, comforted Penny and Kiki, and held both their hands as we walked to the parking lot.

  I asked quietly, “Anne, why don’t you let me drive you all home? I can come back and get my car later.” Liam’s sister, Penny’s aunt Jane, had finally arrived from Boulder. She and her husband both looked wrecked. They took Penny’s grandma in their car, and Anne told everyone to meet back at the house.

  I drove the station wagon with Penny in front because she still couldn’t bend her knee. In the rearview mirror I could see Kiki’s and Anne’s stunned faces. Penny was making quiet mewling sounds, as if her body was so depleted she could no longer cry properly. I hadn’t known that kind of grief before.

  Inside the house, everyone sat in the living room in silence. I offered to pick up food for them, but no one was hungry. At four in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door. I answered. It was Lance.

  “Penny texted Ling,” he said from the other side of the threshold. “I didn’t know if it was too early . . . but you’re here.”

  “Penny’s my best friend.”

  He shook his head and looked away down the street.

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “She just lost her dad. I don’t think she feels like talking.”

  Penny hobbled into the hallway on her crutches. Standing behind me, she said, “Lance, I’ll call you later, okay? Right now I need to be with my family.”

  Lance looked from Penny to me and back again as if to say, Is this guy family? But to his credit, he caught himself. “I’m so sorry, Penny,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow and check in.”

  That rest of the night was surreal. Anne asked me to stay with Penny in her room, while she and Kiki slept in Kiki’s room. I don’t think anyon
e could bear to go into the master bedroom yet.

  The rest of the family members left. Lottie was blowing up my phone while I was peeling Penny’s clothes off. I had plied Penny, Kiki, and Anne with water and crackers for hours, until they were finally so exhausted they crawled into bed.

  Penny was shivering, her body still shuddering every thirty seconds from hyperventilating for so long. I curled up behind her and tried to soothe her. “How’s your knee, Penny?”

  “What knee?” She fell asleep a moment later. Her body still spasmed periodically throughout the night. It was hard for me to sleep, knowing that she was so physically strung out.

  Around two a.m., I heard Anne crying in the bathroom. I went into the hallway and knocked on the door. “Are you okay, Anne?”

  She opened the door, her face red and puffy, no makeup on, her hair a mess. There’s no vanity in that kind of grief. “I wish I had been a better wife,” she said.

  I rubbed her back as we stood there in the doorway. “He loved you. You loved him. That’s all that matters.”

  “I neglected him,” she said. “He took care of us . . . and I neglected him.”

  “It’s just life. I think it happens when you’ve been married for so long. But I saw the way he looked at you. He adored you, Anne.” She fell into my arms and cried.

  “Penny loves you,” she said when she was finally able to catch her breath. “Penny’s afraid she loves you too much. She’d never loved anything as much as her father and dancing until you came along. She can’t dance anymore . . . and now her dad’s gone. She’s lost so much, all at once. You’re all she has left, Gavin.”

  “She has you and Kiki and Ling . . . and Lance.” I hated saying his name.

  “Pfft, Lance, please. Lance is a distraction. She loves you. Oh Gavin, what am I going to do? How am I going to take care of these girls?”

  “You just will. You have to.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and squared her shoulders. “I just have to. You’re right. I need to give Penny more. I’ve neglected her, too. I’ve poured everything into Kiki.”

  “Stop beating yourself up, Anne. No one could have predicted this. He was so young.”

  “He was our rock.”