by Lex Martin
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions at bay.
“Kat.”
I ignore him and place the binder on the table. My voice is thick, but I can’t help it. “You’re gonna need this. It has every recipe. Every combination of scents. It’s alphabetized. The vials in my bedroom are all labeled too, so you should be able to figure it out.”
“Kat—”
“If you have any trouble, email me, and I’ll try to explain.”
“Katherine.”
I shake my head and sniffle. “But please don’t call. I don’t think I can handle talking to you right now.”
He suddenly stands and pulls me to him, and I bury my face in his chest.
I love you.
The words echo through me as I cling to his t-shirt, but I clench my jaw to prevent those words from slipping.
“Don’t go,” he whispers, making me tremble.
He doesn’t mean it. He has to sell. His parents need him too. What’s he going to do here? How can he afford to stay?
I back away and shrug my bag up my arm. He turns my chin and makes me look at him. A deep sigh leaves him as his eyes rove over my face. “Don’t go. Stay for the holidays at least.”
Glancing away, I try to get my bearings. When I look at him again, he seems just as anguished as I feel. In a moment of weakness, I ask the words I know I’ll regret. “Can you give me a reason to stay?” My heart flaps wildly in my chest. “Tell me you're not going back to Boston. Tell me you’re not leaving and I’ll stay.”
He squeezes his eyes shut like that’s the last thing he wants to hear.
“That’s what I thought,” I say to myself.
He shakes his head. “I just… I can’t make that promise.” He releases me to press his palms into his eyes.
When he looks at me, I give him a sad smile. “I can’t get any deeper knowing where this is headed. I’m in too deep as it is, you know?” The heat in my eyes burns, but I blink it back. “Good luck in Boston. I really wish you the best.” Reaching behind his neck, I pull him down to me and kiss him. “I’ll miss you. So much,” I whisper against his lips before I turn away.
When I step back, he looks away. I know what that means. The word I couldn’t say. Goodbye.
Thankfully, my car starts right up, and I tear down the driveway. I know I’m leaving behind half of my belongings, but nothing compares to the fact that my broken heart lies at his feet in that farm house.
It doesn’t matter. It’s where it belongs.
56
Katherine
When I reach the main road, I realize I can’t see the road through my tears, so I pull over to the rest stop by the highway, the one where my parents and I slept when I was a kid, and I cry harder.
I must fall asleep because the sun is starting to set when I pry open my eyes.
My head is throbbing, and I can’t contain the groan that rumbles in my throat because I’m so sore from sleeping like a pretzel. It takes me a second to orient myself, and then I wish I hadn’t.
I wait for the tears, but none come. Instead of heartache, I feel numb. And maybe that’s a good thing. A defense mechanism. Internally, I thank biology for pulling the plug on my emotions.
Grabbing my phone, I realize it’s dead. I dig in my bag but can’t find my charger.
“Dumbass,” I grumble, dreading my next move. But it’s the only thing I can do.
I head home. To Corpus.
The air is cold and salty when I finally stumble out of my car and up my parents’ driveway. Corpus Christi is on the Gulf of Mexico, so even though it’s December, the ocean is only a stone’s throw away, and I can smell it. Feel it in the wind that whips my hair into my face.
The driveway is lined with cars. It’s Christmas Eve, so I’m not surprised, but dang. I’m not in the mood.
My hand freezes on the door handle. Deep breaths.
The first step into the hallway makes me pause. It smells like tamales and cinnamon and lemon Pine Sol, such a familiar scent that reminds me of family get-togethers. Like the year our whole family was so poor, we gave each other socks for Christmas. Everyone got really into it, and it became a game to see who could give the ugliest pair.
I poke my head into the kitchen. A dozen people are buzzing around. My dad is stirring some vat at the stove. Probably menudo. My mother is braiding my cousin’s hair. Everyone is smiling and eating and hugging. Tori finally sees me.
“Holy shit. It’s Katherine!”
Everyone turns to me, mouths open.
“Hey, guys.” And goddamn it. I left their gifts under my bed at the farm.
I sigh and force a smile.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting. Yelling? Threats? A one-way ticket to a convent? But that’s not what happens.
Instead, my dad yanks me off my feet into a bear hug.
“Mija!” My father twirls me around until I’m laughing.
He’s wiping away tears that only make mine well up. Ugh. Can I go twenty-four hours without crying? This is ridiculous.
When my dad releases me, my mom rushes in for a hug. “Gracias a Dios! She’s home!”
People hand me off like a rag doll to hug me and pet my hair. Yes, really. They pet me. And then they make me sit down and eat because they claim I’m too skinny.
It takes all of sixty seconds for Tori to saunter over and sit on my lap like she’s five, not seventeen.
“Dude, get your bony ass off me.” I try to shrug her away, but she clings to me like a koala bear.
“I missed you, sissy.”
Aww. My heart melts a little. “Missed you too, Tor.”
She grabs my face and whispers, “Did you bring your hot man toy?”
I shrug out of her hold and shake my head. “Don’t call him that. And no.”
She studies my face and then gasps, “You guys broke up?”
Again, everyone’s attention is on me. “Yes, we broke up. Is everyone happy now? Brady’s going back to Boston. And no, before you ask, I am not getting back with Eric. You may not know this, but he’s an asshole.”
My little cousins start laughing and my mother flutters around like I just declared that I like to pole-dance with pasties in my free time.
Two hours later, my parents kick everyone out so we can talk. They’ll be back tomorrow for Christmas anyway, so it’s not like I ruined anything.
My dad points to the couch. “Siéntate.” He sighs. “Explain everything. Like why you didn’t come home this summer and why the senator’s boy has been calling us.”
“Dad, you might want to sit too.” Because it’s gonna be a long night.
To their credit, they don’t interrupt me, even when I tell them Eric got me pregnant.
Anyway, they must have suspected I was hiding something major to not come home all this time.
At hearing this news, my mom cries quietly while my father clenches his jaw and rubs her shoulder.
I explain how the asshole finally came around. Two weeks later. And by that time I realized he wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to have a child with. Someone who cuts and runs at the first sign of trouble. And then I tell them I was with Mel when I miscarried a few weeks later.
“Mija,” my father chokes out, “I wish you had told us something. I never would’ve talked to that lowlife if you had.”
My lower lip quivers. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
He laughs and shakes his head before he pulls me into another hug. “How could that even be possible? My girl is the first person in the family to graduate from college. And from a damn good school. You worked for a senator. How could I be disappointed in you?”
I mumble into his shoulder. “I just feel like you guys had all your hopes pinned on me. You worked so hard to get me those opportunities. To get me to a place where I could get a job like that.” Leaning back, I sniffle. “All those times you didn’t get things you needed because I needed school books. Or how the electricity would get turned off but you’d
still fill my meal card with money.”
Seriously, my parents are amazing. I don’t even bring up the years they spent as migrant farmers because I'll bawl.
He pats my back. “How did you know about the electricity?”
“Tori would call me.”
“Traitor!” she screams from the other room.
My dad chuckles at my eavesdropping little sister.
But the words I’ve used to describe my ex linger in my mind. Someone who cuts and runs. And my stomach drops. Is that what I just did to Brady?
I back away from my dad, misery seeping into my bones.
My dad must notice my expression. “Did you get the flowers we sent for the funerals?”
I nod, not wanting to think about that day.
“We felt real bad about Mel and her husband.” His voice is thick. “She was always such a good girl. Always treated everyone real good.”
“I know, Daddy.”
He’s silent for a while, and then he sighs. “¿Y el otro? El hermano del Cal. Tell me about him.”
A sad smile lifts my lips. That’s easy. There’s so much to say about Brady.
I tell my dad how wonderful he is. How hard he works on the farm to provide for his niece and parents. How well he took care of me when he arrived. How much he loves his niece.
“But I’m worried that maybe I gave up on him too soon.” I clench my jaw to control the emotion that wells up in me. “I was scared. I didn’t want to be left behind when he moves back East.” The silence lingers between us. Finally, I whisper, “Because I love him. And shouldn’t I put my money where my mouth is and fight for what I love?”
My dad grabs my hand and pulls me into another hug, not saying anything for a while. At last he sighs. “I’m glad you came home, mija. You deserve someone who will fight for you.”
57
Brady
Izzy cried all afternoon and half the night. Hell, I felt emotional too. I could barely grumble Merry Christmas to my parents when they called a few hours ago.
The truth is, nothing is the same without Katherine.
Her scent is everywhere. On my clothes. On the sheets. In the house. I can’t escape her. God, I don’t even want to.
Breaking up, or whatever we just did, fucking sucks. And it sucks even worse when it happens during the holidays.
Because here I am sitting on the floor next to the Christmas tree she decorated, lamenting my life like an asshole, staring at this beautiful gift she left me. And I’m only talking about the box and the wrapping paper. Because of course Kat went all out and had it wrapped in some expensive red paper and a huge gold bow.
And it makes me feel worse.
Izzy whimpers in my arms. She fell asleep a little while ago after another crying fit. I lean back against the couch and pat her back. Her little face is still flushed.
“This sucks, Iz,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m fucking up everything.”
Really, I want to drown at the bottom of the bottle of bourbon I have stashed in the office, but I can’t exactly go on a bender with a baby in my arms. Plus, it’ll probably only remind me of the last time I drank—with Kat.
I stare at the tree until the sun starts to set. When my arms go numb from holding Izzy, I drag myself off the floor and tuck her in bed. Her sleep schedule is totally off. Kat would tell me to keep her up right now so the baby can sleep later.
Kat. Kat. Kat.
I’m going insane.
Fuck it.
I stalk to the living room and grab the gift, ready to chuck it into a closet, when a note slips out.
It’s just a folded piece of notebook paper.
Don’t open it. Don’t do it.
I open it. The handwriting is messy. She must have scrawled it out just before she left.
Dear Brady,
I can’t pretend I’m not heartbroken because I am, but please know that I understand why you’re leaving. I think you’re an amazing man. Your family is so lucky to have you.
I wanted to give you something to keep you and Izzy warm back in Boston. Something to remind you of your time here. I hope you’ll remember me. You’ll always own a piece of my heart.
Love,
Kat
I don’t think there’s a part of this note that doesn’t completely depress me. I give in and pour myself a shot before I continue, but I tuck away the bottle. I figure I can still change a baby on one shot.
The box is heavy on my lap, and my fingers sink into the sides as I grip it.
A minute later, I’m staring at a large quilt, the kind you inherit from a relative. With rich fabrics and tiny stitching. All in dark blues and burgundies. This must have cost a small fortune.
If I was depressed before, it’s nothing compared to seeing the words sewed on the front. Above the image of a small farm house surrounded by wildflowers, it says, Texas: Home is Where The Heart Is.
Is that what I’m doing? Leaving my heart behind? Because it sure fucking feels like it.
If I ever wondered what it was like to get my heart jacked with a rusty crowbar, I now have the answer.
I’ve tried calling her a million times over the last week, but it goes straight to voicemail. At the very least, I want to know she made it home safely. I assume that’s where she went, back to Corpus.
My cell buzzes in my pocket.
“Hey, Mom.”
I slump into a chair, exhausted from feeding all the animals, feeding the baby and making ten thousand phone calls. How women everywhere do this, day in and day out, I’ll never know. Men have it easy.
“Your father and I have talked. We think this is the right decision.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “Mom, I’m not sure what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. At the end of the day, you don’t have a choice. This window of opportunity won’t last forever.” She gave me her whole spiel last night. I had no idea she felt this way. “Did you call Mrs. MacIntyre? Can she and her husband help?”
Groaning, I mumble, “She had some choice words for me, but yeah, they’ll help.”
My mom chuckles. I really don’t know what about this situation is funny, but I table my complaint.
Sighing, I tell her I’ll call and let her know how it went. She thinks this is a foregone conclusion, but really, this could all blow up in my face.
“Love you, son. Happy New Year! And please drive carefully. You know how everyone gets tonight.”
“I will, Mom. Don’t worry.”
“And bundle up that baby! I don’t want her catching a cold. Is she over that bout of constipation? You know, baby poops—”
“She’s fine. Her poops are fine. Everything’s fine. And yes, I’ll drive safely.”
At least I’m laughing when I get off the phone. And really, it’s nice to know she’s in my corner.
I hang up and get Izzy bundled up. Because we have an appointment. And it’s something that will probably change our lives forever.
Izzy has been quiet the entire drive. Which freaks me out a little. I even stop to check on her. To make sure she didn’t sneak a Cheerio and accidentally choke on it. Finally, I stop at Target and buy three baby mirrors so I can see her in my rear view mirror from every angle.
Not gonna lie. This whole thing makes me a little nauseous. The longer I drive, the more time I have to think about my plan. And all of the ways it could go wrong.
When I get out of the truck and poke my head in the back of the cab, Izzy grins. I smile back as I fix her little barrette, which is hanging off her forehead.
“Can’t have you going in there looking like your uncle doesn’t know how to dress you.” I pull up both of her socks and fix her pants. “Iz, I know this has been a rough week, but do you think you could be extra good for me today?”
She nods solemnly. It probably helps that she has no clue what the hell I’m talking about.
Reaching down to her feet, I grab my duffle bag and make sure I brought everything. I mean, if I forgot something, I’m
shit out of luck at this point, but looking through it calms my mind.
Before I get the baby out of her car seat, I pat my coat pocket to make sure I brought the most important item of all. And then it’s time.
58
Katherine
Voices ebb and flow down the hall. The cheer in everyone’s muffled voices makes me a little stabby.
I suspect my parents know I’m in a foul mood because they’ve left me alone. Either that or they’ve had their hands full with every relative in South Texas who has undoubtedly decided to visit. The front lawn is probably overflowing with cars.
But that’s a nice distraction from the conversations I’ve been having with my parents. No wonder they want me to stay here “to get my bearings.”
At least they seem to understand what I’m saying about my old job and why I don’t want to go back to politics.
My parents even look moderately sympathetic when I talk about Brady.
I’m exhausted from last night. My mom made me whip up an ungodly number of tamales for the family visiting tonight. I finally doze off but a knock on my bedroom door jars me awake. I’m guessing my pity party is coming to an end because Tori rips off my comforter and jumps on my bed.
“What the hell?” I glare.
“You can’t lie in bed all day, loser. It’s New Year’s Eve. Get the fuck up. We’re going to par-tay like we’re hoochies in a Prince video.”
I smile pleasantly until she smiles back, and then I yank the comforter out of her grip and burrow deeper. “How do you even know who Prince is?”
“Mom’s been watching old episodes of I Love The 80s on YouTube.” She sits on me like the slug that she is.
“Tor, we need to establish boundaries,” I grunt under her weight.
She snorts. “So does that mean you won’t give me Brady’s number? You know, if I wanted to call him and show him a good time?” Then my little sister starts grinding on me.
I whip the blanket off my head and shoot her the dirtiest look I can muster. She laughs harder.