by Jackson, Meg
The old woman turned around to follow Kim’s eyes and Kennick felt his stomach clench immediately. The woman had blue eyes like Kim’s, but where Kim was all soft and sweet, this lady might as well have been made of broken glass.
“Funny seeing you here, babe,” he said, putting on his best smile as he slid, uninvited, next to Kim. He could feel her agitation baking off her body in waves and he slipped an arm around her waist, but her spine only stiffened further. He caught the old woman staring daggers at him and gave it back as good as he was getting. “Kennick.”
He shoved his hand out across the table, but the woman eyed it like it was a pair of skid marked tighty-whities.
“Who is this man?” she asked sharply, tearing her gaze away from the offering hand to shoot her daughter a withering glance.
“This is Kennick,” Kim said, eyes lowered. “He’s a…a friend.”
Kennick laughed and squeezed his arm around Kim but didn’t correct her.
“Indeed,” the woman said, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. “Well, I’m Cordelia. Kimberly’s mother. And we’re having lunch, if you don’t mind…”
“Oh, I haven’t eaten yet,” Kennick said. “You ordered already? You know, the tamales here are fire.”
She couldn’t help it. The way her mother was looking like she’d just been given an acid enema, the fact that Kennick was going to order the very same tamales Cordelia had just been questioning, the way his arm around her waist made her feel safe despite the increasingly awkward situation…it was too much not to laugh. A bit high and hysterical, but genuine all the same. Kennick turned to her with a smile as her mother’s shocked expression deepened.
“Now, that’s a sound I like hearing,” Kennick said just as a waitress appeared, looking haggard despite the fact that the restaurant was mostly empty. Kim knew her, being something of a regular at Sid’s. Jessica was usually the fastest, perkiest, most affable girl in the world. Something was clearly up, and normally Kim might have extended an invitation to talk about it, but she was swimming in enough of her own mire at the moment.
“What can I get you today?” Jessica asked, barely looking up from her little ticket book.
“Coke and an order of those gut-killing tamales will do me,” Kennick said before Cordelia could open her mouth to tell him he wasn’t invited to eat with them. He gave the old woman a too-big smile. “Order whatever you like, ma’am. It’s on me.”
Cordelia raised her shoulders, obviously put-off but too flustered to argue.
“Tilapia, broiled, with a side salad, no dressing” she said. “And just water to drink.”
Kennick’s eyebrows raised. He’d never heard such a boring order in his entire life. Then again, the woman was so thin she’d slip through a crack in a wood floor. She had given Kim her bold blue eyes, but not her soft, sensual body. Kennick could only be glad for that.
“Ceasar salad for me, Jessica,” Kim said. “And a Diet Coke would be great.”
“And bring some extra parmesan,” Kennick said, smiling at Kim.
“You’re going to put parmesan cheese on tamales?” Cordelia asked. To her, Kennick Volanis was a non-stop train of awful.
“No, it’s Kim’s favorite,” Kennick said. “I’ve seen her coat a pizza with so much cheese it was like a snow day.”
“I know,” Cordelia said, her lips pursing again as her eyebrow lowered. “We used to have to take the cheese away from her when we had pasta. It was disgusting.”
Kennick laughed, bright and loud.
“Nah,” he said. “I like it. It’s cute.”
Cordelia was nearly shaking with irritation. She didn’t like most people, and Kim knew that Kennick must be some sort of nightmarish figure in her mother’s eyes. From the public affection of putting his arm around her to his tattooed skin and loose, casual clothes to his exotic, tanned skin, he was the sort of man Cordelia would cross the street to avoid in the middle of the day. Somewhere deep down, Kim was happier than she could ever remember being around her mother.
“Well, as long as you like it, I suppose there’s no argument to be made! Kim, who is this man and why is he ruining our lunch date?” Cordelia’s sense of decorum had fallen to her sense of indignation.
“Kennick Volanis,” Kim responded tersely. “He’s a friend. A…a close and intimate friend, mother.”
Now, it was Cordelia’s turn to clench her jaw shut, her eyes widening as she realized what Kim was telling her. Kim could almost see the facts falling into place behind her mother’s cold eyes. Close. Intimate. Friend.
“Volanis?” Cordelia said, voice low and gruff. Kim felt Kennick stiffen slightly beside her. “That name seems familiar.”
“Doesn’t matter, Mom. Kennick, thank you for joining….”
“I know that name,” Cordelia said, a small smirk now spreading across her face. An awful sort of smile. “Your father was Pieter Volanis. You’re one of those gypsies.”
“Bingo,” Kennick said, meeting her smirk with one of his own. The animosity between them could have sparked a fire in the diner. When Jessica came by with the drinks, Kim saw her nearly turn on her heel and run away from the scene unfolding.
“Were you aware of that, Kimberly?” Cordelia said, turning back to her daughter.
“I was,” Kim said, taking a sip of her soda and shrugging. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?” Cordelia hissed, leaning in as though Kennick weren’t there at all. “This is…this is…ugh! Excuse me!”
Trembling and clattering across the tile floor in her kitten heels, Cordelia James slammed her way into the lady’s room, at which point Kim released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Turning to Kennick, she wanted to apologize – but couldn’t imagine how she would ever be able to apologize enough for her mother.
“Don’t,” Kennick said, reading her mind. “You should go talk to her.”
“Go talk to her?” Kim asked, taken aback. “Are you kidding me? If we’re in private together, I’ll just end up slapping her across the face!”
“She’s your mother,” Kennick said, eyes softening. “She’s worried about you.”
“No, she’s not,” Kim said, mumbling now. “She’s worried about what people will think about me. That’s all she’s ever worried about.”
“You don’t have to,” Kennick said with a sigh. “But you should. Family is all you have, sometimes. Even very shitty family.”
Kim bit her lip, considering this. She supposed her mother wasn’t entirely to blame for the outburst; after all, it must have been quite the shock to take in all at once. Maybe she could get Cordelia to calm down enough to come out and finish the lunch in some semblance of peace.
“How are you so good?” Kim marveled as she stood and Kennick turned to let her out of the booth. He smiled up at her.
“Just born that way, baby,” he said, and when he gave her ass a tiny pinch as she squeezed past him, she wasn’t sure whether to turn around and slap him or kiss him. She settled on neither, steeling herself for whatever her mother was about to dish out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What the hell are you doing with that gypsy? What kind of woman have you become?” Cordelia began her diatribe before the door even shut behind Kim. She swallowed her regret about following her mother and crossed her arms. She had always let her mother say whatever crazy, judgmental, controlling thing she wanted about Kim. She tried to defend Ricky when she could. But now, she felt more and more enraged as she thought of Kennick. He was a good man, and her mother had no right to say different.
“The kind of woman who knows what she’s worth,” Kim spit out, not really knowing if the words were true but wanting to believe them all the same. “And that man out there isn’t just ‘some gypsy’. He’s a good man. A strong man. A kind man. And he cares for me, and for his family.”
“Cares for you! Men like that don’t care about anyone! They just want to…to…use you and lose you! And what will people think, Ki
mberly? You running around with that kind of person, letting him touch you right in a restaurant? Disgusting!”
“You’re the one who’s disgusting,” Kim spat back, ire rising in her chest. “Judging people you don’t even know and…and…being so damn mean all the time! That’s all you are, mother! Mean and rude!”
Her voice was getting loud, and only the knowledge that she might be heard by the diner’s other patrons kept her from full-on screaming. Cordelia looked shocked, stunned into silence.
“You are not my daughter,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “A daughter of mine would never speak to me like that. After all I’ve done for you, making sure you’d have a good life…”
“A good life? You think I lead a good life, Mom? You think having an eating disorder all through high school, being afraid of screwing up all the time, always anxious ‘cause I’m not perfect, you think that’s a good life?”
“Well, it sure as hell keeps you from having a worse life! Would you rather be fat and stupid and have everyone laugh at you all the time? Be the butt of every joke? Anxiety keeps you from making mistakes, Kimberly. It keeps you from being a complete and utter embarrassment.”
Cordelia’s tone was haughty. Kimberly merely shook her head, awed by her mother’s gall. Swallowing hard and closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, calming herself. There was no point in arguing with this woman. She would never admit that her way wasn’t the right way – the only way.
“Just, please, Mom, come out and have lunch with us,” Kim said, releasing her hands from the fists she’d unconsciously formed. “Just sit down and have your tilapia. It’ll be nice, okay? You’ll see that Kennick is very nice. You’ll like him, really.”
Cordelia’s nose scrunched.
“I highly doubt that,” the older woman muttered. After a pause, she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Alright, just this once. Only because I don’t care what anyone in this awful town thinks of me. And because I don’t doubt it will be long before you see behind that handsome face of his and see that he’s no good, that no one like him will ever be good.”
Kim bit back the urge to scream once more, to stride from the bathroom and leave her mother in the diner, to grab Kennick and make out with him right in front of Cordelia’s beady, angry eyes. Instead, she followed her mother, who was still walking with a stick lodged firmly up her rear, back to the booth, where their food waited. So did Kennick, scrolling through his phone before smiling amiably at their return.
“It’s rude to look at your phone when you’re at the table,” Cordelia murmured, spreading her napkin over her lap before looking at the bland dish in front of her. As Kim squeezed past Kennick once more, she was relieved he didn’t try to get handsy again. The waitress had brought extra parmesan; a whole lot of it. Kim shook some out onto her salad while her mother stared in obvious disgust. When her hand stilled, shame nipping at her cheeks from her mother’s dire look, she felt Kennick elbow in her side.
“C’mon,” he said out of the side of his mouth, as though Cordelia were in another state rather than right across the booth. “You could always use an extra couple pounds, anyway. You know, for winter.”
Cordelia’s knuckles whitened around her fork, which held barely a bite of fish.
“It’s summer,” she said through gritted teeth. Kennick shrugged and grinned.
“Ever heard the story of the industrious ant and the lazy beetle?”
“Can’t say I have,” Cordelia said, popping the morsel into her mouth and chewing. If there was a way to chew indignantly, Cordelia was a master of it.
“It’s a good one,” Kennick said, digging into his own fragrant, messy-looking meal. Through huge mouthfuls, he told the story. Kim barely ate any of her salad, enraptured by Kennick’s hands as they moved with the story, the voices he used for each character. He was a good storyteller, even for a story as trite and old as the fable.
“It’s summer on the farm. Bright, big sun up there in the sky, not a chill in sight, all sorts of reasons to party. So that’s what the beetle’s doing, just partying his little brown butt off. Stays up all night singing to the moon, sleeps all day, or dances in the field, takes a nap when it gets too hot out…”
“Beetles don’t sing,” Cordelia interrupted, barely making a dent in her fish. “That’s grasshoppers. You’ve got the story wrong. It’s about a grasshopper and an ant.”
“Everything sings, Cordy. Just gotta know how to listen. Anyway,” Kennick continued, either immune to or unaware of the looks Cordelia and Kim were giving him over calling the woman “Cordy.”
“So the beetle couldn’t be happier. And one day, he sees a buddy of his. An ant. Now, every day he sees this ant and they say howdy-doo and all that. And every day that beetle sees the ant, the ant is pulling some big old morsel somewhere. Something that’s twice the size of him, you know? Corn kernels or sunflower seeds.
So this day, the beetle is feeling especially sociable, and he says, ‘what are you doing all day, breaking your back carrying that food to god-knows-where? C’mon and party with me, I know a place with lots of nice lil lady ants who’re just dying to meet a big strong ant like you.”
At that, Kennick flashed Kim the sort of smile that made her blush – a deep down blush.
“And the ant goes, ‘no can do, bud. Gotta work with the whole fam, stockpiling for winter.’ And the beetle says, ‘winter is forever away. Take a chill pill and come party!’ But the ant just shakes his head and off he goes. The beetle, he’s like, that kid is crazy. I’m gonna go get me three lady beetles. That’s how I stockpile for winter.”
Kennick shoveled the last of his tamale into his mouth and leaned back with a contented sigh. Cordelia was waiting, fork half raised to her mouth. To Kim’s amusement, her mother was actually interested in the story.
“And?” Cordelia asked, annoyance in her voice. Kim wondered if she was annoyed that Kennick had stopped mid-story, or that she was actually enjoying it.
“And what?” Kennick asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“And what happened? When winter came?” Cordelia asked, exasperated now.
“Oh,” Kennick said with a chuckle, taking the last sip of his coke. “The beetle starved and the ant lived. That’s not a very fun part of the story. I just like the beetle’s outlook. Poor guy just didn’t realize he could just leave, go someplace where winter wasn’t so tough. Florida or something. But he wasn’t a Rom beetle, so he didn’t know. Little guy went out laughing, though, I bet.”
Cordelia was looking at Kennick like he had four eyes and Kim was hiding her laughter, poorly, with her hand.
“What on earth,” Cordelia hissed, “does that have to do with gaining weight for winter?”
“Nothing,” Kennick shrugged. “It’s just a good story.”
Cordelia looked at Kim wide-eyed, as though to say is this supposed to impress me?
“Well,” Cordelia said, pushing her plate away even though she’d barely eaten half her food. She eyed Kim’s nearly-empty bowl of salad, and the much-depleted shaker of parmesan cheese. “I don’t think encouraging people to gorge themselves on cream and cheese is very smart. Especially not someone like Kim.”
All Kim’s mirth fell out of her in a rush. Leave it to Mom, she thought, knowing that anytime she thought she might have a bit of reprieve from her mother’s disappointment, she would surely be proved wrong soon enough.
“Beauty cannot be eaten with a spoon, Mrs. James,” Kennick said with a wink. Cordelia’s eyes nearly rolled backward into her head.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“If you have to ask, you’ll never know,” Kennick said. “You’re finished already?”
He pointed to her plate.
“Lost my appetite watching the two of you,” she said, and though Kim hated her in that moment, there was pain in Cordelia’s voice. The old woman suddenly looked very, very old as she put her hand on her forehead and bent her neck, looking down and shaking her head.
�
��Mom….” Kim said, though even as she spoke the word she knew she had nothing to truly say.
“I better get going,” Cordelia said, rising from her seat. “Traffic is just awful.”
“Well,” Kennick said, rising to meet her and sticking his hand out once more, “it’s been an absolute pleasure, Cordelia James.”
She sneered at his hand.
“No, it hasn’t, and you know it hasn’t, Kennick Volanis,” she spat and turned on her heel, clicking her way out of the diner, a trail of bad feelings stretching out behind her. Kennick shrugged when he turned back to Kim, but seeing her distress he felt a sudden, irrational rage towards the woman. He’d taken all her snide comments and upsetting criticisms in stride, but seeing Kim crumpling now was too much. His hands balled into fists, so hard his knuckles cracked.