CHAPTER SIX
2016
Devin
Kylie’s twenties had held the pivotal moments of her life. The pieces that would define her as a person, the things I had helped her get through, with friendship and love.
For me, it was my thirties.
Losing the apartment I had called home for ten years of my life was just the beginning. Kylie caught me before I could fall, and I moved in immediately. We quickly settled into a routine, and it was comfortable. If I’m being honest, living with her actually helped to quell those feelings of lust I held for her. Because, while I couldn’t touch her in the ways I desperately wanted to, I started and ended my days with her, and most days, that felt like almost enough.
Almost.
♪
“You came home late last night,” she called from the kitchen. The microwave whirred over her voice.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry if I woke you up,” I replied, instantly feeling guilty.
“It’s fine.” The microwave beeped. “I just hope it was good for you. I mean, I was grateful that you didn’t bring her back here at least. I slept like a freakin’ baby thanks to you.” I closed my eyes and groaned at the remark.
Sometimes I hated myself for the dates I went on. Sometimes I hated that she went out with other guys. But would it have been fair to assume either of us should abstain just because we lived together?
Trent told me I should just tell her how I felt, but after so long, there was nothing good that could come from that if she didn’t share my feelings.
“Okay,” Kylie said, dropping next to me on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “What are we watching?”
“I downloaded Sinister last night,” I said, leaning forward to grab the remote from the coffee table. “And since I know that one made you shit yourself—”
“I did not,” she argued, slumping against the cushions with a pout.
“You kind of did, but, whatever. Anyway, I also downloaded Sharknado, so after you’re sufficiently freaked out, we can watch something light,” I explained, as I kicked my feet up.
She wobbled her head, pursing her lips with a look I knew to be satisfactory. “Okay, that works.”
I hit play and leaned back against the couch, lifting my arm for her to tuck herself under. I knew she would, and she did, settling against my side with half of her face hidden. The opening scene rolled, and I inclined my head toward hers, when she abruptly sat up.
“Why’d you move? I was getting comfortable,” I complained.
“I forgot to tell you what I was thinking about today,” she said, and with a sigh, I hit pause.
“Yes?”
She laced her fingers together and grinned. “I think we should get a cat.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “A cat?” I had never been a cat person, until I caught a glimpse of the black cat she had tattooed to her hip. “Why a cat?”
“Well, they’re pretty self-sufficient, and you have to really work for their affection as opposed to—”
“As opposed to the unconditional love you instantly get from dogs?” I teased with a quirk of my lips.
She rolled her eyes. “We can’t have a dog here, you know that. I just think it’d be nice to have a pet around, you know? I haven’t had one since I was a kid, and—”
“Yeah, neither have I,” I added, considering the idea. “You’re off work tomorrow, right?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, biting her lip excitedly.
“So am I.”
♪
And that was how we found ourselves at an animal shelter the next morning, sitting on the floor of a sterile room, with kittens climbing all over me. It was like I was a living jungle gym, and I was loving every second of it. Little balls of tabby and calico clawed at my arms and mewed their battle cries as they clambered down my back.
And then there was the little black ball of fluff, playing with the long, curly ends of Kylie’s hair.
“That one likes you,” I said, nudging my head toward her back.
“He’s been doing that for the past five minutes,” she said, shaking her hair and teasing him. “What does he look like? I haven’t even seen him yet.”
I glanced back at the little guy and noted his puffy, jet-black fur. He quickly looked at me before returning to his task of attacking her hair, and I saw his blue eyes.
“Huh,” I said, startled, and held out my hand. The kitten took an interest and walked over to sniff at me. His velvety nose touched my finger, and I greeted him with a, “Hey buddy.”
Kylie caught sight of his black fluff and clapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she gushed out, and she gently ran her fingers over his back as she squealed, “He’s so tiny!”
The little kitten crouched, wiggled his butt, and jumped onto my thigh. He took a seat, turned his fluffy face upward to study me, and I laughed. “Okay, I have to admit. He’s probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“So, what do you think?” she asked, scratching behind his ears.
The little guy vibrated against my leg with a rumbling purr as she pet him, and I couldn’t deny how right it felt just to look at him. Like I’d known him my entire life. I knew that feeling, from a long time ago, and I looked up to Kylie.
“He needs a name.”
She turned to the shelter volunteer, waiting at the door, and asked, “Excuse me, is this kitten a boy or girl?”
The older woman walked over to pick him up off my lap and I missed him immediately. She looked under his tail and said, “We have a little boy here,” as she put him back on my leg. He turned once, twice, and laid down, curling himself into a little ball of black. My heart melted, and I lifted a hand to cover half of my face.
“Goddammit, what are you doing to me?” I asked him with a chuckle.
“I’d say he’s turning you into a cat guy,” Kylie teased, grinning triumphantly.
And reluctantly, I had to agree.
♪
“What about Shadow?”
“Every black cat is named Shadow.”
“Not every black cat is named Shadow,” I protested, watching him inspect every corner of the living room. He made the space look enormous, and I laughed as he batted at the end of Kylie’s blanket on the couch.
“What about … Ichabod?”
“As in, Sleepy Hollow?” I asked, quirking a brow.
She nodded. “Yeah, what do you think of that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t hate it, but he doesn’t look like an Ichabod to me.”
She sighed, and I sighed, and I wondered if it was a good thing I was already well into my thirties without any prospect of children on the horizon. Because, bestowing the name someone would be stuck with forever, was nothing to take lightly.
Then, he jumped onto the coffee table, and proceeded to nudge a Van Halen CD case onto the floor.
“Hey,” I scolded, jumping up from my chair to take the case away. “You don’t disrespect Eddie like that,” I said, and the little blue-eyed kitten looked up at me as something clicked into place.
I turned to Kylie, who was already looking at me with the same expression of recognition. “Eddie,” I said, and she nodded. “Like, Eddie Van Halen.”
“And Edgar Allan Poe,” she said, pressing her hands together. “Oh God, can you imagine? We could name him Eddie Van Allan Poe.”
“Or, what about Edgar Allan Van Halen?”
Her brilliant blue eyes sparkled. “I love it so much.”
I nodded, and grinned. “Yeah, me too.”
♪
Life is full of ups and downs. Right after the high of adding Eddie to our apartment and our little family, Kylie left home the next evening to go on a date with some guy she met at the library. I grumbled my way through a quick dinner of microwavable macaroni and cheese, and was about to sit on the couch when my phone rang.
“Answer that, will you?” I asked Eddie, but he just continued to attack a toy mouse. Realizing he wouldn’t be much help, I reached over to the en
d table and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Devin, where are you?” It was my father, coming through the speaker in a panicked hurry.
My reaction was to drop the macaroni and cheese to the coffee table and stand up. “At home. Why? What’s up?”
“Your grandfather fell taking a shower a little while ago. We’re taking him to the hospital.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said with a heavy-weighted sigh. “Is he okay? Is he—”
“He’s got a good-sized gash on his head, the paramedics say he has a mild concussion and we’re pretty sure his hip is broken. We’re waiting on the X-rays.” Pop fell silent for a moment before adding, “Dev, he can’t be alone anymore. This has to be it.”
I nodded solemnly, bringing a hand up to my forehead. “Yeah, I know,” I said in a gravelly voice. “What hospital are you going to? I’ll meet you there.”
♪
My grandfather—who insists we, the grandkids, call him Billy to keep him from feeling old—was a rockstar. An actual rockstar. Once upon a time, he had toured with the greatest artists in blues, opening for people I would’ve killed to see live just once in my life. The man was also legendary in his own right, a musical powerhouse, and he was my hero.
And now, he was lying in a hospital bed, frail and weak.
“You can’t make me leave my house,” he told my dad, twisting his wrinkled old lips into a snarl like my father was the enemy for wanting him to be safe.
“Dad, this is the third fall in the past year,” Pop tried to reason with him.
“So what? I’m clumsy,” Billy snapped, crossing his arms. The IV line restricted his movement and he tugged. “Can one of you get one of those nurses to take this thing out of my arm, for crying out loud?”
“Billy,” my mom chimed in from beside his bed. She took his hand and patted his arm. “You need to settle down, okay?”
“Why? Because I’m old and in the hospital? What the hell do you think is going to happen to me? You think I’m going to break?”
I pressed a fist to my mouth, stifling my chuckle.
“Well,” Pop said, “you did break your hip.”
“Don’t be a wise guy,” Billy retorted with a sour glare at my father. “And you’re not making me leave my fucking house,” he added, just to ensure we knew he wasn’t keen on the idea.
I hung my head and stepped out into the hallway echoing with monitor beeps and the footfalls of nurses. I settled into an uncomfortable chair a few feet from his room, and I dropped my elbows to my knees.
The third fall this year. Every fall had been another roll of the dice. The first wasn’t bad; he’d twisted his ankle while my parents were visiting. The second was worse, resulting in a laceration to the head and a few stitches. But this? This was bad, and I knew as well as anybody, that they would only get worse, if he were left unsupervised.
But that house … He had lived there with my grandmother for fifty-something years before she passed away. For him to leave that place, meant for him to leave those memories behind, and I could only imagine that, for him, it felt an awful lot like letting her go.
My hands blanketed my face as I heaved out a leaded sigh. Worry pricked at my brain and an ache pinned holes through my heart. I hated this, watching the man who bought me my first guitar get older. I hated watching him become more human and less like Superman.
A set of footsteps walked hurriedly toward me, and thinking it was my mother, I dropped my hands from my face to see Kylie. Dressed and made-up for her date with her purple hair curled and framing her face.
“I came as soon as I got your text,” she said, sitting beside me and pressing a hand to my hunched back.
I shook my head, immediately feeling guilty for ruining her night. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Yes,” she insisted, nodding. “Yes, I did.”
I couldn’t help the tickle of triumph, knowing she’d leave her date for me, until I reminded myself that she’d only done it out of concern. “Well, I’m sorry for ruining your date.”
“Oh, stop it. Nothing is more important than you, and you know that,” she said gently. “How’s Billy doing?”
“Not great,” I said, rubbing a hand against my chin. “It’s not safe for him to be at home anymore and we’re going to need the army to get him out of there.”
“He has a lot of memories in that house,” she replied, melancholy coating her voice.
“I know. That’s what makes this so fucking hard. Pop’s probably gonna have to force him, and it doesn’t feel fair,” I said, placing my hands on the armrests and squeezing until my fingers shook. “He should be allowed to make the decision for himself; he’s not a fucking child. But … he’s a danger to himself now, so here we are.”
Kylie placed her hand over mine. The silk of her skin contrasted with the roughness of my own, and the tension in my limbs dissipated. Just a little, but enough for my fingers to ease their grip.
“Can I talk to him?” she asked, and I shrugged, because what harm could it do?
So I showed Kylie to his room. She gave Billy a small wave from the doorway and he shooed my mother away before beckoning Kylie over to the side of his bed.
“Get over here, darlin’,” he said, and she shot me a hopeful look before walking over and taking a seat. “You came all the way here to see me?” He laid his palm open on the bed—an invitation.
She took his hand and my heart puddled in my chest. “Devin told me you were hurt, so I came to see if you were okay,” she said.
He scoffed. “Of course, I’m okay. Don’t listen to these people. I lived through some of the craziest shit when I was on the road. A little fall in the shower isn’t gonna stop me.”
Kylie laughed. “I didn’t doubt it for a second.”
Mom and Pop took that as their cue to grab some coffee from the cafeteria. Pop told me on his way out that Trent and his parents were on their way to the hospital, and they would meet them in the lobby. The room was left to the three of us, and I cautiously walked to Billy’s side, sitting in the chair my father had occupied.
“So, um … Devin tells me Mr. O’Leary wants you to leave your house,” Kylie mentioned gently, and I braced myself for his backlash. She didn’t waste any time cutting to the chase, and I hoped he wouldn’t feel attacked, for her sake.
But to my surprise, Billy only sighed and nodded. “Seems that way. They don’t think I can handle myself anymore,” he told her, and then he inclined his head, adding, “I think they might be right.”
Kylie smiled gently. “You had a good, long run in that house.”
He nodded. “That, we did.”
We. I dropped my eyes to his hospital blanket, draped over his lap, and I thought about my grandmother. She was a bohemian queen in long dresses and flowing white hair. She sang along with his guitar, baked the best cookies in stereotypical grandma fashion, and she was his number one fan. They were soulmates, and I couldn’t begin to imagine how alone he felt without her.
My jaw clenched, and I coughed, needing to stand up and look out the window. My reflection was paled and somber, and I continued to listen to their conversation, watching the window’s replication of Kylie, with her pretty face and purple hair.
“If I’m being honest, darlin’,” he continued after a few seconds, “it stopped being my home when my wife passed on, but who wants to give all of that up, you know?”
Kylie nodded, and in the reflection, I saw the twitching of her lower lip. “Yeah, I do. I think that’s what happened to my mom, after my dad died. I mean, that house is still set up as though he just left.”
Billy nodded. “It’s hard.”
“It is. I mean, Devin knows. That year after Dad died, I could barely get out of bed unless he was there, dragging me by my ankles. Right, Dev?”
Clearing my throat, I turned from the window to face her and nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” How could I forget?
“I was drowning in that house,” she told him, and I watched her relive tha
t dark year as her eyes shadowed with the memories. “I still feel terrible for everything that happened with my mom, but I had to get out of there, or else it would’ve killed me. And it took getting away, to realize that all of those things, are just things. I mean, I adore his old stuff, like the Coca-Cola glasses he used to love, and his Stephen King books, but …” She shook her head and sighed. “My dad’s not in that house. The memories I have of him aren’t contained in there. I took them with me and I can tell you right now, getting out of there was the best thing I could’ve done for myself.”
Billy turned to glance at her, smirking. “So, what you’re saying is, I should do what they’re telling me and get out of my house?”
“No,” Kylie smiled. “I think you should be allowed to make your own decisions—you’re an adult after all. But, what I am saying is, it’s just a house,” she said quietly, “and you take your memories with you.”
♪
When my parents returned to the room, Billy agreed to go into a nursing home. He didn’t tell them why he’d changed his mind, and he never promised to not be a pain in the ass during the move, but he agreed nonetheless.
Kylie left the hospital before I did, and when I got home, I found her sleeping on the couch with Eddie curled up in the crook of her arm. The book she was reading, a collection of O’Henry’s work, was laid out over her lap, and I smiled as I grabbed the blanket she kept on the couch. I laid it over her and stood there for a moment, watching her sleep.
I thought about my grandfather and what he’d said. That his house stopped being a home when my grandmother passed on, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to leave this apartment, after knowing what it was like to live with her.
How could anywhere feel like a home after that?
PART TWO
Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine—
Daisies & Devin Page 9