by Kennedy Ryan
I stand to greet her, and she flings herself into my arms. My teeth grind together, and I bite back all the questions, the accusations, and instead, awkwardly pat her back.
“Where is she?” she asks, pulling away to search my face.
“They’re working on her now. They were pumping her stomach.” I hesitate. “The pills she took—it was a bottle of yours. Did you notice it was gone?”
Her eyes transform from wide and teary to slitted and enraged.
“You can’t be blaming me,” she snaps. “If this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”
She glances down to Lotus still seated in the waiting room chair.
“And hers.” She points one long finger at Lotus, her voice rising. “This was Simone’s cry for help, for attention. When she needed her father most, you came and ruined everything.”
“That’s enough,” I snap. “If you’re gonna point fingers at anyone, it should be at yourself, Bridge. You think it’s coincidence that Simone tried this the night your train wreck of a show aired? The very night you dragged all the shit that drove us into counseling in the first place back out? Have you considered that?”
“No, I haven’t, because I wasn’t the one missing in action when she needed me most. Where were you when she needed you? With her.” She jerks her head toward Lotus. “So get off your high horse, Kenan. Maybe we’ve both failed her lately, but at least she didn’t have to wonder if she was first with me.”
“God, that’s so unfair,” I say. “We’ve been apart for almost three years between separation and divorce, and this is the first time I’ve dated anyone.”
“But Simone wants us back together,” Bridget says. “Maybe now you’ll believe her.”
“We can’t do that. We can’t tailor the world to her like that, and you know it, but we can help her deal with reality. And you’ve undermined that at every turn, encouraging this fantasy that we might get back together.”
“I wish both of you would just shut the hell up,” Lotus says tonelessly from her seat.
Bridget and I stare down at her, our mouths gaping open.
“Excuse me?” Bridget’s hands go to her hips, and indignation jerks her brows up.
“I know what it’s like to think the adults are all crazy,” Lotus says, shaking her head. “To feel like no one is considering what’s best for you. She doesn’t need the two of you at each other’s throats. She needs you both by her side.”
Lotus takes my hand and looks up, holding my stare. “This isn’t about you, Kenan. It can’t be. It has to be about Simone.”
Her eyes cool, harden like volcanic rock when they shift to Bridget. “It’s not about who is wrong or right, because if it was, believe me, Bridget, you’d be wrong.”
“Who do you think you are?” Bridget takes a step closer to Lotus. Before I can insert myself between them, Lotus stands and, even several inches shorter, manages to look Bridget right in the eyes.
“I’m cutting you some slack because they’re shoving tubes down your daughter’s throat,” Lotus says, her tone darkening. “But you have one more time to put your finger in my face and step to me.”
Bridget draws a deep breath, but takes a step back, wisely retreating.
“Look,” Lotus says, her gaze moving between us. “This isn’t about me either. We all have sacrifices to make until Simone is better. I’ll do my part.”
What the hell does that mean? What sacrifices?
I’m about to ask her when the doctor comes down the hall and tells us we can finally see Simone. I follow the doctor, eager to see my daughter and to start the healing she needs. At the last minute, I turn back to the waiting room, intending to ask Lotus to wait for me.
But she’s already gone.
My first sight of Simone almost brings me to my knees. There’s a machine monitoring her vitals, and an IV running into one thin arm. The pallor of her skin, usually glowing golden, is a sickly grey.
Her heart is broken in her eyes.
How the hell did I miss that? That fathomless sorrow in my baby girl’s watery blue eyes—has it been there all along? What if we had been delayed coming from the airport? What if we’d gone to Lotus’s apartment instead of mine? What if I’d gotten stuck in typical New York traffic? A thousand scenarios fly through my mind like bats, the dark wings casting shadows on a day that could have ended with me standing in a morgue instead of in this hospital room.
“I’m sorry,” Simone croaks, tears rolling over her cheeks. “I just . . .” A sob shakes her, and she turns her head into the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Moni, it’s okay.” My voice comes out strangled, and I take a moment to compose myself. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”
“Yeah, rest,” Bridget says, stroking Simone’s hair back from her face. “We’ll talk about everything later.”
“I know I shouldn’t have done it.” Simone hiccups. “I just wanted it all to stop. The fighting, and the tweets, and the posts on Facebook. Some kids from school were tagging me. It all started again.”
Rage simmers under my expressionless face as I listen to how my daughter was tortured by our choices and insensitive people who didn’t stop to think how a careless tweet might push an emotionally fragile girl over the edge.
Bridget’s sob pulls me from my thoughts. She grips the bed railing so tightly her knuckles show white through the skin. I cover her hand. The same helplessness torturing me swims in her teary eyes. For once, we’re on the same page, though it’s a terrible one in our story—stained with our regret, dog-eared by our pain. To the two of us, Simone is everything. It’s the common ground we lost sight of on our battlefield. Neither of us speak, but at our daughter’s side, we broker a silent détente.
The door opens behind us, and Dr. Packer enters. All the times she told us to be careful, told us Simone wasn’t doing well, told us it wasn’t about us, twist through my memory. When I look into the therapist’s eyes, I don’t find judgement or censure. Only kindness and concern, but I don’t need her to condemn me.
I can do that to myself.
42
Lotus
“Kenan’s here,” Yari says from my bedroom door. “You sure about this?”
I stare unseeingly at the interview notes for next week’s gLO Up podcast. I’m not sure I’m ready to do what needs to be done. I may not be strong enough.
“Yeah.” I stand and walk past her. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Maybe not. Maybe you could—”
“I know what I’m doing, Ri.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to meet Pedro for dinner,” she says. “But if you need me to stay—”
“No, go. I’m good.” I force a smile and head toward the living room. She slips out and I brace myself for the conversation ahead.
As soon as I see him, I want to dash back to my bedroom and hide under the covers. I can’t do this. Who am I kidding? He’s magnificent. It’s not just the regal, raw-boned face, or the brutal beauty of his big body. The compelling sexuality. It’s the way those austere lines soften for me. Only for me. The love that blazes in his eyes. Only for me.
“Hey.” He stands from the couch and brackets my waist with his hands. I duck my head, avoiding his kiss. He stiffens and peers down at me, rubbing his hands over my arms.
“What’s wrong?” He cups my face, tracing my mouth with his thumb.
“Um, Kenan,” I start, then falter. My resolve, so steely and set before he came, wavers, melts with him standing so close. He burns right through it without even trying. He’s just standing here, being him, loving me. How do I turn away the man I love more than anything in this world?
“How’s Simone?” I ask, putting a few inches between us so I can think.
His expression shutters, but not before I detect the pain and guilt there. “She’s recovering well, physically.”
Everything is tight. The hard slope of his shoulders. The corners of his mouth. The hands knotting at his sides. “There’s a three-day hold o
n . . .”
He clears his throat before he ejects the next words.
“Suicide attempts,” he says, his thick brows jerked into a frown. “There’s a psych eval and then . . . we’ll see. She, uh, apparently told Dr. Packer she’d like to move back to Cali and live with me. Since she’s only a month into the school year, it shouldn’t be too hard to enroll in her old school. Get back to her old routine.”
I go still, searching his face for clues. “And what about Bridget?”
“She’ll stay in New York to finish Baller Bae,” he says, a sardonic twist to his lips, “and then come back to San Diego. Since I’ll be on the road so much for the season, I asked my mom if she might be willing to move in with us and give Simone some stability.”
His every word only solidifies that my instincts were correct. And on some level, he’ll agree with me, but not at first. Not yet. I have to convince him.
“Kenan,” I say, forcing myself to look up and meet his eyes. “I think we need some time apart. A break.”
He doesn’t blink or even seem to breathe for a few seconds. I expect an explosion once my words have sunk in, but instead he meets my words with implacable calm. “No.”
One word lands with blunt force in the room, but there’s a subtle tightening where he touches me, on my arm, at my face, like he’s prepared to hold on if I try to pull away.
But I have to pull away. “Yes, Kenan, I—”
“I said no,” he cuts in. His mouth settles into a hard line. His face is a stone wall. His eyes, black diamonds, are sharp enough to cut through glass. “No break. No time apart.”
“You haven’t heard me out.”
“What the fuck could you possibly say to make me believe I shouldn’t be with you?” he demands, his voice finally gaining heat, volume.
“Simone not only needs you, Kenan, she needs you to be apart from me.” I pull out of his hands, turn my back on him. “Especially if she’ll be living with you. It doesn’t have to be forever. It can be—”
“Not only is it not forever,” he shouts behind me, “it’s not at all. This is ridiculous, Lotus.”
I whirl around to face him. I can get loud, too. I can get mad. Anger is easier to deal with than the ache even the thought of walking away from him brings.
“Your daughter tried to kill herself, Kenan.” I pound my chest. “At least in part because of me. Because of us. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“Lo—”
“Me,” I slice in, our voices clashing like swords. “The girl whose mother chose another man, an awful man, over her.”
“If you would—”
“Me, who never felt first with my mother, who always wondered why she didn’t love me more than she loved him. I can’t do that to another little girl.”
“This is so completely different from your situation,” he fires back. “You think I’m not worried? You think I’m not broken after this? Simone almost . . .”
His voice withers and he exhales a quick breath. I can almost see the emotions roiling inside him, sloshing against his insides, close to spilling out.
“If she had died, a part of me would have, too,” he says, his voice subdued, despairing. “And we have a lot to fix, but us separating wouldn’t fix those things, and what you went through is not what she’s going through. You didn’t abuse anyone. Hurt anyone. What’d you do wrong? Love me? Want me?”
“I’m not saying it’s exactly the same. I’m saying I know how she feels.” I blink at burning tears. “Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to do what she did? To end my life if that would make the pain stop?”
“I’m so sorry, Lotus,” he groans, linking his hands on his head and looking up at the ceiling. “But you have to see this isn’t the same.”
“I’m not talking about the reality of what we’ve done, of our situation. I’m talking about how she sees it. How it feels to her, which is all that matters right now.”
The laser probe of his stare snaps back to my face. “And you think us breaking up will make everything better?”
“I think us taking a break,” I emphasize, “while she gets the help she needs could make her feel like she’s first with you, and that’s what she needs from you and Bridget. To feel like she’s your priority. Like you’d do anything for her, even stop seeing someone.”
“I don’t agree, and I’m not giving you up.” He takes my arm. “Why would you leave me now when I need you so much?”
There’s such dismay in his question, such an ache in his voice. It pricks my heart like a needle, passing through the beating muscle and piercing my soul. I love him with everything. My heart, my soul, my body, my mind. There is no part of me he hasn’t laid siege to. I’m an occupied city. Completely his.
And yet, I keep wondering if my mother felt so consumed by a man, even an evil man, that she couldn’t do the right thing. Couldn’t do the thing that needed to be done. Couldn’t let him go when she needed to, when she had to, but chose her own desires, right or wrong, over her child.
“We’re the adults,” I force myself to say, even though my voice shakes, my resolve shakes. “I’m not saying it’s forever.”
I meet the outraged disbelief, the refusal of his stare.
“I can’t be away from you forever,” I say softly. “You already know that, Kenan, but I am saying for now, for her, let’s just step away from this. At least for the season. As if basketball isn’t enough of a distraction while you’re negotiating this, you don’t need me, too.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says. “I need you so bad.”
He pulls me into him by my wrist, and the smell of him, the heat of him, seduces me. I close my eyes and savor the light press of our bodies together. I imagine the grind, how it feels when he’s buried inside of me. When will I have that again?
“I want it, too,” he whispers in my ear his hand sliding to my ass. “What you’re thinking about right now. What you’re remembering. I want to fuck you, too.”
“Kenan, don’t.” It’s a pathetic protest overshadowed by the way my body throbs with him so close.
“I love you,” he says, his voice a wisp of sound and breath over my lips before he captures them with his. His tongue hunts for mine, seeking, seizing. My convictions fade, and I kiss him back. He groans, his hands fumbling between us and under my dress. His unfailing fingers find me through my panties.
“God,” he breathes, pressing his temple into mine. “You’re soaked.”
“Kenan, we can’t.” I say it, but my hips roll into the urgency of his hand. My clit flowers under his fingers.
“Why can’t we?” He kisses my neck, sucks the curve hard, and walks us a few feet back until my back hits the wall. “You’re mine.” He unzips his jeans and hoists me up by my thighs, pressing me into the wall.
“Did you forget?” He asks, his voice gruff, graveled. “You said you belong to me. Are you a liar?”
“No. You know I’m yours, but we need to do this for her. Can’t you see that?”
“This is what I see. What I know.” He jerks my panties aside and plunges inside of me like a warrior charging into battle.
“Oh, my God.” I can’t resist the call of our bodies fused together, and I rock into him, heedless of my intentions, damning my plan. My pussy clenches around him, possessive, demanding.
“That’s it. Fuck me, Lotus,” he breathes into the paltry space left between us while our aggressive thrusts thump my back into the wall. “Tell me whose you are, whose I am.”
I score my nails across his head, sink my fingers into his neck with a ferocious desire borne from desperation. When this is over, I’ll make him go, and I’m not sure when I’ll have him again.
“My beloved is mine,” I quote, my head thrown back, tears slipping from under my closed eyes. “And I am his.”
“Again.” His hands tighten under my thighs and he slams into me, the churning of our bodies furious, frantic. “Tell me again.”
“My beloved is
mine and I am his.” The words come louder, harder as my climax builds.
“Again! Tell me.”
“My beloved is mine and I am his,” I scream so loud the words scrape my throat and ricochet off the walls.
“How dare you think you can take this from us?” he growls into my neck. “A fucking break? There’s no break. No separation. Tell me again.”
“Oh, God. I’m yours, Kenan.” I shake against him with my sobs, with the orgasm thundering through my body even as I weep. “You know I’m yours.”
“And I have found the one whom my soul loves,” he quotes back to me, his voice crashing into the curve of my neck. He comes, a roar strangled in his throat. A growl dying on his lips as he loses his breath with the force of his release.
We stay that way for long minutes, me pinned to the wall, my legs wrapped around him, his hands gripping my thighs. I relish the wet evidence of our love, our passion. I hate that it’s already sliding out of my body. Lost on my thighs. I want to hold him inside me forever.
“Don’t leave me, Lotus. God, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead into mine. “Not now. Not ever, but not now.”
“But it has to be now,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, baby, but it has to be now.”
I drop my legs, but he doesn’t move, keeping me pinned to the wall. I poke at his chest, but my strength is puny beside his, and he doesn’t move. I look up at him through my lashes and starch my will.
“Move,” I say firmly. “Go.”
“No.”
“You can’t stay here forever,” I reason. “At some point you have to go. You’re just delaying the inevitable. The sooner you focus on Simone, the sooner we can . . .”
“The sooner we can get back together?” He pushes my hair back and traces the shell of my ear. “We’re not breaking up.”
“Kenan.” I blow out a frustrated breath. “We are. For now, we are. It’s not forever, but it needs to happen. She failed this time. I doubt she wanted to succeed. She did it in your apartment, in your bedroom, knowing you’d be coming home. But what if she still feels like she’s not getting your attention? What if she does it again?”