Half-Truths

by Randileigh Kennedy

  Sure enough, moments later a surgeon with a squeaky voice came in. He was bubbly and kind, although he sounded like Kermit the Frog. No person saving your life should sound like Kermit.

  He introduced himself, and my brother and I tried not to giggle at his voice. “I’ve reviewed all the diagnostics, and unfortunately I wish I had some better news. Honestly, it’s one of the worst hearts I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot.”

  Who knew Kermit was such a downer.

  “Medically speaking, I’m not sure how you’re still alive. The condition of your heart is like that of a ninety-two-year-old man, not one belonging to someone in their fifties who is otherwise healthy,” he continued. “I don’t think we can help you here.”

  “This is a hospital. Where else is he supposed to get help?” I interrupted, unsure why no one was giving us some lists of options. Weren’t there medications or procedures that could fix this? My father looked perfectly healthy, yet every doctor seemed to be stating the opposite. It was a complete disconnect, and one I was not handling well.

  “We may be able to move you to another location, somewhere more specialized in handling the severity of this situation,” the doctor continued. “But some of my colleagues have looked over your case, and they agree that the prognosis is not good no matter where we move you. I think you need to spend this time with your family. If we can come up with an option, we’ll let you know. As of right now, the surgery is just too risky. We’re not sure how much time you have as your heart keeps stopping for seconds at a time, and we’re not sure exactly what can be done about that right now. So this may be a good time to gather your thoughts and spend time together.”

  My mom asked a bunch more questions, but I was somehow tuning her out even though I yearned for more information. I couldn’t process how this was happening to us. Spend time together? Doing what? Jumping out from behind curtains, or saying goodbye? What were we actually supposed to be doing?

  I felt so frustrated, and the entire thing felt heavy. The surgeon left, and my family—my wonderful, perfect family—sat together and cried. It’s amazing how one phone call can bring you to your knees in an instant. One moment you are in a picture, laughing together on the beach, and the next minute you are being asked to let someone go out of that frame. It was a cruel injustice, and I did not feel equipped to handle something so monumental. But I guess that was the point. No one is ever given the choice—otherwise such injustices wouldn’t exist.

  We wept together for what felt like an hour. Then we ate some ice cream. It was a completely pointless act on the surface; we all knew ice cream couldn’t save us from anything that might or might not happen. But during that moment we all smiled, and for the time being, that was enough.

  We filled the rest of the day with playing cards, telling old stories, and laughing as if it were any other day. Yet instead of being around the family dinner table or out enjoying the sunshine on the deck overlooking Lake Tahoe, we did it around a hospital bed. Somehow we were still able to joke and have fun, as if this situation was “normal” for us. By the time evening rolled around, visitors who had heard the news started rolling in. Relatives, neighbors, old family friends . . . The room started to feel crowded, and I needed some fresh air. My brother wanted to stay at the hospital for the night, so I said my goodbyes for the evening. I made my brother pinky swear he would call me immediately if anything happened, and I exited the hospital with my rolling purple suitcase.

  I thought about calling Brie for a ride home, but the idea of a late-night walk and some fresh air seemed necessary. My house was only about a fifteen-minute walk from the hospital, and I expected the solitude to clear my head. The sky was breathtaking, littered with stars as far as I could see, and it was the first time in twenty-four hours that I felt like things might be okay—simply because the world still looked beautiful to me. The universe was existing on its own, despite the doom swirling around those hospital walls, and I felt some sense of relief from that, no matter how little it made sense.

  As I walked, my mind wandered in ten different directions. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around my father in the hospital. The news was tragic and terrifying, yet he didn’t seem overly changed by it. He had a sense of calm I wouldn’t expect from someone in his condition. I couldn’t process that. I thought of my life back in Nashville—or what I had left of a life, anyway. I was still angry at Chris, or “Kip,” or whatever I was supposed to call him. For a brief period I was living in a dream world, writing songs with rising stars, dating a country hunk magazines declared the “next big thing.” It was only a few days ago that the entire thing had unraveled, but it felt so far away now.

  I smiled out of nowhere when I thought back to yesterday at the airport when Sawyer dumped his coffee on me. I was so overwhelmed with everything that I recalled acting kind of bitchy and crazy toward him, but I had so much on my mind at the time. He was extremely handsome and polite, and yet there I was, berating him for a stupid accident and chiding him for flying first class while I had to sit in the back of the plane. I was such a wreck. At least I wouldn’t have to relive that moment. Nashville was a big town, so I was pretty certain I wouldn’t have to worry about running into him again once I made it back home.

  Then I thought of Wes and the conversation we had this morning. I wasn’t sure why he had crept into my brain just now. Obviously running into him once didn’t help, but him showing up at the hospital was unexpected. And wanting to talk about what happened between us? Where had that come from? As badly as I wanted to get it all out, to say all the things I never got to say to him, I was also kind of glad that conversation had ended before it started. He’d already hurt me once. I didn’t need to relive it.

  Eventually I came up to Moonshine Park, just on the left side of the walking and biking paths near the main road. I spent countless days at that park, as both a child and a grown-up. During the day it was full of noise: crying, laughing, screaming children. At night it was free from all that noise and chaos. I used to stop by as a teenager and fly back and forth on the swings while I processed all my angst. I spent hours scribbling songs in the many notebooks I always carried around. In college I laid across the giant tire swing countless nights, trying to figure out my life. I stared up at the night sky, taking in the millions of stars overhead—constellations my father had taught me all about when I was a little girl. My father amazed me with what he knew, pulling out the telescope to show me Jupiter or forcing us outside for a backyard campout on the trampoline to watch meteor showers rolling through. Tonight, under these same stars I’d stared at so many times before, it felt like the perfect place to sort out my brain. It was exactly what I longed for: some peace and quiet to reflect on the chaos in my head.

  But apparently I wasn’t alone. Someone was already sitting in my favorite spot.

  Chapter 4

  I narrowed my eyes as I made my way toward the person on the swings, wondering if I knew who it was.

  “Oh, my gosh, you weren’t kidding. You really are homeless,” I said as I approached, confirming the shadow was a dressed-up version of Sawyer.

  “Yeah, but I like to wear nice suits when I sleep in parks so people pity me and put more money in my paper cup,” he replied.

  I smiled, taking him in as he said it. His hair was styled and his tanned skin glowed under the moonlight. I realized he was clean-shaven, and he looked far more handsome than I remembered from the airport. He was sitting on one of the swings that overlooked Lake Tahoe in the distance. There were many trees in the way, but the moon cast a perfect spotlight across the lake, illuminating a strip of sparkling water. This was usually my serenity spot. Normally I would’ve been irked that someone else was here, but strangely Sawyer being here didn’t bother me so much. “So, how is it that you found my park? And what are you really doing in Mountain Ridge, anyway?” I sat on one of the old rubber swings next to him, smiling at the familiar sound of the chain links clanking against the weight of my body. It was one of
my favorite sounds.

  “Well, I don’t want to seem like an overly exciting person, but I’m here for the convention on encopresis,” he said sarcastically. “It’s okay to be a little jealous.”

  “I’m sorry, what? I fell asleep when you said that gibberish word,” I teased.

  “That’s why I had to make a break for it tonight. It’s exhausting.” He laughed.

  “What about the next part of my question?” I pried. “Why did you come to the park? It’s not exactly a hot tourist destination.”

  “I don’t know. The name stuck in my head when you said it. I asked one of the local guys at the convention if he knew where this place was, and conveniently it was just a few minutes from my hotel. I figured I would get out for some fresh air. You were right; this is a great spot. I didn’t exactly expect you to be here, though.”

  “It didn’t cross your mind that it was a vague possibility?”

  His lips curled up into a smile. “I thought about it,” he admitted. “I still feel bad about the whole coffee thing. I thought if I ran into you again, maybe I would have the chance to make up for it.” He stared at me with his green eyes, and I was somewhat mesmerized by them, despite the circumstances surrounding my night thus far. The expression on his face was fun and carefree, which was a million miles away from my brain at the moment, yet I was pulled in by the way he looked like an escape from everything I was feeling.

  “I’m pretty sure I appeared to be a complete train wreck back at the airport, so I guess you’re here out of pity?” I speculated.

  “You’re feisty. That really stuck with me. I don’t know. I kind of liked it.” He shrugged. “You seemed pissed at me, but you were kind of smiling at the same time.”

  “I’m not all that feisty.” I laughed. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

  “I don’t know. You were pretty riled up. The tenacity in your voice struck me. It was sexy in kind of a scary way. Like maybe you were into me, but maybe you just wanted to throat-punch me and walk away.” He smiled again, and I stared back at him, in awe of his charm. He was a complete and total stranger, yet I didn’t want out of this conversation. Of course I couldn’t be further away from flirting at this point in my life. A man was the last thing I needed, especially since I hadn’t fully dealt with the last one I thought I was into before I left Nashville. I still had that mess to sort through.

  “I’m not so sure I can do this cute, witty banter thing right now,” I admitted, grinning back at him. “I’m a hot mess. My life is completely unraveling. I might insult your dog all over again before this conversation is over. Anything could happen.”

  “I already told you about his drool problem, not to mention he’s blind in one eye and constantly walks into furniture, so verbal insults are the least of his problems.” Sawyer smirked. “What’s your story? I gathered you’re from here but you live in Nashville now? So why are you back? Other than the encopresis convention, I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would want to come to Lake Tahoe in summer,” he teased.

  “Family emergency.” I shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light. “I’ll be here for only a week or so, then I’ll head back.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked politely, trying to gauge my expression as I spoke.

  “Not really,” I replied. “My dad’s sick. It doesn’t look good.” I choked back the emotion in my voice. “My family is really close, and I don’t know. It’s just hitting me hard. I feel like I can’t take a deep breath. I came out here tonight to escape from it for a bit.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said sympathetically. “Let’s talk about this park. It’s a great park. You spent a lot of time here growing up?”

  “Yeah, I used to,” I answered, nodding my head. “As a kid I used to come here all the time with my family. Then I became a teenager, which meant sneaking out with my friends late at night. We’d come here and drink bottles of Boone’s Farm and talk about how annoying our parents were and about how douchey the jocks at school were. Now, as an adult, it feels different, sitting on these swings, staring out at the lake. It’s like I’m supposed to be too grown-up and responsible to be here. Yet somehow I feel the opposite. I feel like I haven’t grown up yet, despite all of these stupid grown-up problems around me. I wish I were eleven again.”

  “Everything’s better when you’re a kid,” he agreed, looking out toward the water. “When I was really little, I was obsessed with pants. Like all the time, I just wanted to put on pants. Even when it was hot out, or when changing for bed, or even going to the city pool, my mom said I would freak out until I got to put on my favorite pair of pants. Now, as an adult, I’ve never been that happy putting on pants. Most days I don’t even want to put on pants at all.”

  I giggled. Then my mind wandered to thoughts of him with no pants. He actually looked like a guy you would see on an advertisement for boxer briefs.

  “You know what I mean, right?” he continued, interrupting my thoughts. “Adulting is never as much fun. It’s like you’re sold all these truths about being grown up, right? Like you can choose your own bedtime, eat anything you want, do anything you want. But grown-up life is so much darker than a kid’s make-believe version of it. You want to go to bed when you can’t, no one else is making snacks for you so you’re hungry all the time, and you have to wear pants when you don’t want to. It’s terrible.”

  “I feel like this is the part where you somehow get us to end up with no pants,” I joked.

  “Hey, you said it. You do whatever you want.” He laughed with his hands up in surrender.

  “Well, unfortunately I have an early morning.” I smiled, changing the subject. “So these pants are headed home. I imagine you have an early start at the nerd convention tomorrow?”

  “I have to be there by seven thirty if I want to sit in the front row, and you know I do,” he replied. “But maybe we can meet up here tomorrow night to escape from our real lives. Eight p.m.? I’ll bring the Boone’s Farm. Pants optional.”

  The look on his face was playful and sexy all at once. I thought for a moment he was kidding—just being quick and witty by referencing something from our earlier conversation—but he genuinely seemed to be waiting for an answer to his question.

  “I’ll give it some thought,” I responded, not totally sure it was even a good idea. With the current downward spiral of my life, it almost seemed like a nice distraction from it all. Like being in Brie’s car yesterday, singing loud with the wind in our hair, like we were infinitely sixteen. Maybe drinking cheap booze in the park with a handsome stranger was stupid enough to remind me that something in my life wasn’t completely grim. Unless that scene in itself was completely rock bottom. I couldn’t tell.

  I grabbed my bag and gave Sawyer an awkward wave goodbye.

  “Really, all that dialogue exchanged and I get a limp arm wave?” he teased. “I thought that enlightening conversation was more worthy of a fist bump or something. Maybe a secret handshake? An uncomfortable hug where neither of us knows who should let go first? I feel as though we can’t separate with such an impersonal gesture. We just spent four minutes swinging together. Our connection has to be deeper than a half wave.”

  “How do you say goodbye to people at your nerd convention at the end of the day?” I mused. “Maybe that will work for us.”

  “We usually go with lingering pats on the tush, but I think it’s too soon,” he joked. “We can just go with the half wave for tonight. That’s fine. Then we can up our game tomorrow night. Maybe a high five or something with sound. Just to keep in interesting.”

  “You are strange.” I giggled. “Look, if I don’t show up tomorrow night, don’t take it personally. I just have a lot going on.”

  “Nice—the polite excuse to get out of it before you stand me up. You are a lady.”

  “That’s not what I meant by it.” I laughed. “I just don’t know how tomorrow is going to go, that’s all.”

  “You and me bo
th. That’s the fun of it.”

  He smiled from ear to ear, and it was contagious. He slid his hands into his suit pockets, and part of me didn’t want to walk away from him, but I knew it was necessary. He was already clouding my judgment, and I wanted no part of where that led.

  “Good night, Sawyer Grant,” I stated, extending my fist toward him. He nudged it back and winked.

  “Good night, Whitley Rose.”

  I turned away from him and headed west down the bike path, making the short walk back to my parents’ place. Everything along the way looked the same as when I’d left. The log cabins appeared untouched, other than a new bright-red mailbox at old Mr. Earl’s place up the street from my parents’. He used to drive an ice cream truck, though I was unsure if that was still the case. The pine trees were just as tall and majestic as they always were, and the lake’s water looked as peaceful and perfect as it had throughout my entire youth.

  Even the shadow of the boy sitting on my front porch swing, rocking slowly under the night sky—that looked familiar too. I’d seen it a hundred times.

  Although tonight that shadow was not invited. It was unwanted. Unwelcome.

  So I continued walking, undetected, six houses past my own, as relentless tears began to fall.

  Chapter 5

  Brie quickly opened the door after my gentle knocking. She saw my tear-covered face and opened her arms. I hugged her back, and she led me out to the hammocks in her yard, overlooking Tahoe.

  “What happened?” she asked warmly as we each crawled into one of the hammocks side by side in her backyard. She technically still lived with her mom and stepdad, but her space was above a detached garage so it was like she had her own apartment. She’d paid to have the space renovated to add plumbing and a kitchen, and it was actually quite spacious and cute. She made a killing at the hair salon she worked at, and without rent, she saved most of it. She had big plans to buy a massive home on the lake someday, but those were an easy $3 million for what she had in mind, so she had quite a ways to go. That meant secretly she hoped to marry a rich Australian guy who would whisk her away to a new life. So $3 million or a hot, rich foreigner who looked like Thor—whichever came first.