A Kiss For You

by Rachel Van Dyken

“I told you to fucking get out of town, dude. You knew he was coming.”

  “Yeah, and when you told me that, I didn’t care if he came right up to my front door, guns-a-fucking-blazing.”

  “But now?” Bear asked.

  King nodded to me.

  “Ah. I see. What do you want to do, man? Your call. You know I’m behind you no matter what.” Bear lit a cigarette.

  “I think we go on the offense,” King said.

  “Wait, what does all this mean? Who is Isaac?”

  King ignored me. “I’ll get her to Grace’s before then,” he told Bear.

  “King, who the fuck is Isaac? Who the fuck is Grace?” I shouted, jumping up and down to make my presence in the conversation known.

  “Pup, when Preppy took you out with him, did he tell you that when he and I started the granny operation, we cut out our main supplier?”

  “Yeah. He did.”

  “Well, Isaac, was that supplier.”

  “Shit,” I said.

  Bear took a long drag of his cigarette and blew out the smoke through his nose, looking very much like the bird recently tattooed on King’s hand. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  “What you heard was a warning,” King said.

  “What kind of warning?” I asked.

  Bear stubbed out his cigarette into the concrete of the retaining wall. “The kind that goes boom.”

  “What was blown up?”

  Preppy’s wail broke through the air like another explosion.

  “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY MOTHERFUCKING CAR?”

  Doe

  Any sign of the playful version of King from lunch were gone. He gave me ten minutes to get ready and get my ass in the fucking truck.

  I didn’t know where we were going, and something about the way he’d barked it at me made it clear he didn’t exactly want me to ask.

  We traveled together in a silence so heavy it had its own presence in the truck. Like an uninvited guest, it awkwardly sat between us on the bench seat. We turned down a narrow, dirt road. My curiosity piqued when King pulled over to the side of the road next to the gate of a yellow ranch style home with a short, white picket fence lining the front yard.

  “Let’s go,” King said.

  Getting out of the truck, he unlatched the gate and started up the cement walkway. I followed behind him, jogging to catch up to him and match his long strides. Several pinwheel lawn ornaments spun as we passed them, our motion creating the only breeze in the stagnant heat of the day. I thought that maybe King was making a pickup for Preppy, and that this was another one of their Granny Growhouses that I had not yet seen.

  When we reached the door, King didn’t knock, just shoved it open and walked inside. For a split second, my heart skipped a beat because I thought that maybe he was robbing the place, but I quickly squashed that idea when I heard him call out, “Grace?”

  Grace. I recognized the name from earlier.

  I followed him into the house and closed the door behind me. When I turned back around, I came face to face with a thousand tiny eyes staring back at me. The small living room was covered with them. From the plant shelves to the buffet style table in the entryway to the coffee table and on top of the old TV, ceramic rabbits of all shapes and sizes were everywhere.

  King didn’t pay them any attention as he strode through the living room to the sliding glass doors on the back of the eat-in kitchen where large stuffed rabbits occupied all six chairs of the table like they were about to enjoy a meal together.

  I guess Grace likes rabbits.

  “Out here!” shouted a high-pitched, yet scratchy voice.

  King held the sliding glass doors open so I could pass, but he didn’t step aside. I had to brush against his chest to get through. In my attempt to touch him as little as possible, I stumbled outside onto a wooden deck where a little woman with pixie–style, gray hair sat in a plush navy-blue deck chair. Her feet were resting on top of the table, crossed at the ankles. She drank out of a tall glass with light green liquid. A leaf floated on the top of the ice.

  Instead of asking me who I was, she stood up and brought me in for a hug. She was easily in her seventies, and wore a denim-colored sweater, matching pants, and white orthopedic shoes.

  “I’m Grace,” she said, pushing me far enough away that she could study my face, but keeping her hands on my elbows.

  “Hi.” I wasn’t sure what the protocol was about introducing myself to her, but King solved that problem for me.

  “This is Doe.”

  “What an unusual name. What does it mean?”

  I looked to King, and he nodded. “Doe as in Jane Doe,” I told her.

  “Are your parents into true crime novels, or are they hippies who fried their brains on too much acid? Lots of them peculiar types around here. Although I’ve never met you before, so I don’t believe you’re from Logan’s Beach.”

  “I’m not sure what my parents are into, ma’am.”

  Grace looked at me quizzically and then over to King, who was still standing in the doorway. He shrugged.

  “You’re letting all the bought air out over there,” Grace scolded King. “Come out here. Sit. Have a drink.”

  Grace waved King over and tugged me to a chair. She poured us both a glass of the green liquid from the glass pitcher on the table.

  “I hope you like mojitos!” she exclaimed, finishing her drink and pouring herself another.

  I took a sip. The ice clinked against my front teeth. The drink was both sweet and bitter, but under the heat of the noon sun, it tasted heavenly.

  Thankfully, my sunburn was fully healed, and I no longer needed to hide in the shade. Nor did I resemble a ripe tomato.

  King took the seat next to me and across from Grace.

  “What you got for me?” Grace asked King.

  He laughed and shifted in his seat. He removed a small black plastic bag from his pocket and slid it across the table.

  “Thank you, sweet boy,” Grace said, hugging the bag to her chest. She set it down on the table and turned to me. “So, how did you two kids meet? Tell me everything.”

  “Um…” I had no idea how to answer her, so I started with the truth. As I spoke, it became like word vomit of epic proportions, and I couldn’t stop it from barreling out of my mouth. “Well Grace, we met on the night I decided to sell myself for a hot meal and a place to sleep. I was about to suck this guy’s dick when he realized I was being skittish about the whole thing and threw me out. Then, my friend, who was a hooker, stole some money from him. Then, she shot me, or grazed me, or whatever. Then, he found my only friend dead in a hotel room with a needle in her arm, but that was before I escaped. Then, he killed my would-be rapist and brought me back to his house for a bath and a conversation about how I was now his possession and didn’t have a choice about it.”

  I stopped and looked up at Grace whose glass was paused mid-air.

  King cleared his throat. “She came to my coming home party.” It was the truth, but he was leaving out all the cringe-worthy details I’d just laid out for her. Grace set her glass down and threw her head back in laughter.

  “I don’t think you two could be any cuter together,” she said, ignoring everything I’d just told her. “I’m so glad you found someone, dear boy. I’d missed you so much while you were gone, and I prayed every single day that you would find someone who made you as happy as my Edmund made me.” Grace turned a small silver band on her ring finger.

  “We’re not—” I started, but King put his arm over my chair and tugged me into him.

  “I wanted you to meet her,” he said, running his thumb against the side of my neck in an unexpected sign of affection.

  Show or not, my skin came alive under his seemingly innocent touch, and I’m pretty sure I gasped out loud because King’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Grace stood and rounded the table. Pausing above King, she kissed him on the top of the head.

  “You’ve made this old woman very happy,” Grace sa
id, wiping a tear from under her eye. She sniffled and clasped her hands together. “I’m going to start dinner. Doe, darling, would you like to help me?”

  “Sure,” I said, standing up from the table.

  I still wasn’t entirely sure why we were there, but I liked Grace, and having someone else besides the three tattooed amigos around was a nice change. She had a grandmotherly thing going on that set you at ease the moment she opened her mouth. I was going to enjoy it while I could until I had to go back to the house with Mr. Mood Swings.

  “I’ve got stuff in the truck,” King said, hopping down off the deck and disappearing around the side of the house. Grace led me into the kitchen and took out ingredients for pasta with meatballs. She moved one of the stuffed rabbits so I could sit at the table and chop vegetables while she used her hands to mix together all the ingredients for the meatballs.

  “How do you know King?” I asked, chopping green peppers onto a cutting board. I used the knife to wipe them into a bowl and started on the onions.

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “He doesn’t say much,” I admitted.

  “Man of few words, that one,” Grace said warmly. “I’ve known Brantley since he was a snot-nosed middle schooler. He tried to steal from my garden one day. He wasn’t a day over twelve.”

  “Brantley?”

  “He really doesn’t tell you anything, does he?” Grace cast me a sideways glance.

  “What did you do when you caught him?” I was curious about how King forged a relationship with a lady three times his own age.

  “I got a switch off the tree, just like my mama would have done, ripped his jeans down past his little, white butt, and whipped some sense into him,” Grace said, casually as she rinsed a tomato under the tap and dried it with a paper towel.

  “No, you didn’t!” I said, half in disbelief and half because I couldn’t imagine this little sprig of woman giving King a spanking.

  “Yes, I sure did. Then, Edmund called Brantley’s mom while I made dinner, but she didn’t answer. Edmund left a message, but his mom never came. So, he stayed for dinner. Then, he stayed the night. He’s come over every Sunday since. Well, every Sunday he hasn’t been mixed up in something or sitting in prison. In that case, we went to him.”

  “You knew he was in prison?”

  “Of course. Visited him every week. And when my Edmund died, that little boy came to his funeral wearing a green tuxedo he bought from the thrift shop that was three sizes too big. I’ve offered to let him live here a thousand times, but that boy was never one who could be contained. He chose to stay out there, do what he does, and he comes to take care of me and the house in between.”

  “So, you know…everything?”

  Grace nodded. “Not the nitty gritty details but I’m no dimwitted woman. I know my boy isn’t exactly walking on the right side of the law. But I know that I love him like a son, and he loves me like his mama so that’s all that matters to me.” Grace didn’t pause when she continued. “Love is what you would do for the other person, not what you do in general. There is no doubt in my mind that he would throw his life down for me. I would do the same without hesitation.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of green peppers. “I also know that everything you said out there, about how you two met, is true.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

  Grace sighed and looked away, deep in thought. “There was this movie I watched as a little girl. This black and white picture about a cowboy who robbed trains. I’ll never forget the ending. You see, the cowboy turns to the woman he loves, after she just found out that he was the train robber, and he tells her that although he did horrible things, he stole from people, killed people, it didn’t mean he loved her any less or that he wasn’t capable of love.”

  Grace motioned for me to pick up the salad bowl and follow her out onto the deck. I set the bowl on the table, and Grace arranged the plates and forks. When she was done, she guided me to the railing and nodded over to where King stood on a ladder, replacing a light bulb on a small shed in the corner of the yard.

  “What I’m trying to say, dear, and what I think the cowboy was trying to say to his love in that movie, is that there is a difference between being bad and being evil. Just because he was a very bad boy, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be a truly great man.” I was rolling her words around in my brain when she added, “And God help me, little one, you break his heart, and I will cut you where you stand. If I’m long gone when that happens, be assured that death will not stop me from bringing you down.” Grace smiled like she hadn’t just threatened my life and brought me in for another hug. “Now, let’s go get the meatballs.”

  Grace may have been a little thing, and she definitely had the wrong idea about what was going on between myself and King, but I had no doubt that if I crossed her, she would carry through on her threat without blinking an eye.

  King ducked inside the bathroom to wash his hands and then joined us out on the deck. The sun had just started to set when I noticed the strands of lights crisscrossing over our heads. As the sun sank lower, the lights got brighter until they looked like thousands of tiny stars shining over our meal.

  We ate, and Grace did most of the talking. She frequently refilled my mojito, and at one point rushed inside to make another pitcher. She was curious about me and asked a lot of questions. In between shoveling meatballs into my mouth, I filled her in on my story.

  “It’s a good thing you have each other.” She pointed out.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, Grace,” King said, his lips compressed in a thin, straight line.

  Grace shrugged and took another sip of her drink. “Edmund and I had an arranged marriage, you know. His mother and mine conspired together since we were still on the tit. The first few years we were together, I couldn’t stand the man, but after a while, I learned to love him. Then, I fell in love with him and felt that way up until the day he died. Things don’t always start out the way we want them to. It’s how they end that’s important. I may not have loved Ed in the beginning, but he grew to be the love of my life.”

  Grace had the most optimistic, if not bordering on warped, perception of relationships. But what did I expect? The woman was a walking, talking contradiction. A tiny little thing that drank like a fish and swore like a sailor. Not to mention that her house looked like an episode of HOARDERS: RABBIT EDITION.

  “It didn’t hurt that the sex was off the charts fantastic,” Grace said, staring up into the lights.

  I spit out a mouthful of mojito. Half of it splattered against King’s shirt. I braced myself for his anger, slowly lifting my eyes to his, but there was none. His shoulders shook as he chuckled. Grace was downright howling.

  I helped Grace clean up while King disappeared down the hall. I heard the bathtub running and thought maybe he was wringing the mojito out of his shirt.

  “Grace, what’s with the rabbits?” I asked her, needing to know. She smiled and closed the dishwasher. She turned the dial, and it sounded like Preppy’s car exploding all over again.

  “Ed used to bring me home a ceramic rabbit after every business trip.” She looked around at the table. “I know it’s odd, and I know they’ve taken over the house. But each one was a moment my husband wasn’t with me, but was still thinking about me.” Grace looked as if she was getting tired. My heart seized. I wasn’t expecting the reason to be so sentimental, and I hated that I ever thought that she might have been just a crazy rabbit lady.

  “I’ll finish this up, Grace. Why don’t you go lie down?”

  She nodded and wiped her hands on the dishcloth hanging off her shoulder. Setting it around the faucet, she brought me in for another hug. “Thank you. Take care of my boy, will you? He’s been having a hard time since he got out. I worry about him.”

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I took the coward’s way out and went with what I knew she wanted to hear. “Of course.”

  Grace made her way down the ha
ll where I heard a door open and then shut. I finished the dishes and sat at the kitchen table for a good hour. It was getting late. Grace obviously needed to go to bed.

  Where was King?

  I padded down the hall and paused outside a door when I heard voices speaking in hushed tones. The door wasn’t latched, so I pushed it open a little, hoping it wouldn’t creak. Peering through the crack, I caught a glimpse of King and Grace in the mirror of a large ornate walnut dresser that took up most of the small room. Grace sat on the side of the bed in bright orange button-up pajamas with matching slippers. Her feet didn’t touch the floor. King crouched in front of her and held up what looked like some sort of glass pipe.

  “Like this,” he said, lighting the pipe he took a hit and held it in his lungs before blowing out the smoke. Then, he passed the pipe over to Grace who did the same, looking to King for reassurance. When she exhaled, she started having a coughing fit. King held her arm while she laughed and coughed at the same time.

  “Will I do that every time?” she asked when she was finally able to manage a sentence.

  “No, just the first few times.” King assured her with a small smile.

  “Good. I hate coughing,” Grace said.

  “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need?” He asked.

  “I’m an old lady, and a dying one at that, and you still come over to fix my house and take care of me like I’m still going to be around in six months. You do too much already.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” King scolded, pinching the bridge of his nose. Grace reached out, took King’s hands in her own, and held them on her lap.

  “You are the closest thing to a son I ever had,” she confessed.

  King looked to the floor. “You’ve always been more of a mother to me than…her.”

  Grace’s face grew serious. “I’m only sorry I didn’t kill that bitch myself.”

  It was on those words that I lost my footing and came tumbling forward into the room, landing on my hands and knees in front of the bed.

  “Is she always this graceful?” Grace asked.