214 Palmer Street(8)

When Kirk opened his dealership, a luxury car dealership no less, I could have spit flames. There’s no way Kirk came up with the funds or the game plan to pull that one off. His parents had to have supplied the financial backing. It wasn’t the money that irked me, though, it was the acquired status. After so many years of being Gavin Kramer’s sidekick, he finally one-upped him and everyone else for that matter. Now while Gavin was the local chief of police, Kirk was socializing with the elite, employing dozens of people, and making major bank with minimal effort. Not to mention driving the best-performing, most expensive automobiles. Not my thing really, but I know that’s important to a lot of people. I was sure he was a great boss, guiding his team so they could be the best version of themselves and being supportive when they needed time off due to family problems or whatever. Blah, blah, blah. He was always good at blowing smoke.

Everyone always loved Kirk.

If I sound bitter, it’s because I am.

I was sure Kirk’s successful business made Gavin angry too. He wasn’t the kind of friend who would be happy at someone else’s good fortune. We had that in common, anyway. No, Gavin had to be secretly seething. On the surface, though, he’d be all “so happy for you,” and “couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” when actually he was hoping Kirk’s business would fail. Gavin was as two-faced as they came.

When we finished our meal at the restaurant that evening, Mom wanted to head out, but Kirk and his date had just been served dinner, so I said, “What’s the rush? It’s your birthday!” I flagged down the server, the same poor man who’d had to hear Kirk prattle on about the wine list, and told him it was my mother’s birthday and we wanted to order dessert and coffee. When they brought out her flan it had a lit candle in it, which delighted her. The staff didn’t circle the table and sing, though, because this wasn’t Applebee’s, but a fancy restaurant. Or more accurately, and this is according to their website, “a unique, upscale dining experience.”

We lingered over coffee, Mom telling me repeatedly how much she appreciated the birthday outing, that it wasn’t necessary, but so thoughtful of me. My mother had gotten more than her share of misery in her life, and so I tried to make it up to her. She had a philosophy of “live and let live,” which made her the better of the two of us. She always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. It was her most admirable attribute, but also her biggest shortcoming. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, sighing and patting my hand. Since my dad died it had been just the two of us. “You’re the best daughter. Thank you for this lovely dinner. I’m so grateful. I believe I will feast on this memory for months.”

Those statements illustrated my mom perfectly. She was the kind of woman who feasted on memories and was grateful for everything. Just a good soul. She volunteered at our church and gave out sincere compliments. Once I heard her tell a homeless man that she liked his backpack. “Very colorful!” Mom had exclaimed, making him smile. When she said she’d pray for someone, she actually did. In fact, she prayed twice as much, to make up for those who promised to pray, then promptly forgot. Like me.

I took her hand. “You don’t need to thank me, Mom. It was my pleasure.” Seeing her face light up with a smile was its own reward.

I knew Kirk and his date would have to come past us when they left and I lucked out that the row farthest from our table was blocked by a waiter carrying a large tray, forcing him to walk right by us. He didn’t make eye contact, of course, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Right as they approached, I called out, “Kirk! Kirk Aden! Imagine seeing you here.” I hadn’t realized how hushed the conversation in the restaurant was until my own voice rang out, drawing attention to me.

His face flushed red, and I saw it in his eyes—there’s no way you can disguise guilt, not when a reminder of your crime is staring you in the face. The moment passed and he managed to say, “Hi, nice seeing you.” His lady friend paused, but he took her by the elbow and they continued on.

I watched him go, willing my eyes to bore two holes into his back. How dare he go about his life, blissfully happy while I sat here, still stuck in the past? I turned to Mom. “Notice how he couldn’t even stop to exchange pleasantries? What does that tell you?”

She said, “You can’t make assumptions. Maybe they had somewhere they had to be.” Which was so like her, making excuses for deplorable human beings. Mom couldn’t help herself; she was just too good.

“Too busy to talk for two minutes?” I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s been a long time,” she’d said, gently. “Maybe you need to let it go for your own peace of mind.”

I didn’t want to upset her so I let it drop, but that was the moment that I decided that since life wasn’t fair, it was up to me to even things out. Enough already.





SIX





THEN





Exhausted from talking to the police and the doctor, Sarah was only vaguely aware of the staff coming and going, checking her vital signs, and talking amongst themselves. She could barely open her eyes. When they asked questions, she could nod or manage a word or two. For the most part, she slept.

The next morning, she woke to find Kirk by her side. He hadn’t been there during the night, so his appearance was like a welcome magic trick. “You’re here,” she murmured.