Reminders of Him(94)
The sun hasn’t set yet, but it’s getting close to eight, and that’s Diem’s bedtime. I’m sure Kenna is nowhere near ready to leave, but I’m looking forward to the aftermath of today. I want to get her alone and be near her while she processes what I’m sure has been the best day of her life.
The back door opens, and Patrick walks onto the porch. He doesn’t sit down in a chair. He leans against one of the pillars and stares out over the backyard.
When I left him and Grace alone with the letter last night, I was expecting some sort of immediate reaction. I wasn’t sure what it would be, but I thought I’d get something. A text, a phone call, a knock at my front door.
I got nothing.
Two hours after I left them, I finally worked up the courage to look out my window at their house, and all their lights were out.
I’ve never felt as hopeless as I felt in that moment. I thought my efforts had failed, but this morning, after an entire night of insomnia, I heard a knock at my door.
When I opened it, Grace was standing there without Diem or Patrick. Her eyes were puffy like she’d been crying. “I want to meet Kenna.” That’s all she said.
We got in my truck, and I took her to Kenna’s apartment not knowing what to expect, or if she was going to accept Kenna or reject Kenna. When we arrived at Kenna’s place, Grace turned to me before exiting my truck, and she said, “Are you in love with her?”
There was absolutely no hesitation when I nodded.
“Why?”
There was no hesitation after that question either. “You’ll see. She makes it a hell of a lot easier to love her than hate her.”
Grace sat in silence for a moment before finally getting out of my truck. She seemed almost as nervous as I was. We walked upstairs together, and she told me she wanted some time alone with Kenna. As hard as it was not knowing what was being said between them inside that apartment, it isn’t nearly as hard as not knowing what Patrick thinks about all this.
We haven’t had a chance to talk about it at all. I’m guessing that’s why he’s out here.
My hope is that he and Grace are on the same page, but they might not be. He might only be accepting Kenna because Grace needs him to.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him.
Patrick scratches his jaw, mulling over my question. He answers without looking directly at me. “If you would have asked me that question when you and Kenna arrived a few hours ago, I would have told you I’m still pissed at you. And that I’m not sorry for hitting you.” He pauses and sits down on the top porch step. He clasps his hands together between his knees and looks over at me. “But that changed when I saw you with her. When I saw the way you looked at her. The way your eyes teared up when Diem crawled onto her lap at the dinner table.” Patrick shakes his head. “I’ve known you since you were Diem’s age, Ledger. Not one time in all the years I’ve known you have you ever given me a single reason to doubt you. If you’re telling me Kenna is worthy of Diem, then I believe you. The least I can do is believe you.”
Fuck.
I look away from him and wipe at my eyes. I still don’t know what to do with all these fucking feelings. There have been so many since Kenna returned.
I lean back in my chair without a clue how to respond to him. Maybe I don’t. Maybe his words are enough for this conversation.
We sit in silence for a minute or two. It feels different from the bouts of silence I’ve sat through with him before. This time, the quiet is comfortable and peaceful and not at all sad.
“Holy shit,” Patrick says.
I look over at him, but his focus is on something in the backyard. I follow his line of sight until . . . no. No way.
“I’ll be damned,” I say quietly. “Is that . . . is that a fucking pigeon?”
It is. It’s an actual pigeon. A real live white-and-gray pigeon just walking around in the backyard like this isn’t the most miraculous timing a bird has ever had in the history of birds.
Patrick laughs. It’s a laugh full of bewilderment.
He laughs so much it makes me laugh.
But he doesn’t cry. It’s the first time a reminder of Scotty doesn’t make him cry, and I feel like this is huge. Not only because the chances of this random pigeon landing in this backyard at this very moment are probably one in a billion, but because Patrick and I have never had a serious conversation related to Scotty that didn’t end in me sneaking away so he could cry alone.
But he laughs, and that’s all he does, and for the first time since Scotty died I feel a sense of hope for him. For all of us.
The only other time Kenna has been inside my house was right after she showed up on this street unannounced. That wasn’t a good experience for either of us, so when I open my front door and guide her inside, I want her to feel welcome.
I’m looking forward to getting Kenna all to myself tonight, in an actual bed. The few times we’ve been together have been damn near perfect, but I’ve always felt she deserved better than an inflatable mattress, or my truck, or a hardwood floor.
I want to show her around, but my need to kiss her is stronger. As soon as I close the front door, I pull her to me. I kiss her the way I’ve been wanting to kiss her all night. It’s the first kiss without a little sadness or fear in it.
This is my favorite kiss so far. It goes on for so long I forget about showing her around the house, and I pick her up and take her straight to my bed. When I lower her to the mattress, she sprawls out and sighs.