Blind Kiss(49)

“They’re like family,” I told her.

“Hmm, well, okay . . . Tell her I’m very sorry.” She huffed into the phone. “But I need you too, Gavin. Can I come over?”

Maybe she’s going to break up with me.

“Okay.”

I rushed around, making sure there was no evidence of Penny. When the doorbell rang, I opened it and said, “If you’re going to start a fight with me, can you let me shower first? I’ve been running around the whole day.”

She started untying her long black coat to reveal nothing but a matching lace bra and panty set underneath. “Why don’t we shower together?”

She walked past me into the living room. I closed the door and followed her toward the bathroom.





22. Fourteen Years Ago


PENNY

In the days following my father’s death, my mother flip-flopped between crying and getting shit done. She had my father cremated, planned his service, cried, went through all of their finances, cried, called the lab, cried, went to Home Depot to buy a gallon of paint, cried, painted her bedroom like a crazy person, and cried some more. Kiki and I helped.

When we were done, she stepped back to admire our work. “Shall we paint the whole house?” she asked.

That’s exactly what we did. It was my mother’s own brand of bereavement therapy, and Kiki and I were happy to go along with it. I hobbled around, filling up pans, while she and Kiki painted. Gavin popped in periodically, and Lance came over to help for a few days, too. I was amazed by how patient Lance was with me. He never pushed me for anything more, even after I had surprised him with a kiss on graduation day. Even though I still didn’t feel a spark between us, I was comforted by his solid presence. I was even coming to rely on him.


WE HELD MY father’s service on a beautiful lakeshore just outside of Fort Collins. Gavin played my dad’s favorite song, “Hey Jude,” on his Telecaster. Everyone cried.

Kiki spoke for all of us. After all, she was the best public speaker in the family, even at her young age. My mom helped her write the eulogy. I don’t know who added it, but there was a line in there that said, “My dad loved us all, and he loved his job. But his favorite thing in the whole world was watching my sister dance. She’s such a beautiful dancer, and my dad was so proud of her.” My stupid knee ached at the words. My dad was so proud of her. I broke down.

This time, Lance was there to comfort me. Gavin and Lottie were there, too, but in the back row. My mother, stoic, sat on the other side of me. Ten days of huffing paint and crying had made her zombielike. How the hell Kiki pulled that eulogy off without falling apart, I’ll never know. I guess all of her pageant training was paying off in ways I hadn’t expected. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to stand in front of a crowd and speak about my father without crumbling into a ball and turning to dust myself.


A MONTH BLURRED by. My father had a great life insurance policy, thank God, enough for Kiki to go to college and my mom to pay off the house—but not enough to set them up long-term. My mom would have to get a job. The lab, fortunately, adored my father and offered my mother a well-paying secretarial position. She’d never had a job in her life, but she was grateful.

I’d never realized how brave my mother was, and my respect for her grew with each day after my father’s passing. She funneled all of her pageant energy into being a strong woman and mother. She refused to be defined by her grief and widowhood.

I, on the other hand, fell apart on the daily: at physical therapy, in my room alone, and especially when I was with Gavin.

One night after dinner, Kiki came into my room, closed my door, and sat at the end of my bed. “Do you think it would kill Mom if I told her I didn’t want to do the pageants anymore?”

I shook my head. I knew this was coming. “No, Keeks. I know I haven’t always been the best big sister, and I’ve never really given you any advice worth taking, but this I know for sure: You have to tell her. She can take it now. She’s different. Hell, she might even be happy about it. But you also have to find something to focus on. Maybe not right now, but eventually, when you’re in high school and stuff. Stick with the piano or play a sport or something.”

“No, I know. Cara Keller plays softball. I think I want to try that.”

I cringed inwardly at the thought of Kiki telling my mother she was swapping pageantry for softball, but at least my sister would learn teamwork, not superficial competition with, and hatred toward, other girls. “I think that’s a great idea. But give Mom another couple of months. Didn’t she cancel the upcoming pageants anyway?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait until she brings it up.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Thanks, Penny.” She left my room and went to bed.

Later that night I went into my mom’s room, where I found her in the walk-in closet, sitting on the floor. She was clutching one of my dad’s shirts to her face, crying into it. I sat beside her and cried with her.

She started laughing and crying at the same time. “Remember when I was pregnant with Kiki and I made your dad drive all the way to Denver to that chocolatier I loved?”

“I remember. I went with him.”

“I was convinced it was the only thing that could make me happy.”

“Did it?”