We made no other mention for it as Kennith cooked. There was small talk between us, mostly, but I did ask a few questions about our parents. They’d moved into their summer home, it seemed. Daddy was going to tell me, call me, whatever, but Kennith’s mother had thought it would be too hard on me. The unspoken reality was that they’d left ahead of what they were sure would be some kind of scandal. Nobody gave two shits about our family, not really, but our parents were narcissists. There was no telling them that.
“So, I’m the family embarrassment,” I mused as he set my bowl down in front of me. “That must take a weight off of your shoulders.”
He laughed. “See? I told you it wasn’t the alcohol.”
He was right, of course. But hearing it said out loud by someone without a psychology degree, someone who knew me—really knew me—brought some small comfort.
Or perhaps it wasn’t so small. My stomach seemed less jittery and my heart slowed. I took more mouthfuls of food than I had in months, and when we finished eating, I wasn’t sullen or tired.
But I did have a question. A dangerous one. I didn’t know how to ask, but I also knew that I must. It would come up sooner or later, and I wanted control of when. But I also didn’t want to make Kennith uncomfortable. I didn’t want to bring back the awkwardness we’d only just dismissed.
“Not that it matters,” I began, averting my eyes, “but what happened to Caleb?”
If I had asked my stepmother, she would have flown into a tizzy. She would have scolded me, practically foamed at the mouth as she told me I was never to see him again. I would have been accused of “falling into bad habits already” and my character, my judgment, my ability to think and reason—all of it would have been called into question. Ultimately, she wouldn’t have answered.
If I had asked Daddy, he would have kept reading the paper or drinking his scotch. He would have pretended not to hear me, and when I asked again, he would have told me to ask my stepmother. There would be an air of disappointment to his words, and my limbs would have grown leaden, and suddenly, I wouldn’t want to know.
But I had asked Kennith, and I expected him to tell me the truth. What I hadn’t expected was how it would affect me.
“He’s engaged.”
He’d probably wanted to get it over with, thinking that just coming out and saying it would be akin to tearing off a Band-Aid. And there was that initial sting, the shock of it, a veil ripped away so suddenly that there was hardly time for my brain to form the proper reaction. I went through a variety of options: crying, spitting, laughing uproariously, or perhaps even saying nothing at all. By the time I’d decided, I’d already gone numb, and I could only reply with:
“Oh. Good for him.”
I didn’t mean it, of course. Caleb had been the love of my life. He had been my arch nemesis, too, the greatest evil I’d ever had to overcome. But now he was someone else’s.
Did he love her? Did something in her make him change, something I never had? Did that make her better than me? Had everything that had happened been, somehow, my fault?
I tried to remember something, anything from my counseling at rehab that might have helped me, but there was nothing. With Caleb, there was only ever nothing.
“I…” Kennith began, his face pinched. “I wish I could say I’m sorry, Colette. But I’m not. Well, maybe for the girl, but not for you. It’s better this way.”
I snorted. “Everyone keeps saying that. It makes me think they don’t have a goddamn idea what it means.”
Kennith pursed his lips. “But it is, isn’t it? What would you rather, Colette? That he still be in love with you? That he picked you up instead of me?”
“I wish he were dead!” I told him. Now that I’d said it, more words came much too quickly for me to stop. “I wish he would die so that no one could have him. No one deserves him. He’s too wonderful and terrible and I wish he would go away forever and never come back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy, and I sure as hell don’t deserve to be miserable!”
Kennith looked like he was going to say something, but I couldn’t stand to hear it. I pushed my bowl away and stood, hurrying from the kitchen and up the stairs to lock myself in one of the guest rooms.
I was aware of how childish I’d been earlier. Still, it seemed that I’d retained some sense of control as opposed to hours later when I was still crying into my pillow.
Engaged. Getting married. Those were things he’d never spoken of with me, regardless of the years and shit we’d shared. I was never “wife material,” not the sort of girl he’d want to bring home to his folks, though I didn’t see why. I was smart, witty, strong, and maybe even beautiful, and yet none of those things mattered—or even registered with—Caleb. Why? Why hadn’t I been good enough?
I didn’t want those feelings, but they bloomed inside of me, each one reaching out like a thorny vine to wrap around some other part of me. In those hours, I thought of how blue his eyes had been, how his lazy smile had always felt like home, how spending the day drunk and in love had felt and smelled and tasted.
But I also thought about the other things. I thought about the way he barely noticed I was home, most days. I thought about how I was always wrong, always stupid in his presence, even when I was right. I thought about how often he reminded me I was good for nothing unless I was with him. The only words of praise he ever bestowed upon me were when he wanted something, and in those last months, that had become increasingly rare.
A thought hit me like a ton of bricks. Was he with her when we were together? Is that why they’re engaged so soon?
It made sense. Caleb had been increasingly withdrawn in those days, and absent too. He hadn’t needed me whatsoever, not for company, conversation, or sex. I’d started drinking alone more and more often, and by the time the intervention rolled around, I was spending practically all my money and time on booze.
But that didn’t matter to Caleb. He probably saw it as a convenient means to an end. After all, he hadn’t needed to break up with me. I’d gone away. Out of sight, out of mind. I felt worthless. How could he be so cruel?
Kennith knocked on my door for what had to be the fiftieth time. And I told him to go the fuck away for what had to have been an equal amount.
“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t sleep when you’re like this, Colette. Please. Open the door so I know that you’re okay.”
I rubbed my bleary eyes, vaulting off the bed and yanking open the door. “I’m not a dramatic teenager, you know. I’m not going to slit my wrists the wrong way in honor of Caleb’s shitty memory…”
I paused, looking up at him. He was standing in front of me in nothing but pajama pants. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad, muscular chest gleamed in the golden halo of the hall light. I swallowed. Something about him seemed so comforting suddenly.
“I know that,” he said. “It doesn’t mean you’re okay, though. I’m sorry for how I told you, but… I didn’t want to lie to you, Colette. You’re my stepsister. I could never…”
He trailed off. Then he slipped his strong arms around me, drawing me to his chest in an embrace so warm, so tender that I thought I would melt at his feet.
Part of me wanted to beat on him with my fists, push him away, take out on him what I couldn’t take out on Caleb. But another part of me needed this, needed to feel my stepbrother’s strength and sheltering caress. Instead of avoiding it I surrendered, gripping his back and burying my face in the heat of his chest, inhaling the scen
t I’d grown up with, the one that always made me feel so safe.
“You’re always saving me,” I muttered, my throat clenching as I tried not to cry again. “You’ve always been there for me, Kennith. I’m so sorry I’ve let you down…”
Kennith cupped my face in his hands. He looked into my eyes. I’d never seen such sincerity. “I love you,” he said to me. “I mean it, Colette. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
I did. Kennith had always been there for me. He’d protected me from my stepmother’s wrath and my father’s devotion to her. He’d made me feel wanted and loved when no one else could bother. He’d always been the one I could rely on, my secret-keeper, my one speck of truth in a world full of lies.
I didn’t know why at the time, but I did the unthinkable then. I knew it wasn’t right, but I wanted it more than anything else. He had always given me such comfort. He’d always looked at me in ways that Caleb never did.