Kissing Abbie goodbye on the cheek and waving to my future brother-in-law, I climb into my car and drive home. I’m emotionally exhausted, I don’t really know what to expect when I get back. Just because I’m not going to prison doesn’t mean Kenton can ever forgive me for everything that I have put him through. I know I should trust him, but I am afraid of his reaction. Especially because he doesn’t like my dad. Everything just happened wrong I think, shaking my head as I continue onto the interstate. I need to find him. To make him understand I love him so much I don’t know that I could bear to lose him over this.
Arriving home, I park my car in my little driveway and sit and look at the dark and empty house. I don’t want go in there. I don’t want to sit in the room where he made love to me and know that he isn’t there now, and he may not come back. I will just have to go to him. I doubt he’s home. He doesn’t want to sit at home alone either.
Looking around the car, I imagine where he may be right now. He needs space, trees, and earth to unwind. It’s something I can appreciate about him and something we have in common. I run to relieve stress, Kenton fishes. So, I will run to where he loves to fish.
Walking inside. I go to the room we shared last, and stare at the bed where we lay together. It seems less welcoming now, and I know that if he turns me away, I will never be able to sleep in that bed again. Swallowing hard, I turn away. I need to get a move on, I might as well jog to the lake, it will help me clear my head properly.
What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? The very thought brings tears to my tired eyes. We need to be able to reconcile our differences. We really are better together and I have to make him see this. I know he can be hard-headed, but if I have to sit on him to make him listen, then that’s what I will do, I decide, walking to the closet and pulling out my running shorts and my favorite hot pink tank. It’s my cutest running gear I have, and if I’m going to get his full attention, and make him see reason, then I will need every weapon I have.
Crossing to the bathroom, I grab a hair tie and throw my hair up in a long ponytail that cascades down my back.
“Everything will be okay,” I tell myself. I have to believe this because the alternative is death of the heart. I can’t go on living in a world where Kenton doesn’t want me. I don’t know what that could mean for me, I don’t want to be so dramatic as to say it would kill me. Though we all know the phrase, “die of a broken heart,” so who knows, it could be possible.
Walking out the door, I lock the deadbolt and stretch my long legs and begin to run. I run hard and fast, crossing the street and heading into the woods. The branches snap under my feet as I jog deeper into the darkness, closer to the place where I know he will be.
My breath comes out in short even bursts as my well-trained lungs easily maintain a steady pace. Running is easy, talking is hard. I never know how to express myself well, and now, more than ever, I need the words.
A few more feet pass and I can see the low light of a lantern in the distance, and my eyes confirm what my heart already knows. How did I know? I can’t say for sure, it’s just something I feel in my gut. Slowing to a jog, then to a complete stop, I see him just through the brush.
Look at him, I think, he looks so sad, so handsome there in the dark.
He’s all alone, sitting, like the first time I came to him. Except this time, he doesn’t have his fishing gear, he merely sits and looks out at the lake, watching as the moon reflects in the water that ripples under the light summer breeze. It would be a lovely painting, though a sad one, as I feel the echoes of loneliness push into me, almost shunning me from the man I love.
“Kenton,” I call, my voice ringing hollow in the air.
He doesn’t move, he just sits still, as if I don’t exist.
“Kenton, please,'' I plead, stepping forward through the brush and standing next to him towering on my long legs as he continues to stare at the water.
“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you,” I sigh, swallowing hard and wondering how some people are able to find the right words. “If I could go back and do things differently I would, but I can’t,” folding my arms over my chest, hoping to comfort my broken heart.
“Funny,” he whispers, “your father said the exact same thing earlier.” His eyes stay trained on the water, not bothering to spare me a glance. The blatant disregard is like a knife to the chest, and I think I would actually prefer the blade to the emotional slap.
“Yes, well, my father and I have a lot in common,” I whisper, shrugging my shoulders, unsure if the comparison between us was meant to be an insult, or merely a statement of an observation.
“Yeah, I got that impression,” he grumbled, glancing over at me as I sit down beside him. “You look pretty, Lucy,'' he admits, his eyes scanning over my face in a way that would normally make my heart beat faster, but this time my heart does no such thing. It merely sits still, cold in my chest as I prepare for the worst.
“Kenton, before you decide to end things with me, I wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that my father called me,” I say, glancing
at him, making sure he is listening. “When I was called into work to distribute what apparently was twenty pounds of heroin,” I say with a roll of my eyes, “I really had no idea. I thought it was disgusting granola trail mix crap. You know that gross stuff that you buy all the time when you go in.” Turning back to look at him, I feel a little more comfortable now that he is looking at me. “If I knew what it was, I don’t think I would have gone into work and helped.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just sits and looks at me. To think I found his silence and thoughtfulness sexy at one point. At this moment it is irritating and nerve wracking.
For the love of, God, say something with meaning, I think.
“I want you to know that I really wanted to tell you about my father and the drop. The night you left, I was out with Charlie as you know, and after I dropped Charlie off at home, my father called me, and I well…” I trail off raising my hands to my head, covering myself for a moment, resisting the urge to yank out my hair in frustration. “I can’t lie to you and tell you that I had no idea that they were drugs or drug money, but I think we both know that some part of me knew it was going on. I just chose to ignore it because I was scared, and I didn’t want to know the truth. I didn’t want to face the possibility of losing my father again.” I rush, the words catching in my throat as the emotions begin to flow, bringing tears to my eyes.
I wish he would say something, validate my feelings, or give me a sign that he understands why I did these things.
“Kenton,” I say, wanting to touch him, but not willing to reach out and be rejected. “Do you understand why I did what I did, even if it isn’t something you would do, or something you would approve of?” I ask, my eyes pleading.
He sits quietly, watching me, and nods his head in acknowledgement.
Releasing a sigh, I turn to face the water again. It hurts to look at him, it hurts to be near him now, but it also hurts to be away.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, and that I was a part of it all,” I say, thinking of the drug money drop, and heroin redistribution. “I’m sorry that I ran from you that night,” I whisper, glancing back at him. “I care about you, Kenton, I’m in love with you. I don’t know how I will be able to go on without you in my life.” Tears fill my eyes as I fear the worst is yet to come. “So, before we end things for good, I had to make sure you understood that I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to keep my family safe. Also,” I add, my voice an octave higher, “I don’t do drugs, I have never done drugs. I do drink, though. Underage drinking, it’s kind of something I do with Charlie,” I grin, remembering our night out at the club. Looking back at him, I remember that I am talking to the chief of police. “Ugh, think what you want, arrest me, fine, whatever, but since we're being honest, that is something we do while we’re out and about.”
Suddenly, he bursts into laughter shaking his head. “Of course,” chuckling, “nothing like a little underage drinking to spice up the summer,” he says shaking his head.