Wonderful, page 45
Instantly feeling better, I told Kiera, “I should go shower.”
Kiera wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Yes, you should.”
I lifted an eyebrow at her. “You could join me?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Not in that shower.”
I laughed with her, understanding what she meant. The shower on the bus was microscopic; it was hard for one person to fit inside, two would be physically impossible. Even still, it was a million times better than the shower on Justin’s bus. I left her with a kiss, then hurried to get clean so I could rejoin her.
My arms shook as I washed my hair. I was going to be so sore today. Weird that I hadn’t even noticed that I was overdoing it. I’d just been enjoying the mindlessness of not thinking. Because the last thing I’d been thinking about before bed was…
Pausing with my hands in my hair, I remembered Matt telling me that our next concert was in Philadelphia. That was where the bus was headed; we might even be there already. Matt had shown me where the city was on the map, and I’d instantly been struck with how close it was to…somewhere else. Somewhere I hadn’t wanted to go. Somewhere I thought I’d never go. But now that I was here, now that it was right there…well, fuck. No wonder I’d had bad dreams last night.
I finished rinsing, turned off the water, and just stood there as indecision filled me. I began to tremble with the cold, but I didn’t care because the thought that wouldn’t leave me alone had me shaking on the inside. I shouldn’t. They don’t deserve it. I should ignore where I am, ignore that they’re here, and pretend that none of this affects me. Pretend they don’t matter to me. They shouldn’t matter to me. Why the fuck do they still matter to me?
The tears in my eyes grew heavy as I contemplated that, and suddenly, like a dam bursting, the memory of my dream flooded me. It had been a real memory I’d relived last night. I’d been much younger…eight, maybe nine, and my father had told me, he’d actually told me, that if I wanted to end my life, he wouldn’t stop it, he wouldn’t mourn me, he wouldn’t care. He’d even help me. He didn’t usually take his hatred that far, but even now I could remember smelling the alcohol on him. And in this case, the alcohol had loosened his tongue with his true feelings.
His words had made me cry; I’d been too young to keep it in. The second the tears had started falling, he’d backhanded me across the cheek. It was one of the rare times that he’d actually struck my face; he’d preferred less obvious places. His own face had been twisted in a look of disgust as he’d told me that real men don’t cry.
Jesus. That was the person I was contemplating visiting? Because that was my dilemma. My parents were buried nearby, in New Jersey. I had the afternoon off, and their graves were within driving distance, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
No. There was no point. Even if they could somehow realize that I was there, it wouldn’t matter to them. I’d ignore it, ignore them. Treat them the way they treated me.
But damn, that didn’t feel right either.
I was emotionally numb when I finally got out of the shower and got dressed. Time sped up on me, swallowed by my internal conflict. Jenny and Rachel were still with us, having stayed a couple of extra days to visit Evan and Matt; they were all going out to do some sightseeing in Philly. Deacon and his bandmates were visiting friends and family in the area. Anna and Griffin were going out to find some gross combination of foods for Anna and her cravings. Every group invited Kiera and me to go with them, but we declined every offer. Kiera probably thought that was because of the media frenzy, or so we could have some alone time together, but that wasn’t my entire reason for saying no to my friends. Because I was still fucking thinking about it, and the longer I stewed on it, the harder it was to ignore.
Damn it. If I didn’t do this, it would haunt me for the rest of my life. As much as I wanted to let this opportunity pass me by, as much as I knew they didn’t deserve my respect, I had to go. For me. For closure. I needed to make peace with them so I could move forward.
Once everyone left for their outings, Kiera turned to me with a flirty smile on her lips. “So now that it is just you and me, Mr. Kyle, what would you like to do?” Her voice dropped into a seductive range that normally would have had my blood boiling. “Maybe return that favor you still owe me?”
God. I knew what she meant by that. Hearing her say it should have had me climbing the walls, but my mind and my heart were somewhere else.
My eyes dropped to the floor as nerves crawled up my stomach. Was I strong enough to do this? “Actually…I have a favor to ask of you.”
The earlier concern instantly reappeared on Kiera’s face. “What is it?”
I leaned forward over my knees as I struggled with wanting to do this and not wanting to do this. How was it possible to feel both of those things so strongly? I ran a hand through my hair, peeking up at her as I partially confessed my desire. “I’ve been debating doing something. I wasn’t going to do it, so I didn’t even bother mentioning it, but the longer we sit here, the more it eats away at me, and I just feel like…I have to do it. I need to do it.” Saying it out loud made my path even clearer, and I exhaled a slow breath as my body struggled to accept my decision. “But I can’t do it alone. I need you.” Because I fully expected this to tear me apart.
Kiera instantly grabbed my hand. “My answer is yes. Whatever the favor is, my answer is always yes. Whenever you need me, I’m there, Kellan…I’m always here for you.”
Her words squeezed my heart, made my eyes burn with pain. In one statement she had shown me more love than they ever had. If I got through today, it would only be because of her.
An empathetic ache in her eyes, Kiera brushed some stray strands off my forehead and whispered, “What do you need to do?”
My throat instantly tightened. Say goodbye to my parents. I wanted to say the words, release them so they would stop having so much power over me, but I couldn’t. I literally couldn’t. I swallowed, waited, then told her in the only way that I could. Vaguely. “I need to visit someone.” Just saying that much tore me open, and I could feel a breakdown trying to rise to the surface. I had to look away from her, focus on something else. My eyes locked on my guitar across the bus, and I started counting the strings.
Kiera kissed my shoulder. “Okay,” she told me, and I could hear the encouragement in her voice. It gave me the strength to look back at her, and I gave her a sad smile as a thank you.
I tried not to think about what I was about to do as I called for a cab to pick us up, and I kept my mind as blank as possible as I waited for the taxi to arrive. Kiera didn’t ask me any questions as we waited. She just stroked my hand, kissed my forehead…soothed me as a mother would soothe a troubled child. Well, as a good mother would. Mine never did. My mother hated it when I was upset, and she would order me to my room until I “got a hold of myself.” Occasionally, I’d faked being in a bad mood, just so I’d be left alone. Of course, that often backfired since my dad loved making my bad moods worse.
But fuck, I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about any of that.
It was almost a relief when the cab finally came. After Sienna had forced that last photo-op, I’d talked our bus driver into parking our bus so that the door was hidden from any loitering fans’ view by the other bus. The taxi parked by the crack between the buses, so the odds of Kiera and me being spotted leaving were slim. I didn’t want any part of today being exploited by the public. If ever I’d needed privacy, it was today.
I thanked Kiera for doing this for me as I helped her with her coat. Any time we went out together was a risk for her, and I was fully aware that my request wasn’t as simple as it sounded.
She locked eyes with me; hers were a deep, sympathetic green today. “It’s not a problem, Kellan. You’re not ever a problem.”
I nodded at her, then we headed out to the taxi. We snuck inside with zero fanfare, and I felt confident that no one knew we were leaving. My stomach churned when the driver asked me where we wanted to go. I was afraid my voice would falter as I said it, but I pulled from a lifetime of pretending and gave him the address like there was nothing special about our destination. “Saint Joseph’s Cemetery in Gloucester Township, New Jersey.”
The driver nodded and started pulling away. I could feel Kiera’s curiosity beside me. Still feeling that well of courage that came from acting, I turned to her and quickly explained, while I still could. “It’s where my parents are buried.”
Her eyes widened with understanding, and she put a hand on my thigh in support. I immediately grabbed it and laced our fingers together. As I looked out over the passing landscape, Kiera asked me why my parents were buried here, and not in Seattle. Good question. Both of my parents were originally from the East Coast. They’d moved to the West Coast for work. Dad had come back alone when his last remaining family member, his mom, had died of a stroke. He’d stayed longer than necessary to handle things with her estate. That was the “family emergency” that had resulted in my conception. My mom’s last remaining family member, my aunt, was the one who’d called me in Los Angeles to tell me they were dead. Mom and Aunt Margaret had been fairly close, but even still, Mom and Dad had left everything to me. Everything. That fact still shocked me. My aunt had blamed me for it, like I’d somehow manipulated them into doing that. She’d even tried, unsuccessfully, to contest their will. She’d brought them both back here out of spite, to prove that she loved them, and I didn’t. Maybe she thought taking them away would hurt me, but it had actually been a relief.
With a shrug, I told Kiera the basic facts. “My aunt brought them here after the funeral. She said there was nothing left in Washington for them, so why bury them there. She buried them here, near where she and my mom grew up.” And as far away from me as she could get them.
Kiera looked shocked and saddened by that, like she was just now realizing how alone I’d truly been. She asked if my aunt lived here, and my gaze snapped back to the window. “Don’t know, don’t care. We don’t talk…never have.” That was one bridge I was content to leave burned.
I knew Kiera had more questions, but she didn’t ask them, and I was grateful for the silence.
As we drove, I spotted a flower shop. Before I even knew what I was doing, I told the driver, “Hey, man, can you stop here at the corner for a second?”
He nodded and pulled over. Before I could overthink it, I kissed Kiera on the cheek and told her I’d be right back. Head down, I hurried through the soft rain to get inside. The bell chimed when I opened the door, and an older woman turned and smiled widely at me. She didn’t seem to recognize me, and I was thankful for the anonymity; I just couldn’t deal with that kind of attention right now. I felt like my chest was about to rip open, and the only thing that was keeping me stitched together was not having to answer any questions.
Now that I was in the shop, with the fragrant scent of the flowers so thick in the air it was a little nauseating, I wasn’t sure why I’d come. Wasn’t my presence, just the act of being there, enough? But even as I thought it, I grabbed two bouquets of bright red roses and trudged to the counter. If I was going to say goodbye, then I was going to do it properly.
The woman at the counter rang me up with a bright smile on her face, like today was a joyous occasion. Like every day was. I drank in her happiness, letting it calm me, reassure me. Then I spotted a Sharpie on her counter. “Do you mind if I borrow that?” I asked her.
“Of course not, dear,” she said, pushing it my way.
I gave her a small smile. “Can I also buy one white rose petal?”
Her brows bunched together in confusion. “One white rose?”
I shook my head. “Just a petal.”
She shrugged, walked over to a display, and grabbed one for me. I rubbed the velvety softness for a second, then wrote, I’m glad you’re here on it. “Thank you,” I told the woman. Then I grabbed my purchased flowers and headed back to my wife.
Kiera’s eyes were heavy with moisture when I got back inside the cab. Her gaze locked on the roses, and her face twisted with pain, like seeing them physically hurt her. I understood the feeling; they felt like a brand in my hand, burning all the way up my arm to deep inside my chest. Not feeling capable of words, I handed Kiera the white petal. She read it, quickly swiped her eyes, then gave me a tight nod and a heartbreakingly sad smile. The emotion on her face was getting to me, so I shifted my gaze to look out the window while Kiera clenched my hand, silently giving me her support.
The rain intensified as we drove into the cemetery; it was like the entire world was mourning with me. As the cab stopped beside a giant angel statue, I was suddenly struck by the size of this place. A sense of hopelessness filled me as I looked out the rain-streaked window. I only knew they were buried here. I had no idea where, and time was not on my side.
“Please wait for us,” I told the driver. He nodded that he’d stay, pulling out a book to read while he waited.
Kiera and I got out of the cab, and despair filled me as I looked around the wet, dreary landscape. They could be anywhere. The rain was a brutal downpour now, and Kiera and I were both soaked within seconds. Part of me wanted to give up. Another part of me knew I’d never make it this far again. It was now or never, and I needed this weight off my chest.
Slicking back my hair, I confessed to Kiera, “I don’t know where they are.”
Her hand slid into mine, and she gave me a squeeze of reassurance. “We’ll find them.”
I looked at her, grateful for her support, grateful for her understanding, grateful for her soul. Inhaling a deep breath, I nodded in agreement. We’d try, it was all we could do. We separated so we could search for them more effectively, but it still felt like a long shot. We got through half of the cemetery with no luck, and shaking from the cold, we made our way to the other half. The much larger half.
Kiera didn’t make one word of complaint as we searched, but I knew she had to be miserable and tired. I was. I was completely soaked through, rain running under my jacket. My jeans were saturated, and my hands were shaking as numbness set in. How much longer could we search before we physically couldn’t do it anymore?
The melancholic air of this place wasn’t helping my mood either. Everywhere I looked, I saw a life that had been cut away from someone else. I saw husbands and wives who’d died years apart from each other. I saw children who’d barely lived. I saw whole families ripped away by time. My spirit was already at the breaking point, and we still had a lot of the cemetery to cover. This is impossible. We should just leave.
And that was when I heard Kiera say my name.
I looked over to see her a few rows behind me. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and I knew she’d found them. My gaze drifted to the gravestone at her feet, and I suddenly felt like the entire world was contracting, focusing in on that one spot. A shiver ran through me, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, or from fear, regret…remorse. I inhaled a deep breath and forced myself to walk over to her. This was it. This was why I’d come.
My feet felt heavier with every step. Could they see me now? Did they know I was here? Were they laughing at me?
No. They were gone, and I was alone. Only that wasn’t true. I wasn’t alone, not anymore.
I could feel Kiera’s eyes on me when I reached her side, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from my parents’ graves, from their headstone. John and Susan Kyle: Beloved Friends, Family, and Parents. A vague memory reached out for me as I stared at the etched words. Of me, feeling numb as I’d talked to the funeral director, as I’d ordered weird shit that I’d never thought about having to order before—caskets, tombstones, flowers. I hadn’t wanted to do any of it, had been content to shove my parents into a box in an unmarked grave, but even still, I’d chosen these words. I’d picked the sentiment that I wished was true, instead of carving the reality. Or was it true? They’d been loved by friends; Gavin was proof of that. And they’d been loved by their families—both of them had spoken fondly of their parents, and regardless of her hatred for me, Aunt Margaret had loved my mother. And they had been loved…by me. Stupidly, hopelessly, unrequitedly loved by me. After all, wasn’t love the real reason I was here?
Feeling like my chest was cracking open, I squatted in front of their graves. My throat tightened as I ran my fingers over my mother’s name, over my father’s. I loved you. Did you ever love me? I searched my memories as I placed my hand on the grass, looking for something good, anything good. And there, buried deep in my mind, I found pockets of contentment. My mother’s laugh when I said something funny. My father giving me an extra cookie after dinner, just because. My mother listening to me play guitar, a slight smile on her face. My father reluctantly but effectively teaching me how to drive. My mother rubbing my back in appreciation when I went to the store for her when she was sick. There were slivers of kindness in the cruelty of my past. I typically overlooked them because they were too rare to be truly meaningful, but still, they were there.
And remembering those times made the pain…so much worse. Sometimes hate was easier than love. I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks as I struggled to keep a hold of my emotions. Like Kiera sensed I was losing it, she tenderly touched my shoulder, focusing me, calming me. Feeling strengthened, I opened my eyes and placed a bouquet under my mother’s name, then my father’s. I can’t say I miss you, but I do miss what we could have been, if you’d only let us.
Sitting back on my heels, I stared at their names and contemplated what to say to them. I knew that somewhere in their past they were not the same people who’d raised me. I’d changed them, hardened them. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I also knew they would have been very different without me. They might have even been happy. While I couldn’t forgive them, I could acknowledge that I’d been the catalyst, an undeniable truth that had placed a wedge of hatred between them. A wedge that had cut into me at every opportunity.
