The good.
The bad.
The ugly.
I knew there wasn’t a lot of good in her past. Maybe not even in her present. Her future, though, I could make that good, and I knew that when I was only sixteen-years-old.
“What’s wrong?” I finally asked with sincerity laced in my tone. I didn’t want to scare her away, but I had to know. I had to fix it.
I had to fix her.
“Mind your own business, Christian.” Her voice was an equal mixture of anger and sadness as her face frowned, almost like she regretted what she’d just replied. Allowing her memories to speak for themselves.
Her response stung, but it didn’t shock me. We were strangers, and she barely knew me. She’d only heard awful things about me. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to open up. If anything, I was happy her first instinct was to protect herself.
Her wall was so tall and thick, and all I wanted to do was break through her icy demeanor.
I wanted her to let me in. If only for a second, I’d take it.
“I’m making it my business, Kinley, but I’ll settle for a smile instead.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, and I took the opportunity to sit in the same spot she’d just stood from. Waiting for I didn’t know what.
I did the only thing I could in a moment that felt bigger than us.
I spoke from the heart. “You know we all have sad stories,” I shared, catching myself off guard. I’d never opened up to anyone, but she wasn’t just anyone, and I knew that then. “The first time I realized bad things happen to good people, I was seven.” Outside of my parents and therapist, I’d never admitted that to anyone. “The first time I grasped that I couldn’t do anything but pray for those bad things to go away, I was eight.”
I felt her take a seat beside me, fully aware she was hanging onto my every word. I swallowed hard, never feeling as vulnerable as I did then.
“The first time I understood that prayer wasn’t enough to make those bad things go away, I was nine.” I glanced over at her, needing to look into her eyes.
The concern for me was written clear across her face. She, more than anyone, understood what I was admitting.
“Now the first time I sat in a therapist’s office, telling my doctor I was terrified those bad things were going to take away my best friend, I was ten.”
She jerked back. “Julian?”
I nodded.
“I had no idea.”
“Yeah, nobody does.”
“But he’s okay now, right?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if he’ll ever really be okay. The shit he’s seen and been through is what nightmares are made of, and it doesn’t just go away. It stays with you and becomes a part of you, and if you let it, it’ll consume you.”
“I’m so sorry, Christian. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to see your best friend in pain. Sometimes I think that’s worse, you know? Seeing the ones we love the most hurting and not being able to stop it. No matter how hard you try, how much you cry and fight for them, in the end, all you’re doing is slowly dying right along with them.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah. You can do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
I didn’t hold back, speaking with conviction, “You can tell me your sad story.”
—Kinley—
I walked down to that lake to be alone.
With my thoughts.
My memories.
My trauma.
As much as I hated to admit it, I missed my mom. The sight of her, the smell of her, the sound of her voice, the feel of her warmth, her sadness, her happiness, her love…
Even her hate.
The familiarity of it all.
It was comforting when it was supposed to have been afflicting.
I thought about his request before shaking my head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“The beginning, Kinley. I want you to tell me everything.”
I stared into his eyes, feeling like we were on the same side. Both of us knew what it was like to pray and not feel heard. In the blink of an eye, my life changed overnight, and I was no longer living under the same roof as the woman who was supposed to be my mother but acted more like the drunk she was.
I shut my eyes, recalling the last time I saw her.
“Please!” she yelled loud enough to break glass. “Please don’t take her from me! She’s all I have! She’s all I fucking have!”
“Ugh!” I grabbed my head in between my hands.
Those were the last words I heard her say as child services dragged me out of our Section 8. Day in and day out, I lived and breathed her demons until one day I was set free, but I still felt like a caged bird. There was no running away from my memories.
Not then.
Not now.
I hadn’t realized I’d begun crying, tears spilling out over what I could never change. It didn’t matter how much I’d tried, how much I’d cried, nothing ever changed.
Not with her.
Not with us.
I might have been her daughter, but she was not my mother, not in the ways that counted.
A wave of emotions took over, and when Christian grabbed my wrist to stop me from leaving and took a seat where I had once sat, I couldn’t have left even if I’d wanted to.
And the truth was, I didn’t want to.
I listened to him with the same longing I had for my mom. The same thoughts, the same fears, the same realizations of what I shouldn’t have experienced at such a young age. The sincerity in his tone had caught me off guard, making me feel like I was the only person he had ever shared these confessions with other than his therapist and family.
Not even Julian.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel so alone. He understood what I went through on a daily basis, and it overwhelmed me as much as it calmed me. I was seeing a side to him he didn’t show anyone, and I had no idea why…
All I knew was that I didn’t want it to go away.
I didn’t want him to go away.
As soon as I felt the back of his fingers wipe away my tears, we once again locked eyes. Something deep inside of me told me I could trust him, but the intensity of what we were experiencing toward each other wasn’t anything I’d ever experienced with anyone before.
It was thrilling.
Terrifying.
It was everything and more.
I was the first to break eye contact between us, looking back toward the lake instead and trying to reel in my emotions that never went away. I contemplated if I was really going to do this. I could feel his gaze on the side of my face, burning a hole into my skin, and a part of me knew he sensed that.
The effect he had on me.
I gazed up at the sky, needing a minute to gather my thoughts and what was happening between us. The stars shined bright above our heads, illuminating against the darkness of the sky with the moon smiling high like a Cheshire cat. The lake breeze brought a slight chill to the air, and I hugged my knees to my chest in a reassuring gesture, shielding myself to create some warmth around me.
I sat there beside him, feeling his honesty, his support…
His love?
Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth and murmured, “This isn’t the first time she’s lost custody of me,” just loud enough for him to hear. My eyebrows rose, surprised with my own revelation. I finally admitted a truth out loud, and it felt fucking amazing. “They say people can’t remember memories before the age of six, but I remember it clear as day. Like it only just happened yesterday. My mom left me in our piece of shit car when I was only four-years-old. I can still taste my tears, I can still hear my screams, and I can still feel the sweat pouring down my face and body.” I hesitated for a moment, reliving the past for what felt like the hundredth time.