“Sometimes it’s easier not to talk at all.” His response monotone and weary.
Don’t push it. “Then we can just sit here and drink.”
Kenzie leaned back and shrugged. “Fuck it.” A gulp of beer and he began. “A few weeks ago, my moms died in a car accident.”
“Oh my god, Kenzie.” How badly she wanted to hug him, but the flinch in his body—the invisible barbed wire encircling him—said keep away. “I’m so sorry.” Oona brought her beer to her face but didn’t drink it. “I know how awful it is to lose a parent so young. My dad died when I was eleven. I was there when it happened. He fell off a boat and I laughed because he made such a silly face as he went over. I mean, he was a good swimmer, I didn’t think for a second he might drown.” She pushed the glass aside. “I still feel like an asshole for laughing.”
For the first time that night, he didn’t slide his gaze away when he looked at her. “I feel like an asshole every day. I was getting stoned and playing video games when my moms died.”
“That doesn’t make you an asshole.”
“You don’t know me.”
But I do. I will. “I have a feeling you’re a good kid.”
His face crumpled, but he stopped short of tears, held on to the edge of the table as he composed himself. “I’m not a good kid, I’m a loser. I dropped out of school, put my mothers’ house up for sale, and now I’m just wandering around.”
“It’s okay to be lost for a little while.”
“I don’t eat, I don’t sleep. But I’m always hungry and always tired.”
“Well, hey, I’m married to a chef who can feed you, I have a spare bedroom, and if you’re looking for something to do, I’m in the market for a personal assistant.” Great, now you’ll definitely scare him off.
But his reaction wasn’t fearful or discomfited. Instead, his eyebrows lifted and eyes grew shiny, like the offer both pained and pleased him. “I’m staying with a friend, but thanks.” He got to his feet. “I need a smoke.”
“Want me to get another round in the meantime?”
“Naw, I think I’m done.”
Aching disappointment radiated within her. She gathered her coat and purse and followed him outside. “Are you getting a cab?”
“Subway.”
They walked west toward Broadway, Kenzie setting a slow, deliberate pace.
“What gets me is how angry I am all the time. And not just about my moms’ deaths, but stupid shit.” He stopped in front of a Starbucks and pointed at it. “Like, why does Astor Place have two Starbucks across the fucking street from each other?”
“Not to piss you off further, but there’s actually a third Starbucks in the Barnes & Noble across the street from that one.” She tilted her head toward Lafayette. “It’s one of those annoying New York things.”
“It makes me want to punch a fire hydrant. Every day, it’s something else. And…” His face twisted into a grimace. “A few years ago, I had a bad falling-out with one of my moms. I never had a chance to tell her how much she hurt me, and I know it’s time to forgive her and let it go, but I can’t. I’m sad and I miss her, but I still need more time to be mad at her.” A wrought-iron fence separated the tables outside the coffee shop from the sidewalk, and Kenzie gripped the railing like he wanted to tear it out of the ground.
“Then be mad at her.” Was the same kind of rage gnawing at her mother? Perhaps Madeleine had come into the city intending to put the fight behind them, but found herself still angry. In which case, giving away her concert ticket wasn’t meant to punish Oona as much as shield her. “Maybe you need to give it more time.”
“Yeah. And distance. I thought New York would be a good place to shake it off. Get lost in the chaos. Or at least have company for my misery—all these people wearing black, looking like they’d rather be somewhere else.”
“Maybe you haven’t given New York enough of a chance.” Or me. Such potential for perfect symmetry, for her to help him with his grief as he’d helped with hers.
“Or maybe I just need to be somewhere else. Get lost somewhere farther away.” His grip on the fence loosened. “I’ve always wanted to visit Asia. Did you know Thailand is called the Land of Smiles?”
And there it was. “I didn’t know that.” Her windpipe narrowed and she blinked rapidly. “I’ve only seen pictures, but it looks like a beautiful country.”
A thoughtful nod and Kenzie let go of the railing, resumed walking. “I’ve been reading up on it and it seems so damn cool. There are jungles and temples and all these different islands. On New Year’s, they have a giant water fight, and every full moon, one island throws a big party…”
As he continued to speak of Thailand’s wonders, his voice brightened, and Oona became more deflated. She couldn’t keep him here; it would be selfish to even try.
When they reached the Eighth Street N/R station, Kenzie started down the steps, but Oona hung back. “I’m actually going to take a taxi.” She didn’t want to put a damper on his travel plans, and her supportive smile wouldn’t hold much longer.
“Hang on.” He bounded back up. “If you give me your address, I’ll send you a postcard.”
“Sure.” She scrawled it on the back of a receipt; the paper quivered when she handed it to him. “Wait!” Even though he’d be out of harm’s way when the tsunami hit Southeast Asia in 2004, she had to warn him, in case she was the reason why he ended up safe. “Get out of Asia in December. Something awful is going to happen. There’s no rational way I can tell you how I know, I just need you to trust me on this.”
Narrowing one eye, he said, “Um, okay, Nostradamus. Who knows, I might get bored after a couple of weeks and give New York another try.”
But she knew it would be more than a couple of weeks. All this waiting, as if the scattered pieces of her life would ever fall into place.
As they regarded each other, Kenzie’s smirk faded into a beseeching look.
Was he waiting for her to say more?
“I hope we’ll meet again” was all she could think of.
“Me too.” He gave a lingering nod and disappeared down into the station.
Oona took a cab home and found Edward hanging up his jacket in the foyer.
“Fancy meeting you here.” A pleased smile and he took her in his arms. “How was the concert?”
“Strange” was all she could get out before a great weariness muted her.
“Hey, hey.” He stroked her hair as she buried her head in his shoulder. “What is it, love?”
But she didn’t have the words to articulate what “it” was, and she was too tired to cry, so she just stood there as her temporary husband held her.
22
The blowout with Madeleine and the heart-wrenching evening with Kenzie left Oona depressed, so she kept busy in the following weeks by converting her den into a home theater. She had a giant screen and surround-sound speakers installed, along with two rows of seating, microfiber love seats on the lower tier and reclining leather chairs on the upper. Red velvet drapes on either side of the screen and an antique popcorn machine completed the effect.