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It’s probably none of my business.
At the same time, my years in customer service have taught me that a little personal attention can go a long way—and in that way, maybe this is my business.
I remember Mandy saying how Kate’s relentless calls drove her crazy. Maybe if I spend some time talking to Kate now, I can fix the issue of her calling several times a day. That doesn’t seem to be serving anyone.
Plus, I have to admit, she’s piqued my curiosity. Something must have happened between her and Brock for the relationship to be this far off track. What was it?
“He thinks I’m messy,” Kate says. “And heaven knows, Brock can’t handle messes. He likes everything to be perfect. Perfect, orderly, and under his thumb, and I’m none of those things. I guess that time I got arrested and called him in the middle of the night to bail me out didn’t help matters. He did bail me out, but he’s kept his distance from me since then.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Sure, I woke him up, and it was bad that I got arrested in the first place, and yeah, I dragged him into it by asking for the bail money. But, I mean, come on. I was twenty-two and didn’t want to call our parents.” She sighs again, dragging the exhale out dramatically. “No one is perfect, you know. Not me, certainly not him—though he pretends to be.”
“What did you get arrested for?”
“It was stupid. I was young, hanging with some low-life friends, and I let them pressure me into shoplifting mascara.”
“Oooh, peer pressure will get you. I remember doing plenty of dumb things thanks to getting egged on by a group.”
“Yeah, well, that stint earned me a ride in a cruiser.”
“I once had a friend who used to steal glitter pens from the drugstore. In the end, it came out that it was an attention-seeking thing. Like, on some level, she wanted to be caught. Her parents were getting divorced, and she was acting out.”
“Brock and I went through the whole parents-getting-divorced thing way before that, honey. We were way little. Brock was four. I wasn’t even walking.”
Ah. Another interesting fact about Brock.
And another thing I don’t really want to know.
It actually makes me feel sort of sorry for him, to picture him as a kid that young, navigating the separation of the two god-like adult figures in his life.
A breeze rustles the branches of a big oak tree on the edge of Brock’s driveway. A few orange-and-yellow leaves twirl down my way. “Wow, that’s young. My parents were never married, so they couldn’t divorce.”
“They never married?” Kate snaps her gum. In the background, I hear traffic: the hum of many engines, the hiss of air brakes, horns honking. “What was up with that?” she wants to know.
“My mom was kind of a flower child—a hippy. And my dad’s a traveling musician. He wasn’t around much at all. My mom and my aunts raised me and Clay. Are you driving?”
“I wish. I’ve been stuck in traffic on the freeway for hours. Barely moving, a couple feet every few minutes and that’s it. The construction around here is crazy. Sitting here makes me feel antsy. Hey—can I ask you something?”
“Fire away.”
“This is probably weird since I don’t know you that well. But I have to talk to someone. I’m, like, bursting with this. Maybe it’s the hormones. I’m all over the place lately.”
I laugh. “Sister, I get it. Hormones can be tricky. Sometimes dealing with my hormones feels like riding a rollercoaster.”
She’s had a hard edge to her tone, but it suddenly softens, and she laughs, too. “I know, right? But, Gwen, this isn’t the usual once-a-month roller coaster; this is a whole new ballpark. I’m pregnant.”
“No way! Kate, congratulations! That’s wonderful.”
“I wish it was wonderful. But, to be real with you, I’m freaking out. Losing it. Because—do you really have time for this?”
“Talking with you is way better than figuring out how to package the designer nylon thong on my passenger seat,” I tell her.
That earns me another laugh. “Wait, why do you have to package up designer skivvies?”
“It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you another time.”
“I hope so. And if it’s designer, you better use bubble wrap so the fabric doesn’t snag on any cardboard edges or anything.”
