I can hear the water in the master bathroom shut off followed by light taps of Kendall’s feet hitting the tile floor. The door that was left ajar—a habit she’s had since Sophia was an infant, claiming it was so she could listen for Sophia in case she cries while she’s in the shower—opens and Kendall appears over the threshold. She’s wearing loose sleep shorts that stop high on her thigh with a large T-shirt hanging off her shoulders. She’s rubbing her hands together as if she’s got some creamy lotion plopped in her palm, and she pads to the bed.
“Tommy just sent me a picture of their backyard,” I announce. “They just got it sodded over the weekend.” I turn the phone in my hand, angling it to face her.
“Is that Katy?” she asks, looking at the curly-haired brunette with a gap-toothed smile beaming through the screen. She has on a tulle tutu with bright orange flip-flops, and Kendall stares at the picture in awe as she takes it from me. “I can’t believe how big she’s gotten.”
“She’s what, two? Three years older than Sophia?” I point out.
“Still…it feels like yesterday they were both little babies.” Kendall hands me back my phone. She turns to her nightstand,reaching for more lotion—this one the kind that comes in a large tube. She squeezes a healthy dollop into her palm and starts smearing it over her legs. I try to ignore her bent knee and how her already too-short shorts ride a little higher up her thigh with her heel resting on the bed.
I can’t even remember the last time I touched her. Not something innocent like a tap on her shoulder or even as bold as my hand pressed to the small of her back but really touched her. To feel her skin under my fingertips, run my hands through her chocolaty-auburn hair I know she pays nearly an arm and a leg for, or kiss her on her shoulder, loving how she always lifts it a little to meet me halfway.
“Were you talking to him about our grass?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “He said the Bermuda grass would probably be best for us. Considering we live in Southern California.”
She hums in approval.
I’m tugging at my phone charger, the port already angled to the USB-C end of the cable, when Kendall smooths her hand over the comforter. “You know, Tommy asked when we’re going to visit them.”
“Sylvia asked me too,” Kendall informs me. “Maybe we can visit over the summer?”
“Yeah,” I tell her with a nod. “Soph would like that.”
“I’m starting a new medication,” she announces. The sudden topic shift has my attention sharp and my heart hopeful. She’s talking to me. About other things besides our friends and dinner plans and Sophia.
I set my phone down amid the rumpled cotton and goose down. “Yeah?”
She nods. “My therapist said I should probably speak with the psychiatrist to see if I need any adjustments on my medications, and…”
“When are they going to prescribe it to you?” I play dumb, pretending I didn’t see her covertly stash her new prescription bag in the kitchen.
“They already did,” she answers. “I’ll probably start it over the weekend. In case there are any side effects, I don’t want to deal with it at school.”
“Okay.” I try to sound as encouraging as possible, hoping to keep this amicable air afloat until the morning.
“I…” She hesitates. I watch it work through her chest in hitched breaths and trembling hands. “I know I haven’t even started taking them, but I think they’re going to help.” Her fingers play with the corner of her pillow, and a soft smile plays on her lips. “I’m sorry I’ve been…off a lot lately. I don’t mean to?—”
“I’m sorry too,” I interrupt. “I know you need some space, and I want to give you that, but I just…miss you sometimes.”
The side of her palm brushes mine, and I don’t know if she meant to do that. If it was an accident, something that happened as she adjusted her position on our bed, or if it’s her version of an olive branch.
“I miss me too.”
I don’t know how we got here. It didn’t happen overnight. It was gradual. Like water dripping into a bucket, the hollow splats a constant reminder that something is amiss. Something isn’t right. Until it filled, so close to the brim where it just might overflow and we won’t be able to clean it up. No stack of terry cloth towels or mops or napkins would be enough to wipe it clean and give us a fresh start. But maybe we can empty the bucket before it spills over, even stop the drips from coming while we’re at it.
CHAPTER SIX
Kendall
THEN
“Thoughts?”
I let the fusion mix of raspberry and chai settle on my tongue, the flavors going through different phases on my taste buds. First warm and cozy then sweet then…is that paprika? “I think it’s going to take some getting used to.”
James’s brow quirks, a straw hanging from the corner of his mouth. He takes a long, quiet sip, causing his chest to rise with the heavy inhale. “That’s better than ‘blech, this is disgusting.’”
I purse my lips, attempting to hide the smile forcing its way out. I shake my cup, the ice clattering inside, and take another sip, observing James from across the round wrought-iron table. It’s sunny outside, and despite the usually humid summer air, it’s crisp today. The clouds drift calmly above in the slightly chilly air. There’s an ease to him I can’t quite place. It could be the dark set of Ray-Bans perched on his nose or the way his coiffed hair seems to have a mind of its own, interfacing with the breeze to sweep across his forehead in flawlessly timed beats. But I feel like I could sit here and talk to him all day, peculiar-tasting chai lattes and all. His elbows are resting on the table, the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt rolled about halfway up his forearms, and I can’t help but get distracted every timehis muscles flex. Especially when he brings his straw to his lips. Another set of distractions I don’t even want to get into.
