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Chapter 11
KENNEDY
“Grandpa! Grandpa! Guess who I saw!”
Maddie starts yelling the second she’s out of the car, running up onto the porch of the house. My father sits in his rocking chair, stalling his movement. “Who?”
“Breezeo!” she says, stopping on the porch in front of him, flailing her arms as she launches into her story. “He was at the store, and then he didn’t believe that the ducks like kale, so he came to the park to see and he fed the ducks, too! But I think he got scared, ‘cuz he didn’t feed them good, but they ate it anyway.”
My father blinks at her as he absorbs those words. “Breezeo.”
She nods. “But not real Breezeo, ‘cuz he’s not real, so he’s Jonathan.”
“Jonathan.”
Another nod. “I told him he should come here, too, ‘cuz you like Breezeo, and he said maybe he would the next time.”
My father lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Ha! I’d like to see him come here.”
“Dad,” I warn.
“Me, too!” Maddie says, not realizing that’s a borderline threat. She runs inside, leaving me alone with my father. He says nothing, but yet his expression says it all.
“It kind of snowballed,” I say, sitting down on the porch beside him. “We need to have the stranger danger talk because she took to him right away.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” he says. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell her who he is to her.”
“Yeah, no… not sure how to explain it.”
“You just tell her.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“But it is,” he says. “She’s a smart girl. Besides, do you really think she’ll take the news bad?”
“No, I think she’s going to be the happiest kid on the planet, which is half the problem. Because what happens if he lets her down?”
“Hate to break it to you, but that’s not something you can control. Will she ever be disappointed? Probably. But he’ll love her, because who wouldn’t? And if he’s making an effort, she deserves a chance to love him in return.”
He’s right, of course, but he makes it sound so simple when it feels anything but at the moment.
“You realize we’re talking about the same guy that you once called the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone’s daughter?”
He laughs.
“Grandpa, can I have this?” Maddie asks, bursting out onto the porch, holding a banana Popsicle. She licks it, not waiting for permission, a bite already taken off the top.
“What? You want my Popsicle?” He scrunches up his face. “No way! I was saving that for later!”
She freezes, wide eyes flickering between the Popsicle and him. “Uh-oh.”
“I’m kidding,” he says, nudging her. “Of course you can have it, kiddo.”
It’s after dark when we make it home. Maddie’s fast asleep, so I pick her up and manage to carry her into the apartment. Her shoes are already off, abandoned in the car, so I set her in bed as she is, covering her up and kissing her forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.”
She sleepily mumbles something back that sounds like ‘crazy ducks’.
Exhaustion weighs me down, so heavy in my bones that my insides feel brittle, pieces of me already broken. I take a hot bath, trying to relax, but nothing can shut off my thoughts. They’re a jumbled mess.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel anymore.
Getting out of the tub, I throw on my robe and settle in my bedroom. Reaching into my bedside stand, I pull out the old business card and lay down in bed with my cell phone.
Johnny Cunning
Beneath his name is his contact information, along with his management on the other side. The cards are tucked into the envelopes that show up with the grotesque checks. I never accepted a single penny of his money, but once, long ago, I kept one of the cards. Just in case.
Opening my text messages, I type his number in, hesitating as I stare at the blank screen. What to say?
Hey, it’s Kennedy.
I hit send without letting myself think too much about it, knowing if I give myself time to second-guess this, I’ll never go through with it.
A response pops up within seconds.
Hey. Everything okay?
Is everything okay? No. Everything feels so out of control.
Just wondering if you’re busy tomorrow.
No, what’s up?
What’s up is I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do it, whatever this is, while I still have the nerve.
Thought we could get together to tell Maddie the truth.
His response isn’t as quick this time, a minute, maybe two, before a message pops up.
The truth?
Is that a problem?
A few more minutes pass of nothing. I’m starting to wonder if I’m making a mistake when my phone rings, the California number flashing across the screen. He’s calling. My stomach churns. “Hello?”
There’s a moment of hesitation before he says, “I didn’t think you’d actually answer.”
“Yeah, well, I did,” I mumble, thinking I should’ve let it go to voicemail. “So, is there a problem?”
