Page 89 of Whirlwind
My mom tried to be more understanding, but I think she wanted to use some foul language with me, too.
Me:
Just pulled up.
Lottie:
Glad you made it safe. Don’t fuck up anymore, dickhead.
Me:
I won’t. Promise.
The house isn’t much bigger than Kit’s in Seattle. This house has seen better days. The pale yellow paint is dingy and peeling, several of the shutters are hanging on for dear life, and I’d be shocked if the roof isn’t leaking. I’m scared the front door will cave in if I knock too hard, so I rap on it lightly.
“Hi, Tyson,” Damian greets when he opens the door.
“Hey, thanks for getting her here.”
“Of course, family first,” he says, moving aside to let me in.
Following the sound of voices, I walk down the short hall. There’s a bathroom at the end, a bedroom on either side. Kit and Willa stand just inside the door of the one on the left.
“That’s where I slept if I stayed over,” Kit says, pointing to a futon mattress lying on the floor in the corner. “I wonder why she never got rid of it.”
“Maybe she wanted to keep a place for you, just in case,” I say, and she spins around to face me. She stares at me, her eyes haunted. I don’t say anything more, not with words, anyway. If I can convey them silently, that’s what I’m attempting to do. There’s something intimate in the silent eye contact. Something transcendent. If I vocalized that, she’d laugh at me and ask if I want to go look up my horoscope. So, I keep my sappy lips shut, for now. She bounces on her toes, and I just know she’s curling them inside her shoes. “Hey, Kit.”
I hold my arms out at my sides, and she steps into me, letting me wrap them around her.
“Hi.”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” I say.
“You shouldn’t have come, Tyson,” she says, the words muffled in my shirt. My heart cracks, but I knew this wouldn’t be easy.
“I’ll leave if you want, go check into the motel. But I’m not leaving Maine until you do.”
“You have a game tomorrow.”
“I made a promise,” I say, cupping her face. “When you’re back at home safely, I’ll go back to work.”
“I haven’t forgiven you,” she whispers.
“You don’t need to forgive me for me to keep my promises to you,” I say. “You don’t owe me that, or anything else. Okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees after a moment.
“Did you see your father?”
“He dropped the key under the mat before we got here,” she says, shaking her head.
Thank fuck for small miracles.
“How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know, really. It’s weird being here,” she says. “It’s weird you’re here, too. I appreciate it, Tyson. I do. I just don’t…”
“I get it, Kit,” I say. I wish things were different, but the last thing I want is to make any of this harder for her. “I’ll go to the motel. I’m only here as a friend who cares about you. A lot. I needed to see you. I know I fucked up, and we can talk about that back in Seattle, whenever you’re ready. But I meant what I said. I’m here until you aren’t.”
