Page 81 of Play Your Part

ALEXEI

Kennedy found me in the backyard a couple of hours later, in the exact spot she’d stood in two months ago.

My father being here for Thanksgiving with my mother almost made me leave. They had been through this countless times before—breaking up and making up, arguing until they hated each other, my father disappearing to live on his own. I couldn’t stand to watch it unfold again. He cared more about himself and his own aspirations than what it took to make it work with my mom.

And I was just like him. As much as I didn’t want to be, things always went sideways in my relationships. There would be a commitment I missed because I stayed too long at practice, or I would zone out because I was thinking about a game the next day. I would forget to call. I made decisions about my life without consulting my significant other.

The worst part? I recognized this pattern in hindsight, but never in the moment. That was how immersed I became in my own shit.

I partially blamed my parents. They raised me to look out for myself, to have blinders on to reach the goal I desperately wanted, to shove everything else aside.

“Fancy finding you here,” Kennedy said, no tinge of embarrassment or annoyance in her voice. I half expected it after putting my feelings out there in front of everyone. She probably thought it was all part of the show.

“I knew you’d know where to look.”

“So you’re not avoiding me?” she asked, taking a seat beside me on the top step of the stairs to the backyard. The stairs she sat on the first night we met. “Who then?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not in the mood for our usual banter. “I needed air.”

“Dinner went okay, I think.” When I said nothing, Kennedy bumped her shoulder with mine. “This is the part where you tell me what you think.”

“It went fine.”

She rested her head on my shoulder. Her sleeves were bunched in the palms of her hands, maybe a nervous habit or the chill in the night. Either way, I shrugged off my jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She tossed me a grateful smile and settled back into me as I hoped she would.

“I was supposed to go back to college last year. Right before my mom died. I didn’t want to leave after what happened with my dad. Besides, all my friends had graduated. But my mom wouldn’t hear it. She insisted I go back to school. We were driving home from a shopping trip when the accident happened.”

Kennedy took a deep breath. I braced myself for the words that would follow, knowing she had to work herself up to them. I wished more than anything I could save her the pain of having to relive it. Something told me she needed to tell this story, that she sought me out to do so.

Her pause lasted a minute but felt like an hour, so long I thought she wouldn’t continue.

“I don’t remember much because we went straight into the highway median. I woke up and she didn’t. Some people would’ve taken that as a sign to live life to the fullest… but for me, it was the opposite. The world dimmed. I became painfully aware of how easy it was to lose what mattered most. Everyone wanted me to get over it and move on with my life.”

“You’re never going to get over losing your mom, Kennedy.” My arm went around her shoulders, my fingers tracing the top of her arm. “I think you should do whatever you need to do. It doesn’t matter if someone else understands or approves. You know what’s right for you.”

“I wish I could move on. Not so I can do what is expected of me, but… I miss how I felt before she died.”

“How did you feel?”

“Full of possibilities.” She lifted her head to meet my eyes. “I’m thankful for you, Alexei. For shaking up my routine. Arguing with me. Bringing me out of my shell. Making me feel everything I’d shoved down.”

I leaned my head against hers, wiping away a single tear falling down her cheek.

“Two months ago, on this spot, you told me I had some nerve to insult you after what I’d done. A lot can change in two months.”

“A lothaschanged in two months,” she corrected. “And it will change again soon.”

The statement sat like two-day-old milk in my stomach. The reminder of our impending end felt wrong after today, after this moment between us.

“You know I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyelashes fluttered, moisture reflecting on them in the light from the back of the house. “Friends after this, remember?”

Friends.Part of me still didn’t know if I could do it—remain her friend—but I knew I couldn’t pretend I never knew her, that we hadn’t shared moments like this. I wasn’t sure what would be worse—her fully gone or still in my life like a ghost, someone I couldn’t let go. Eventually, I would learn the answer.

But not tonight. No, tonight, I would sit under the stars, snuggled against my fake girlfriend, my friend, the woman I was falling in love with.

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ALEXEI

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