14. Kennedy

As I lie in bed,the ceiling offers little comfort, just a blank expanse mirroring my isolation. This house, once my sanctuary, now feels like a cage. The thought of our upcoming Thanksgiving dinner, which should have been a chill occasion, now feels like an impending storm. Caught in a web of emotions, I lie here, trapped, wondering how to find my way out.

I stand up and start pacing back and forth across my trusty Hello Kitty area rug, my mind racing. The thought of sitting across from Shane at Thanksgiving dinner, pretending everything is normal, seems unthinkable. I need to do something, anything, to prevent that from happening.

With a deep breath, I pick up my cell phone and pull up Shane”s number, my heart pounding in my chest.

Gah! I can’t call him.

I don’t have the nerve right now.

So I text.

Me: Are you awake?

Shane: Hey, beautiful.

Me: Do you know?

Shane: …

There’s a long pause as the three dots in the text message window pulse, then disappear, and then pulse again.

Shane: Yes, I know.

I immediately press the call button so I can speak to him directly. I don’t want to have the rest of this conversation via text.

“Hey,” Shane”s voice is casual when he picks up, but I get straight to the point.

“You have to talk your mother into not coming here for Thanksgiving dinner,” I say, forgoing any pleasantries.

There’s a pause on the other end. “And how would I do that?”

“Use your charming personality.”

“You think I’m charming?” I can hear his smile through the phone.

“Shane, this is serious. You can’t tell me that you’re completely unaffected by this news. Did you know about this before we came home?”

“Of course not.”

“You realize she’s trying to move you both into my house?”

Shane”s tone shifts, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.“The she you’re referring to is my mother, and she’s not trying to do anything. It was your father’s big idea for us to move there.”

“They barely know each other.”

“That’s true but–”

I don’t think through the next words that come from my mouth. I just blurt them out. “Are y’all in financial trouble or something?”

“What did you say?” his voice is tight.

I feel a lump form in my throat, but there’s no benefit to anyone for me to pull punches. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m wondering why your mother would move herself and her son into a stranger’s home after only a few months of dating.”

“Are you calling my mom a gold digger? Because that sounds super fucking judgmental even for you.”

“Even for me?!” My frustration boils over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your father owns a couple of pizza spots. He’s no Bill Gates.”

“I didn’t say he was but–”

“We’re not broke, Kennedy, and my mother would never sell herself for a couple of coins.”

“Okay, now you’re just putting words in my mouth. I never said she was selling herself.”

“My mom has a great job,” he continues, clearly upset with me. “An honest job. She doesn’t need to find some geriatric sugar daddy to pay our bills. She never did, and she never will.”

“Don’t call my father a sugar daddy. He’s not some rich, old man.”

“He’s way older than my Momma, so what else should I call him?”

“How do you even know their age difference?”

“She told me.”

“Teen mom told you what?”

“Very original,” he scoffs. “Mom told me she got herself a silver fox.”

“My father is not a silver fox!” I shout in frustration. “Did your mom tell you he hasn’t even been divorced for six months?”

“She did.”

“That’s not a red flag to you?”

“I don’t interfere in my Mom’s personal life. Just like I wouldn’t want her snooping around in mine.”

“So you mean to tell me that you have no problem uprooting your entire life in Jersey and moving into a strange house with people you barely know?”

“I know you.”

“Actually, you don’t.”

“I know everything I need to know. We go to the same university, so you’re smart. We’re in the same freshman seminar class, and you’re our project leader. We just took a plane ride together, and you held my hand to comfort me, so you’re compassionate. We kissed, so I know–”

“Let me stop you there,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear what personality trait our kiss revealed. “You basically threw me under the bus and assigned me project leader, and you made me hold your hand on the plane!”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Have you hit your head on the ice one too many times?It’s the only way to look at it.”

“You could have pulled it away,” he says facetiously. “But you didn’t. Just like the night of the crawl when you kissed me.”

“I kissed you?” I repeat incredulously. “I kissed you?”

“I love how you took the initiative on that. Women’s rights! By the way, I’m totally down with us doing that again, even if you end up becoming my stepsister.”

“I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

He lets out the heaviest belly laugh, and I’m so glad we can’t see each other because I inadvertently smile the way I always do when I hear or see Shane Sullivan’s joy.

It’s infuriating.

“Listen, stop joking around and get your mom to bail on Thanksgiving. The last thing I want is to have some weird ass family dinner with all of us. Then once we get back to school we’ll figure out a way to Parent Trap this shit and get them to break up.”

“Parent trap them?” he laughs.

“It’s a perfectly sound strategy. That’s why they made a movie about it twice!”

“You realize that was a work of fiction, not a documentary? We can’t break up two grown-ass adults in real life.”

“Who says we can’t?”

“Is this meltdown you’re having actually about our parents hooking up, or is this about us?”

“There is no us, Shane Sullivan.”

His voice drops an octave, and it makes my clit pulsate.

“There is now, beautiful.”