15. Kennedy

I’ve been upfor hours, physically unable to shut my eyes and sleep. I took melatonin and listened to new-age meditation music on my streaming app, but nothing is working. It probably didn’t help that after hanging up with Shane, I called my Mom.

“Are you all settled in, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” I sniffle, unable to control my emotions.

“What’s wrong? I can hear it in your voice.”

“Mom, is your home office set up yet?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’m not sure I can live here.”

“Did you argue with your father already? You just got there.”

“I want to live with you instead of Dad when I come home for holidays and the summer.”

“Kennedy, we discussed this already. You were adamant about staying in the house.”

“No, Dad was adamant, and you agreed.”

More like folded.

“I remember it differently,” she says. “We gave you a choice, and you made it.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Kennedy–”

“Are you punishing me for choosing the only life I’ve ever known?”

“No, of course not.”

“What was so wrong with me wanting to stay in my bedroom, in my house, in the neighborhood I grew up in? The two of you may have wanted to separate for years, but remember, for me, it was a brand-new development. Everything was changing so fast, and then you both forced me to make an impossible decision at a time in my life when I was under the most stress.”

It’s possible I was born to two of the most self-absorbed adults on the planet. I don’t think either one of them ever really considered the impact their choices would make on me, especially last year.

“I’ll admit that we didn’t have the greatest timing.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Have you talked to your therapist this week, baby?”

I hate that I do, but I feel horrible once I hear the tears in my mother’s voice. None of this is my fault, but I didn’t mean to upset her. Regardless of our difficult relationship or any missteps she may have made with me, I should remember that she has probably had the toughest road during this divorce. My dad still owns the house and has a larger income, and now he has this new girlfriend.

“Not yet, Mom. I’m too busy with classes and stuff.”

“You can never be too busy to take care of your mental health. Maybe you can call her while you’re home for Thanksgiving?”

Frustrated with the direction of this conversation, I want an answer to my original question. “Can I come stay with you or not?”

“I wish you would tell me what’s really wrong. This all feels very sudden.”

I knew it.

I shouldn’t have asked.

That’s a no, and I can probably guess why. She picked her smaller condo unit based on my decision to live with my father. Some mothers would have made a different decision, I guess, but she was counting on me spending most of the next four years of my life in Nevada and coming home for an occasional sleepover, not this. I think I’ll have to tell her what’s up with Dad so she understands what I’m dealing with, plus she deserves to know.

“I just found out some surprising news about Daddy today.”

“What is it?”

“He’s dating someone.”

She pauses momentarily, then responds in a steady voice, “Good for him.”

“No, Mom, it’s serious.”

“Okay…how serious?”

“He’s moving the woman into the house, and I haven’t even told you the worst part. She has a son.”

“A son?” my mother’s voice quivers.

“Not a baby but a grown man who goes to my school. He’ll be moving in with us, too.”

“Wait…what?”

Now she gets it. I probably should have led with this.

“Exactly, Ma!”

“Where did he…I mean, how long has this been going on?” she stutters through her question, clearly upset with the news as well.

“Dad met her at VCU.”

“When he took you over the summer?”

“Yes. Can you believe that? He was supposed to be there supporting my final decision, not treat it like a singles bar.”

“And you didn’t know anything about this until today?”

“No, Dad and I weren’t together the whole time at the event. I guess they exchanged numbers or something at the parent presentation in the auditorium.”

“And he’s been seeing her all this time and just sprang it on you today?”

“Yep, he never mentioned it.”

“Wow, I’m surprised at him.”

“The fact that he kept it a secret?”

“Humph, your father could always hold a secret, but he never seemed to be the long-distance relationship type.”

“Oh, she’s not long distance. She lives in New Jersey.”

“Oh.”

“But Mom, the bigger issue for me is the son.”

“I can’t imagine what your father is thinking.”

“I don’t think Dad is doing any thinking at all. He doesn’t know this woman he’s fallen for, and he definitely doesn’t know her son.”

“Does the son know about what’s going on?”

“Yes, he knows.”

“So you’re friends with him?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends exactly.”

“How does he feel about their relationship?”

“It’s hard to tell with Shane. He’s never too serious about anything and seems pretty close with his mom. I think he’d go along with anything she wanted to make her happy.”

“This Shane sounds like a nice enough boy.”

I sense my mother is trying to do what she always does–avoid confrontation and spin the situation into something “doable,” which I don’t want to hear.

“The last thing I need is to share my private space with some nice enough boy.”

“I understand,” my mother says solemenly. “Just give your dad Thanksgiving, and I’ll have a discussion with him about your living arrangements moving forward.”

A wave of relief fills my chest even though I’ve brought my Mom to tears to make it happen.

I’m the worst.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“The only thing I ask is that you call your therapist tomorrow.”

Crap.

Part of the agreement I made with my folks when deciding to attend VCU was to continue with regular phone or virtual sessions with my therapist, but I haven’t spoken with Dr. Torres in almost seven weeks. I don’t want to discuss my feelings right now. It brings too much stuff up. My Mom and I are on an honor system, though, so I could tell her I’ve had a session, and she’d never know.

“And just so you know, Kennedy, I can see whether you’ve had sessions in the health portal. You haven’t spoken to Demetria since September. If you continue to break your part of the agreement, I’ll also have to include that information when I have my conversation with your father.”

Dammit.

Parents are so crafty.

I completely forgot about the online portal.

“I’ll text her right now,” I sigh in defeat.

“Good.”

After we hang up, I initiate a brief text exchange with Dr. Torres, then screenshot the conversation and send it to my mother as proof. My phone rings soon afterward, and I answer it without looking at the screen, assuming it’s Mom again.

“I did it,” I tell her.

My core has a visceral reaction when I hear the baritone of Shane’s voice on the other line. It aches–like my vagina has a mind of her own.

And that bitch is needy.

“Did what?”

“I figured out a way to get my mom to drop the idea of doing Thanksgiving at your house.”

“So you’re finally doing your part, huh?” I say with sarcasm.

“Under one condition,” he adds.

I suck my teeth. “What is with everyone giving me ultimatums today?”

“Who else gave you one?” he sounds annoyed or maybe concerned.

“Never mind that. Just tell me what your terms are, hockey boy.”

“I want you to hang with me on Friday night.”

“As in the day after Thanksgiving?” I ask incredulously.

“That would be correct,” he snickers.

“Hang with you where and why? Isn’t that the day of your party?”

What’s his angle?

“Yeah, I want you to come. I’ll drive over the bridge and pick you up, so don’t worry about that part. The party starts right after the football game, so it will be an early start, like seven.”

“Us hanging out together doesn’t feel like something that will help us achieve our goal, Shane. That isn’t part of the parent trap formula.”

“I swear you are the funniest girl I’ve ever met, and you don’t even realize it,” he laughs. “If I remember correctly, making the parents think we’re on board with the relationship at first is part of the trickery.”

“Ah-hah! So you did watch the movie?”

“You can conduct a Google search for the plot of any movie ever made, Kennedy,” he responds flatly.

“Yeah, but I think you actually watched it,” I tease.

“Do you accept my terms or not?”

“Where is this party?”

“It’s at my friend Kendall’s house. She lives in Pineboro too about ten minutes from me.”

“And who is Kendall?”

“A good friend from high school.”

“Were you ever romantically involved with this Kendall person?”

“Is there any particular reason why you want to know?”

“I’m just asking what seems to be the most logical questions.”

“Or maybe you’re a little jealous?”

“Not even close, hockey boy. I just want to know if you’re using me to make some old flame of yours jealous.”

“Everything is not a romance movie plot, Kennedy. There’s no ulterior motive. It’s just a hang.”

I’m not a huge party person, especially when it comes to unsupervised house parties, which I imagine this is. Still, I want Thanksgiving dinner canceled so badly that I’m willing to be uncomfortable for a few hours to make it happen.

“I just want to understand my role.”

“There is no role for you to play. Like I said, it’s just a hang.”

“Fine, but how do I know your mother will cancel dinner?”

“She’ll tell your dad tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“And she’ll cancel because you told her to?”

“Please,” he scoffs. “You haven’t met Kate Sullivan yet. I can’t tell my mother to do anything.”

“Then how–”

“You never said I had to reveal my methods.”

“You don’t. It’s just…I’m impressed.”

“Well, that’s understandable. I’m an impressive motherfucker.”

“Calm down, okay, you’re not all of that.” The lie rolls effortlessly off my tongue, but the truth is that there are things I like about Shane.

Lots of things.

“You’ll find out soon enough just how impressive I am, beautiful. Enjoy Thanksgiving dinner and be ready by eight on Friday.”

Then, Shane unceremoniously ends the call.

And finally…I can sleep.