Walk with Me (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream) (29 page)

“Congratulations,” Uncle William says. “You know, Kenna, I’m very proud of you. You are becoming quite the capable young woman.”

“Thanks.” I look down at my plate, picking at my rice. I’ve never been one to accept praise well. It makes me self-conscious.

“And how’s that young man of yours, Donovan? I haven’t seen him for a while. Are you two still dating?”

“Yep. He’s great,” I boast with a giant grin etched on my face.

“Wow. You’ve got it bad for him.”

“Is it that obvious?” I cock my head to the side, trying to suppress my blatant enthusiasm with just hearing his name.

“I’d say so. Your mood just did a one-eighty. Now I know your trigger.” He chuckles at me. “No. All kidding aside, he seems like a very nice young man—very responsible and respectful. Something you don’t see much these days with this generation.”

“Yeah. I think he’s pretty great, too.” I try to suppress the smile on my face but pride overtakes my self-control. “We should all three go out for your birthday in May. We can do lunch at Lawry’s or the restaurant of your choice.”

“That sounds lovely. Just the three of us?”

“Yeah.” I furrow my brow. “Did you want to invite Felix, too?”

“No. No.” He pauses. “Have you talked to your mother lately?”

Surprise consumes me, and all I can do is blink at Uncle William’s question. Does he know about the letter? Maybe my mom told him she was going to write me.

“You know, Kenna…” I sense his lecture coming on. “She’s been having a really hard time since you left. It’s been almost two years since you left home and you haven’t once called her or even tried to reach out to her.”

“That’s because I have nothing to say to her.” If just mentioning Donovan’s name is a trigger to lift my mood, then mentioning my mother is a trigger to bring it down. “You know, Uncle William, we didn’t part on the best terms.” I can taste the venom in my mouth.

“I feel like I’ve come such a long way in creating a better life for myself in a short period of time. And I’m just not ready to let her back in. Part of me worries that she’ll try to ruin or undo all that I’ve worked so hard to accomplish.” Which is true. When I have good news to share, my mother isn’t the one I think to call because instead of lifting me up she would try to knock me down to her level. And once she gets her claws back in me, it may be harder to leave again.

“But she’s family. She’s your mother and she loves and misses you.”

“Well, she certainly has a funny way of showing it,” I say, not able to keep contempt out of my tone. “She has never once shown me any support for my hopes and dreams. It’s always been what she thinks is best for me. She never listened to what I wanted or even needed from her. Everything and every decision was always based on what was best for her and her life, how it looked to others from the outside, how she benefited from my choices. I just got tired of being another accessory in her life—her perfect daughter to show off and brag to others.”

I throw my napkin on the table. Talking about my mother is more than a buzzkill—it’s an appetite suppressant.

“Mom hasn’t shown any support or encouragement with my new life. As a matter-of-fact, I get the feeling she’s hoping I fall on my face and come crawling back to her. And you know what, Uncle William, you can tell her that will be the last thing I do.”

Uncle William continues on to champion my mother’s cause. “That is not the case at all, Kenna. Maybe in the beginning her pride was hurt at the way you left home so abruptly and a little surreptitiously, but she is proud of your strong will and determination to make it on your own without anyone’s help. You’re sort of a chip off the old block, in that way. She was a lot like you, too. She came out here to California with you all alone, you know. She was so young and had already been through so much in her life before you were born, but she was determined to create a new life—a better life for you and her.”

He shifts in his seat to face his body toward me. I sit quietly, taking it all in. “Everything your mother has done has been for your benefit, to create a life of stability for you.”

You could have fooled me because I could have done without living in fear of being beat or punished every day for the last twelve years that I lived with those monsters.

“I know the marriage to Richard has been a loveless one.”

Loveless, he doesn’t know the half of it.

“She has had to make personal sacrifices in her own life to provide a stable homelife for you. She did the best she could with the tools she was given. You have to remember, she left home at sixteen years old when her mother made her give up her first child for adoption. She was just a child herself. And you, leaving the way you did, have made her stop and take stock of her own life. It’s brought back memories from when she left home.

“The last thing she’s wanted is for you to make the same mistakes she has made, and go through the same trials and tribulations that she has had to endure. I know that you feel she was trying to control your decisions in life, but what she was really trying to do was guide you to avoid the same pitfalls as her.

“So cut her a little slack. She’s my niece, too, and I love both of you and it hurts to see my family torn apart.” He takes a deep breath and talks on his exhale. “Okay. Enough said. I won’t lecture you anymore about it. You just promise
me
that you will think about reaching out to her. Okay?”

I nod in quiet contemplation from my uncle’s words. I’ve never thought of it that way. I’ve always thought of my mother’s marriage to Richard as a selfish move, so she didn’t have to work anymore—she was sacrificing my safety and well-being for her own material comfort. But could it be she was sacrificing her own well-being and safety for me? Maybe she thought she was doing right by providing me with what she thought was going to be a “stable” homelife with Richard, and when it turned out that it wasn’t, she was stuck with him. Maybe she sent me off to be with my uncle on the weekends as a respite from dealing with Richard, not as a favor to Richard but as a favor to me, to protect me from Richard’s craziness over the weekends. I need to think long and hard about this because if that’s true, it does change my perspective a little bit.

“So what’s the latest gossip with Danielle and her boyfriend Tyler?” Uncle William interrupts my internal dialog, bringing me back to the table with him.

I smile slimly and look up at Uncle William, catching a glimpse of the bruise on his cheek. “I love you, Uncle William,” I say and reach over to give him a hug.

“I love you, too, Matilda,” he says, hugging me back. “What brought that on?”

“I don’t think I tell you enough, and I’m thankful for our Wednesday dinners.” I shift back in my chair, resuming my meal.

I’m folding my last load of laundry. While organizing my drawer, I expose an envelope on the bottom. It’s the letter from my mom. I buried it in here earlier this week and purposely forgot about it.

I gingerly take the letter out of the drawer and sit on the edge of my bed, palming it. I know I’m stronger now, more confident in myself and the person I’ve become, and the person I’m still defining. But am I still susceptible to my mother’s barbs—her hook-like words to my psyche? Am I ready to read this letter, and trust my reaction to her words?

I turn the letter over, trailing my fingers over her writing. I balance the envelope in my open palms, judging the weight of the letter. It’s light, maybe one page, but there are ridges outlining a small square inside, too. A picture? My index finger finds an opening under the seal and I separate the flap. I pull the trifold letter out from the envelope and lay the empty envelope on the bed next to me. The letter is written on simple white paper. I unfold the page and a small picture falls into my lap. It’s a picture of just my mom and me when I was about five or six. I don’t recognize where the picture was taken, but we look happy—both of us smiling brightly for the camera, with me on my mom’s lap, and her arms encircling me loosely. This must have been taken before Richard came into the picture, literally, before our lives changed.

I lay the picture down on top of the envelope and unfold the letter. My mother’s penmanship is so beautiful, nothing like my chicken scratch. The fluid movement of her hand makes letter writing an art. It’s one page in length. I inhale deeply and exhale sharply, blowing a loose strand of hair away from my face, and sit up a little straighter, readying myself for her words.

Dear Kenna,

It is my sincerest wish that this letter finds you well, though, I have no doubt you are capable of taking care of yourself.

Your hasty and unpredictable departure left me angry at first and then confused and searching. I didn’t understand your actions. I thought we were both working toward the same goal
—
for you to finish college and have a career. I see now that I wasn’t being the supportive mom I should have been. I was living my dreams through you. I was trying to make you into the person I always wanted to be, to live the life I always wanted to have.

Your leaving, though painful, has been more of a growing pain for me. I have done a lot of soul-searching over the past few months and I see more clearly the error of my actions.

I have been following your life through Uncle William. I’m very proud of you. You have given me the strength to make changes in my own life. I have left Richard. I’m in the process of filing for divorce from him. I’ve kicked him out and have a restraining order in place against him. I’m at a place in my life where having my daughter is more important.

When you are ready to reach out to me, I’ll be here waiting with open arms. 310-593-3045.

Love,

Your Mother

I sit stock-still, my eyes bouncing from word to word trying to absorb her meaning. She left Richard? Why? I thought they were perfect together. They had that sick relationship and they seemed to love it. I see the symbolism in the picture, but where are the double meanings, the cutting comments. This doesn’t seem like her typical writing. Has she changed? Are they really getting divorced? Do I want to find out? Oh God. I don’t need this extra pressure on me. My life is busy enough. I don’t want or need this complication. Do I?

I need Donovan. He’ll help me figure this out. I look at the clock beside my bed. Shit! I’ve got to get ready to go. I refold the letter and stash it, and the picture, back in my drawer with the rest of my whites and get ready for dinner.

* * * *

We haven’t gone out with Danielle and Tyler for what seems like forever. Donovan and I cherish our time alone. I think we’re too selfish to share each other with the world, especially since we are limited with our own time, but we have agreed to meet them for some froyo after the movie. We decided to go out after family dinner tonight and spend some time with the public, instead of acting like sexual recluses in Donovan’s bedroom.

We just saw a movie I’ve been desperately waiting to be released in theaters. Well…I saw the movie. Donovan fell asleep almost at the beginning and didn’t wake up until the end, and he missed the best part—the surprise twist ending. I guess I can’t be that mad at him. He isn’t into these chick flicks and he did work last night, so a little nap means he’ll be able to stay up with me a little bit longer tonight.

We round the corner and walk down the alley toward the parking structure off Third Street Promenade. It’s an alley that runs behind the stores on Third Street, but everyone uses it as a thoroughfare from the businesses to the parking structure. We are strolling with our arms around each other’s waists, my hand tucked in the back pocket of Donovan’s jeans. I love being this close to him with the warmth of his body and the aroma of his perfect scent.

“Did you have a nice nap, sleepyhead?” I quip at Donovan, walking in sync by his side. “You missed the best part of the movie. The twist ending,” I say, feigning disappointment.

“I know. I’m sorry, babe. It’s just so cozy sitting there with you in my arms, snuggling up against me, and the lights off. Once I close my eyes, I’m out.”

“That’s okay,” I playfully excuse. “You can make it up to me later when we get back to your place, now that you have a little more energy from your nap.” I try to grab a handful of his ass through his pocket to emphasize my meaning, but it’s so freaking hard.

“I like the sound of that.” Donovan growls at me while leaning in for a little nibble on my neck below my ear. It makes me giggle and I try to pull away, but he pulls me closer into him with his arm. “I have your T-shirt and boxer briefs washed for you in my top drawer for tonight, but if it’s up to me, you’re not going to need any clothes at all, if ever. I may just box them up for Goodwill.”

My body tenses at the memory of my things boxed up by my mom and left on Danielle’s front lawn. “Oh. That reminds me. I forgot to tell you. I got a letter from my mom.”

“Really? What did it say?” Donovan’s pace slows.

“Nothing much,” I lie, looking up at Donovan. “I mean, what could she possibly have to say to me that will change the course I’m on now, or make my life any better than it is at this moment? The answer is nothing.” I stop moving and Donovan stops with me. I turn to face him, wrapping both my arms around his waist, and look up into his face. “I don’t want her or Richard to worm their way back into my life. But then there is part of me that wants to show her what I’ve accomplished, to have her proud of me for what I’ve been doing, and tell me ‘good job.’”