Reminders of Him

“You were too harsh, Ledger. Everyone deserves the benefit of the
doubt, Ledger. You won’t be able to live with yourself if she takes her own
life, Ledger.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I don’t know Kenna’s personality at all. The reaction she had earlier
could just be dramatics for all I know. But she could also be in a really dark
place, and I can’t sleep with that on my conscience.
I feel unsettled and frustrated as I get in my truck and head back to her
place.

---

Maybe I should feel a sense of relief that I now think Roman was wrong,
but I just feel pissed.
Kenna isn’t holed up inside her apartment. She’s outside, looking like
she doesn’t have a care in this world. She’s playing with fucking fireworks.
Sparklers. Her and some girl, twirling around in the grass like she’s a kid
and not a grown-ass adult who, just hours earlier, acted like her world was
coming to an end.
She didn’t see me pull up because her back was to the parking lot, and
she hasn’t noticed I’ve been sitting here for several minutes.
She lights another sparkler for the girl, who then proceeds to make a
mad dash with her sparkler and leave trails of light with her as she
disappears around the corner.
Once Kenna is alone, she presses her palms to her eyes and tilts her
face up to the sky. She stands like that for a few seconds. Then she wipes
her eyes with her T-shirt.
The girl reappears and Kenna smiles, then the girl disappears, and
Kenna lets her face fall back into a frown.
She’s just turning it on and off and on and off, and I don’t like that I
like that she’s pretending not to be sad every time that girl comes running
back to her. Maybe Roman was right.
The girl returns once more and hands her another sparkler. As she’s
lighting it, Kenna looks up and spots my truck. Her whole body seems to
shrivel, but she forces a smile toward the girl and makes a motion for the
girl to run around the building. As soon as the girl is gone again, Kenna
begins to head in my direction.
It’s obvious I’ve been sitting here watching her. I don’t even try to
hide that. I unlock my door right before she reaches my truck and climbs
inside.
She slams the door. “Are you here with good news?”
I shift in my seat. “No.”
She opens the door and starts to get out.
“Wait, Kenna.”
She pauses, and then closes the door and remains in my truck. It’s so
quiet. She smells like gunpowder and matches, and there’s a strange current
inside this truck that’s so palpable I expect the whole damn truck to
explode. But it doesn’t. Nothing happens. No one speaks.

---

I finally clear my throat. “Are you gonna be okay?” My concern is
buried beneath a stone-cold exterior, so I know my question seems forced,
as if I don’t care what the response might be.
Kenna tries to get out of the truck again, but I grab her wrist. Her eyes
meet mine.
“Are you gonna be okay?” I repeat.
She stares hard at me with her swollen, red eyes. “Are you . . .” She
shakes her head, seemingly confused. “Are you here because you’re afraid I
might kill myself?”
I don’t like how she seems to want to laugh at my concern. “Am I
worried you aren’t in a good headspace?” I ask, reframing her question.
“Yeah. I am. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Her head tilts slightly to the right as she turns her whole body so that
she’s facing me in her seat. Her shoulder-length strands of straight hair lean
with her. “That’s not it,” she says. “You’re worried if I end my life, you’ll
be left feeling guilty that you’ve been so unbearably cruel to me. That’s why
you came back. You don’t care if I actually kill myself—you just don’t
want to be the impetus for my decision.” She shakes her head with a
shallow laugh. “You did it. You checked on me. Your conscience is clear
now, goodbye.”
Kenna goes to open her door, and the girl she was lighting sparklers
for suddenly appears at her passenger window. Her nose is pressed against
the glass.
“Roll down this window,” Kenna says to me.
I turn my key so that I can roll down her window. The girl leans in,
smiling at us. “Are you Kenna’s dad?”
Her question is so out of left field, I can’t help but laugh. Kenna
laughs too.
Diem has Scotty’s laugh and smile. Kenna’s laugh is her own. One I
haven’t heard before this second. One I want to hear again.
“He’s definitely not my dad,” Kenna says. She cuts her eyes to mine.
“He’s the guy I told you about earlier. The one keeping me from my little
girl.” Kenna opens her door and hops out.
She slams my truck door, and then the teenage girl leans in the
passenger window and says, “Jerk.”

---

Kenna grabs the girl’s hand and pulls her away from the truck. “Come
on, Lady Diana. He’s not on our side.” Kenna walks away with the girl and
she doesn’t look back, no matter how much I want her to and don’t want her
to, and fuck, my brain is a pretzel.
I’m not sure I could be on her side even if I wanted to be. This whole
situation contains so many nooks and crannies and corners I get the feeling