Page 33 of This Kind of Forever
Kevin
Hi, Hallie. Absolutely! Tell me a time and a place. I’ll make it happen.
We settled on Dockside on Monday at three o’clock. Which is today. Soon.
I got to the restaurant early. I wanted to get a good seat. Now I’ve been sitting so long, my butt has gone numb. Eyes on my hands, I pick at a dried bit of nail polish on my cuticle. I let Abbie paint my nails last night, and now they’re a pretty shade oflavender that matches my hair. She mostly managed to keep the polish on my nails and off my skin, which is a plus.
I check the clock above the bar for the hundredth time. Kevin is going to be here any minute.
Oh, God.He’s going to be here any minute. If I wasn’t so worried about making it back in time, I’d bolt to the bathroom and empty my stomach. Instead, I force the nausea down.
Calm down, Hallie. This is fine. Everything is fine.
Except it doesn’t feel fine. It feels like I’m about to take a test on a subject I haven’t studied before. I see a giant F in my future. Thinking about this moment for as long as I have should have prepared me, but I feel inept. What do I even say? How do I hide the messiness of my current situation?
What do you do for work? I lost my job in the city, so now I work part-time at the local gallery because the owner took pity on me.
Where are you living? In my best friend’s brother’s spare bedroom. It’s not as bad as it sounds, except maybe it’s worse because I think I’m still in love with him.
I don’t have any significant accomplishments to show off. No accolades from a high-powered job, no house, no kids of my own. I’m just…me. And that’s never been good enough.
“Hallie,” Clara says, coming up beside me. She touches my arm. “I need to talk to you for a second.”
“I’m meeting my d—” I stop myself.Dadseems too familiar, and we’re the textbook definition of strangers. “My father will be here, like, right now. Can it wait?”
She shakes her head, then quickly glances over her shoulder. I see Carole standing by the bar and give her a wave.
“Not really,” Clara insists. “It’s kind of important.”
“I—” The sound of the door opening cuts me off. My head whips in the direction of the newcomer.It’s him. I just knowit. “He’s here. I promise I’ll find you after, and you can tell me then.”
She grimaces but nods. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be behind the bar if you need me. Or a drink.”
Clara quickly takes her leave, and I stand on shaky legs. I try not to be obvious about wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs. Then I hold up a hand, gaining Kevin’s attention.
I’ve never seen any pictures of him, but somehow, he looks exactly as I expected he would. A little older, because when I used to picture him, he was still the thirtysomething my mom recklessly jumped into bed with. Now he’s in his early sixties, with laugh lines and greying hair, though he looks somewhat gaunt. His health issues must have been pretty serious, then.
“Hallie?” he asks, coming closer.
I offer him a small smile. “Yes. Hi.”
We sort of just look at each other for a moment, lost for words. I wonder if he’s remembering my mother. I know I look like her. I guess I look a little like him, too, but there is certainly more of Amanda Foster in me than I’d prefer.
He lets out a bit of a chuckle, unsure. Disbelieving. “Wow. I was hoping I would have the chance to do this, and now that it’s here, I’m struggling to find my voice.”
“Do you want to…?” I gesture to the table, and he nods.
Alright, I can do this. One step at a time. It’s not that scary.
Once we’re seated, we both study each other again. I return to picking my cuticle. The clock ticks forward.
Kevin clasps his hands on top of the table. “I’m not really sure how to go about this. Where to start. Maybe you could ask me questions? Anything you want to know.”
A million different inquiries scream at me. Why did he leave? Why wasn’t I good enough? All have varying degrees of pain attached to them. I know we won’t come out of this totallyunscathed, but I shift directions slightly. Not exactly easing us in, but I need to know.
“What made you change your mind?” I ask. “You said in your letter that you went through some health issues.”
He nods. Swallows visibly. “I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years ago. They found it early, and my scans are clear now, no evidence of disease. But going through treatment made me realize, as cliché as it sounds, how precious life truly is. As I got better, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. How I should have handled everything differently.”
