Page 15 of Grave Kisses
“Alan said once that when you finally met Bellamy and Marcus, that you’d connect well,” she says.
“Those weren't his exact words, but yes,” Martin says.
“I’m afraid to ask,” I laugh.
“He said that when you finally met them, God himself wouldn’t be able to keep Bellamy and Marcus off you,” Martin says.
“Oh my God!” I laugh nervously. “I hate that it sounds like something he’d say.”
“Joking aside, he knew that when you eventually took over CyberSafe, you’d do well,” Marcus continues. “Even with limited experience with the business side of things, he knew you’d be in good hands.”
“I miss him,” I say quietly. “I feel like if I called him, he’d answer. But he won’t.”
“Yeah,” Martin sighs. “A few days ago, I called his phone. It was second nature to call him when I was flying back. I got his voicemail right away, and it hurt all over again.”
“I would call him before I went to sleep at night,” I say as tears roll down my cheek. “I’d tell him about my day, even though it was always the same. I stayed home and worked. He would tell me about his day, and I’d secretly wish he would make me leave the house.”
“Did you not go out?” Marcus asks.
“I rarely went anywhere other than his house and occasionally the office when no one else was there,” I say. “I was terrified that Archer would somehow corner me. I knew it wasn’t logical. I left when I had to, but I preferred being home. When he died… I just know I can’t live my life inside anymore. I missed out on so many things with him because I was too afraid to leave the house.”
“He was a good man,” Bellamy says, gently squeezing my shoulder.
“I’m sorry I made him keep my secret,” I say. “I inconvenienced…”
“No,” Martin says. “His son brutalized you, Kendra.”
“What did Archer mean when he said Alan wanted a daughter again?” Marcus asks, and Martin physically flinches.
“What?” I ask.
“So… shit,” Martin sighs and looks at Noel.
“His daughter was brutally raped and murdered six months before he met you,” Noel says. “He never told you because he didn’t want you to feel like he was using you to replace her.”
“Did Archer…” I start to ask.
“No one could prove it… But yeah. He was very convinced that it was Archer,” Martin says. “When he found you, it was like finding his daughter in those woods again. He wanted to protect you the way he felt like he should’ve protected Kimberly.”
“Shit. He’s told me about her,” I sigh. “I always assumed that it was a past foster child or something. He said that it broke him whenever she left. I didn’t know she died.”
“Her death was hard. He lost his wife, Brenda, a year prior in a car accident, and it was so much tragedy in a short time,” Noel says.
“Enough sadness for now,” Martin says, abruptly changing the subject. “Let’s eat.”
Martin waves us off as we get to the driveway. We ate and talked about happier times until we had nothing left to say. I stop and stare at my car, not ready to make the drive. The last time I drove there, my world fell apart.
“Come on,” Marcus says, gently pulling me toward his truck. I let him put me in the back seat, and I zone out as he drives. The closer we get, the more it hurts. By the time we are in his driveway, I can’t breathe. Marcus gets me out and hugs me as Bellamy rubs my back. I don’t know why I’m letting him comfort me after everything he said and did, but I get to be selfish. Alan taught me that. He taught me that it’s okay to be selfish for the sake of healing. He always reminded me that healing is a process, and it takes however long it takes.
Eventually, I do calm down enough to function. I pull away and wipe my face before turning to the house. My first experience of this place was horrific. Memories of my assault are ingrained in this household, and I will never forget what Archer did to me. Beyond the pain are happy memories with Alan. When I was accepted into MIT, I had never seen him happier. He hugged me tight on the front porch and told me he was proud of me. The day I moved out, we stood in the same spot and cried together. Not because I was moving out, but because I felt safe enough. He spent years teaching me how to trust the world again. I was still always afraid, but never so much that I couldn’t function.
We get to the front door, and I hand the keys off to Bellamy. I can’t open that door because the last time Alan was the first thing I saw. I foolishly called out for him, hoping he would wake up. He hadn’t answered my messages in a few hours, and I knew something was wrong. When he didn’t answer me, I was praying that his eyes would open despite the fact that I could see in his complexion that he had been gone for hours. His phone was sitting on the coffee table like he had just set it down to take a quick nap. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to nap after work, but he always answered when I called.
When Bellamy opens the door, I see that both the couch and the coffee table are gone. It doesn’t look like I have abandoned it for a week. You can’t even tell that the happiness has been stripped away. I walk inside, and everything is exactly the way it was left. I spend a while walking from room to room just taking it all in. I end up in the kitchen, where a few dirty dishes are in the sink. He was always so bad about that. I made it a habit to wash his dishes every time I was here. Not because I had to, but because it made his life easier. It was the least I could do and minuscule compared to what he did for me.
I mindlessly go to the sink and start washing just like I always did. Except he’s not here to dry the plates and put them away. He’s not here to tease me because I’m too short to reach the top shelf of the cabinets. When all of them are washed and in the other sink like they’re just waiting for him to rinse them off, anger pours out of me. Without even thinking, I grab one of the plates and throw it down onto the tile to watch it shatter. I do this over and over again until there’s nothing left but sadness. Marcus scoops me into his arms, and I melt. This isn’t a reaction to the comfort he is providing me, but from the sheer exhaustionfinally breaking me. It’s the constant weight of grief. I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of pretending that I’m managing it all. He should be alive, and it’s not fair that he’s gone.
When I start to come out of my dissociative state, I find that I’m still with Marcus, but we are in the guest room. He has us in the recliner that is positioned in the corner of the room, and he’s rocking us as he holds me against his chest. The room is dim and quiet. I must’ve been out for a while because he is on his phone, and everything feels calm.
