Page 64 of The Last Kind of Kiss
Her mother blinks the tears into a cascade, but she doesn’t wipe them away. “You look so beautiful, Lila Bean.”
Lila Bean? That’s adorable. And definitely something that’ll put me in the hospital if I ever utter those words outside of this building.
Lila fans her face to keep the tears at bay, a choked-up sniffle evolving into embarrassed laughter. “Mom, don’t embarrass me in front of?—”
Her mother immediately turns to me, rams into me, and constricts me like a python with surprisingly strong arms. “Oh, hello! Apologies, I’m a hugger!”
“Hi,” I wheeze, the bouquet of flowers getting squashed between us.
“Mom, this is Bristol. He’s my…boyfriend.” There was a deliberate pause in her sentence, and a part of me can’t help but wither a bit, buffeted by the quick—and seemingly easy—delivery of her lie. I guess telling her mother the truth could compromise the “relationship.” Only our mutual friends know what’s really going on behind the scenes.
When she finally lets me go, I try not to gulp for air. “It’s very lovely to meet you, Ms. Perki?—”
“Please, call me Janice! We’re practically family at this point.”
I hold the flowers out to her—which look like they’ve just been run over by a car—but she accepts their broken stems and flattened petals anyways, setting them for safekeeping on the front desk. “Thank you. You know, you two are quite the talk online. Lila Bean, everyone from Moreno Valley is so proud of you. Even got a message from your third-grade teacher, Mrs. Finch! She was so excited for you. Said she knew you were gonna be a big star one day.”
As I watch a mother reunite with her daughter, I realize that I don’t know anything about Lila’s childhood. We’ve never talked about it. Well…she’snever brought it up before. The only thing I know is that her piece of shit father abandoned his parental duties and fell off the face of the planet. She also mentioned to me that her mother raised her all on her own in a poor household, but that’s where the extent of my knowledge ends.
We’re closer than we’ve ever been, yet we’re still so far apart.
“Mom, you’re going to make me smear my fifty-dollar mascara.” Lila chuckles through a sob, her eyes blinking comically fast to dry the proliferation of tears. Her chest stutters, too congested to dissipate the bout of hiccups that slip out of her in cute little squeaks, and she excuses herself to the restroom to tidy up, unintentionally leaving me alone with her mother.
It was at this moment that he knew…he fucked up.
Lying to the public? Easy. Lying to the mother of the woman who I want to be with for the rest of my life? Not so easy.
So, while the ambience of dog barks fills the awkward silence, I try to keep my stomach from using my mouth as an escape route, and I wipe my now-slick palms on the back of my pants. Oh, God. I’m a terrible person. Look at me, lying to this scarily strong, four-foot-eleven woman who could fold me inhalf like a pancake if she ever finds out how badly I’ve treated her daughter. I’ll have to pole vault over any truth-bearing questions until Lila gets back.
On the ice, my nerves are under control; most of the time, the adrenaline cancels them out completely. But here, my nerves are like a bunch of should-be-leashed toddlers running around and wreaking havoc in the cereal aisle of a Walmart.
Considering I haven’t moved—or breathed—for a full minute, Janice catches on pretty quickly, and she cocks her head toward a pen tucked in the far back corner of the room. “Walk with me, Bristol.”
It’s half an offer and half a demand, but it’s said in this overly sweet tone that I’m not sure if I should be scared of. I acquiesce and walk with her, crossing the bulk of the open space before arriving at a pen that’s much farther from the others. It’s quieter over here, far calmer, and at first glance, I don’t think a dog is actually inside the enclosure until I get a closer look. This crusty, small, white dog is sleeping in a ball in the corner, minding its own business while the rest of its cohabitants bark and yip and paw at the bars of their cages.
“This is Alfie. He’s been here the longest—three years. He’s on the older side. He has to be around six, but we’re not really sure the exact date of his birthday. He was found on the side of the road up here, and you know how driving can get in the mountains. It was a miracle he survived at all without getting hit. When he was brought to us, there was no microchip, no collar, no nothing. I don’t know where he came from, but he must’ve been abandoned,” she explains.
“A lot of people who come looking to adopt want puppies, the more sociable dogs, the ones that look ‘cuter.’ Alfie’s a bit rough around the edges, but he has a good heart. He’s very wary of newcomers until he meets the right one, and then he’s like a totally different dog. He has his moments when thingsget too overwhelming, but we all have moments like that, don’t we?”
This goddamn Q-tip of a dog is about to make me burst into tears. How could someone abandon an animal so easily? How could someone abandon an animal theyagreedto take care of for the rest of its life? And how could anyone make any judgments about this dog based on the slightly dirty, scruffy fluff hanging from his chin like an old man’s beard? He’s adorable. A little mangy looking, but I would be too if I was abandoned by the person who promised to love me.
Janice rubs me comfortingly on the arm, a smile still fastened to her lips. And not anI-have-to-be-nice-to-my-daughter’s-boyfriend-because-he’s-her-boyfriendsmile. An authentic one—one that she would give anybody to make them feel safe, understood, welcomed.
“Alfie reminds me a lot of Lila. They’re both snappy but full of love. They’re careful with their hearts, but they’re just waiting for the right people to let them be vulnerable. Alfie’s never been picked before. Lila’s been picked by many people, but never for the right reasons. And both of my babies were abandoned by the people they thought loved them the most. They’re both an acquired taste, but that doesn’t diminish their worth.”
Fuck. Hearing that…from Lila’s own mother…is eye-opening. I know that Lila blames herself for her father’s absence. And while I’ve gotten to know her, it’s clear to me that she seeks external validation to make up for the validation she was never promised. That has to be why she models, right? Why she’s overcritical of how she looks in front of people. All she wants is to be heard, loved, wanted for who she really is deep down. She wants to be good enough for someone to stay.
And I’m the fucking idiot who should’ve told her she was from the very beginning.
Lila’s stubborn, opinionated, determined. Life hasn’t made iteasy for her to trust people.Ihaven’t made it easy for her to trust people. But she’s also caring, considerate, sensitive. I forced that side of her to go into hiding, and little by little, she’s shown me those parts again—she’s shown them to me when I didn’t deserve to see them in the first place. I know Lila’s still contractually with me because of the campaign, but a little part of me hopes that she’ll stay with me because I’m worth saving. She hasn’t given up on me, while I’ve inadvertently given up on her twice.
I told her I’d wait for her, but I’d wait forever if she asked me to.
I can’t believe I’m thinking this in the middle of an animal rescue, but I want to have a real relationship with Lila. The campaign’s practically over anyways. I don’t want something fake. I want to make things official and tell the whole world she’s mine. I want to brag about her to everyone I meet. I want to come home to her and fall asleep next to her. I want to spend every second of every day with her. I want her to knock me on my ass and poke fun at me and be exactly who she is when she’s not trying to be somebody else. She doesn’t have to change herself—or dull herself—to be accepted by me.
She’s my best friend. She makes me want to be a better person. She always puts everyone else before herself, but she’ll never have to again, because I’m finally choosing her for the right reason. I want to spend the rest of my life listening to her snort-laughs. I want to spend the rest of my life falling over and over again into those blue eyes of hers.
I’ve been so determined to spend the rest of my life in the storm, punishing myself for events out of my control, that I hadn’t realized how close peace actually was. And now that the rain has stopped, I’m never going to let it start again.
