“What’s your plan now?” I ask, leaning against the island. “I mean, I’ve got to get back to class and work and … life.”
Mom rounds the island and places her hands on my shoulders. “You did an excellent job, Kennedy.”
Here I thought our emotional circumnavigation would take us clear around the interview.
“Thanks. I mean it.” Setting my mug down, I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “Thank you for dropping everything for me this week.”
“I’d do anything for you,” she whispers, tears clearly cutting off her speech.
“You always do,” I reply, talking about far more than the past several years. “My entire life.”
We breathe deeply at the same time and each take one step back, chuckling at our mirrored movements.
“I need to get home,” she finally says. “But I want to make sure you’re okay.”
I look around. “I am. If I feel like I’m not, I can come here,” I say, gesturing to Roland’s space. “And if that doesn’t work, I promise I’ll come home.”
Her eyes wet again at my words. “Promise?”
“Promise,” I assure.
Roland reappears from the hallway by his study. It’s clear there’s a bathroom down that hall somewhere, given he looks like his normal non-made-up self, but I realize I haven’t had much of a tour of this place beyond the main areas.
“Hey …” I start as awkwardly as I’ve ever started a conversation with him before. “I’ve … gotta get to class.”
He gives that sweet half-smile he’s always given me. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him give it to anyone else. “Of course. Well done today, Kennedy. He was a little--“
“Rabid?” I comment on the no longer sexy Greg Mauer.
Roland laughs. “A little. It could have been worse.”
“It could have been better,” Mom interjects. “I knew he’d ask a bunch of God questions, but …”
We all fall silent for a moment.
“Okay, well, I gotta go.” I hug Mom once more. “Call me when you get home.”
“Of course I will. Call me anytime. I mean it.” Backing away from our hug, she busies herself with packing away her laptop and clearing up the coffee mugs and assorted breakfast plates.
I still need food, but it looks like that won’t happen until after my first class.
“I’ll walk you out,” Roland says, clearing his throat.
Mom’s back is still turned while she fusses with the dishes, indicating she’s through with her goodbyes. Smiling up at Roland, I offer a tiny shrug and head toward the door.
“Sorry about the hand thing,” I blurt out as he opens the door. “I didn’t mean to—”
Roland’s smile is soft and his eyes scan the distance for a moment before moving back to my face. “It’s okay,” he reassures. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” I cut him off. “This one wasn’t you. It was me. Let me own it.”
His shoulders shake as he chuckles. “Fine, just this one. Do you want me to walk you to class?” He nods toward the front lawn. “It’s still kind of busy out there,” he says of the reporters and busybodies.
Craning my neck to see more of the view, my chest tightens at the site just beyond the iron gates. “No,” I smile, “my friends are out there waiting for me.”
Giving Roland one last wave, I confidently descend the stairs. Tuning out the murmurs of the lingering nosy-pants, I focus my sights on them. My friends. Matt, Eden, Jonah, Bridgette, Silas, and Maggie.
“You guys …” I start, my smile widening the closer I get to them.
Eden steps forward and pulls me into a tight vanilla-scented hug. “We love you, Kennedy. You were so brave today,” she says, stepping back. “I can’t believe you went on national TV!”
My cheeks are hot with vulnerability. I knew “everyone” would see the interview, but it’s harder with people I know. “Thanks,” I finally mumble.
“We wanted to show you how much we love and support you, Kennedy.” Bridgette steps forward and gives me a hug of her own. “So, we asked Maggie if she’d walk us off campus.”
Over Maggie’s shoulder, I see the guys—each offering their own brand of smiles. In fact, I think it’s the first time I’ve seen Silas really smile at all.
“You did a really good job,” he says, offering an awkward pat on my shoulder as Bridgette moves aside.
Jonah nods in agreement, sliding his hands into his pockets. “He asked some pretty tough questions.”
Immediately my eyes shoot to Matt, and I recall our conversation from yesterday. About political beliefs and friendships.
“Yeah,” I agree, still eyeing Matt, “but I meant every word I said.”
Just love them all.
Matt maintains eye contact with me as he slides past Jonah and extends his arms, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
Pulling me into a hug, he whispers in my ear, “You’re amazing, two, three …” He chuckles, stepping back, and I laugh, too.
While it’s not an official CU guideline that members of the opposite sex can’t engage in prolonged hugs, it’s highly encouraged that full-contact hugs last no more than three seconds. I’ve not seen or heard of anyone walking around with a stopwatch enforcing this suggestion, but I guess the goal is to avoid gratuitous physical contact.