“Pretty much.”
“That sucks.”
I laugh at the casual way he says that. “Remind me again why I called you?”
“Because you’d give your left nut for a drink right now and you need someone to call you on your bullshit.”
Sighing, I run my left hand down my face.
How right he is…
It’s a quiet night in Bennett Landing. Most nights seem to be. The sun goes down and the town gets dark, and I’m left with nothing but my thoughts, which is a damn dangerous place to be. Last time I felt this isolated was back in rehab when I was struggling to get clean. I like to think I’ve made some big strides since then, but some nights test me.
I’ve been wandering around outside for the past hour, strolling toward the waterfront, through Landing Park beside the inn, spilling my secrets through the phone to a jackass that sums them up as 'sucking'.
“We all have bad nights, man. You know that,” Jack says. “Try to remember why you’re there. Drinking sure as hell won’t help you make amends.”
He’s right. Of course he is.
But Jesus Christ, I would give my left nut to drown in a bottle of whiskey right now.
“I’m trying,” I say, walking along, glancing up when I reach the small picnic area. My footsteps stall when I catch sight of movement, someone sitting on top of one of the picnic tables, staring out at the water.
I blink, getting a glimpse of her face in the moonlight as Jack starts rambling, telling me to go find a meeting.
I didn’t expect anybody to be out here at this hour, but certainly not her. “Kennedy?”
She turns my way.
She doesn’t look as surprised as I expect her to be, her eyes guarded as they watch me, but her posture is relaxed, so I guess that’s something.
“You listening to me, Cunning?” Jack asks. “Or am I wasting my breath?”
“I hear you,” I tell him. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good,” he says. “I know it’s not easy, trusting people, but I think it’ll help you.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Look, I gotta go.”
“You sure? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Call me back if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I end the call. Kennedy is watching me, but she’s said nothing yet, so I’m not sure if I should stick around. I’m not sure why she’s out here or what she’s doing, if she’s even alone. I don’t see anybody else, but that doesn’t mean she’s not waiting for someone to show up.
“Let me guess,” she says after a moment. “Your manager?”
"No." I shove the phone in my pocket. “My sponsor.”
“That’s nice… I think.” She pauses before adding, “Not really sure what to say to that.”
“It is what it is.” I take a few steps closer, gauging her reaction. “He’s a good guy. Doesn’t treat me like I’m a star, which I appreciate. He actually thinks my movies are shitty.”
She laughs at that—genuinely laughs.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at you, but well, that’s kind of funny,” she says. “I mean, you have to admit they can be a little hokey at times.”
“Hokey.”
“I’ve only really watched the first Breezeo, but come on, some of the dialogue they added? I think there’s something wrong with my eyes because I can’t take them off of you. What kind of cheesy crap?”
“Yeah, that one was pretty bad.”
“And what was it Maryanne said to him in the hospital, when he first got sick and they were looking for the cure?”
“Our love will make you better.”
“That’s it!” She rolls her eyes. “Because it’s the most powerful thing in the world.”
“I liked that one,” I admit, taking a chance and climbing up on the picnic table, sitting down beside her. There’s some space between us, so we’re not touching, but she’s so close I can feel her warmth and smell a hint of her perfume. “Their love didn’t save him, but it did make him a better person.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “He was laying in a hospital bed, he thought he was dying, and that’s what she says?”
I smile at the cynical tone in her voice, letting her have that one. She has a point. It grows quiet. She’s staring out at the water, arms wrapped around her chest like she’s holding herself together. She’s shivering, so maybe she’s cold, or she might be shaking because I’m here. I don’t know.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, eyes flickering to the ground in front of us. It’s not a 'no', but it isn’t a 'yes', either. I know I should probably leave her alone, not risk pushing her too far, too quickly, but I’ve missed the fuck out of her these past few years. I don’t deserve her time, not in the least, but I’m so desperate for some part of this woman back that I’ll steal every second that I can get.
“What are you doing out here, anyway?” she asks quietly. “You don’t really have a good streak being in this park after dark.”
“With you, no less.”
She smiles at that.
“Just needed some air,” I say. “Couldn’t keep sitting in that house, staring at those walls, with that woman always there. Needed to take a break. It’s late, so I figured I’d be alone out here.”
“Sorry about that…”
“Don’t apologize to me,” I say, shaking my head. “So, you still hang out here?”
“Sometimes,” she says. “Not usually after dark, though. Maddie likes it here, likes playing on the swings, hanging out by the river.”
Maddie.
This makes twice in one day she’s talked to me about her, twice she’s brought up our daughter. I’m trying to not get my hopes up, but after years of slamming face-first into a brick wall, I feel like I might finally be headed in the right direction.
“So she likes the water? I seem to remember you hated it.”
“I never hated it,” she says. “I’m just not a fan of bugs.”
“And ducks.”
“And ducks,” she agrees with a shudder. “Which is funny, because Maddie loves them. She loves coming down here and feeding the ducks every chance she gets. She always worries they’re not eating enough. She’s, uh…”
“She sounds perfect.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, “she is.”
I don’t know what to say, afraid to push her so I just sit here, my eyes scanning her in the darkness. She’s wearing a little black dress, a pair of red heels kicked off on the ground by the picnic table.
“You look nice,” I tell her.
She glances down at herself, making a face. “I had a date.”
“A date.”
That word is a thump to the chest.
I’m not a fool. I know she probably moved on, and I’d be the worst hypocrite to be upset by that after some of the shit I did these past few years in an attempt to numb my feelings for her. She has an entire life outside of me, without me, a world she built for herself where I don’t even exist, and I don’t blame her for it. Not a bit. It’s not like I could expect her to sit around and wait. I never asked her to. Never gave her a reason. I haven’t just been a shitty father; I was also a terrible boyfriend.
But still, there’s a flare of jealousy burning in my gut, my shame dousing it like gasoline on a fire.
“You do a lot of that now?” I ask. “Dating?”