“I’m re-renting your room, so don’t come crawling back,” she says, matter-of-fact. “And I’m keeping the money you paid for it. No refunds.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.”
She waves toward me flippantly as she turns to leave. “Good luck with all this. Don’t run out on them like you abandoned me.”
Ouch. That jab does sting a bit, but I suck it up and grab the duffel bag, closing the door again.
I shower and put on a fresh pair of clothes, the best thing I have with me—black slacks, blue button down, black shoes. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror after I’m dressed. It’s been about a month since the accident, so the bruises have all faded, the scrapes and cuts all gone. Except for the cast, it’s almost like it didn’t happen. Almost.
But I still see it, sometimes, when I close my eyes. The flash of headlights. The blood. I still hear it, even when it’s quiet. The screech of tires. The screams. The pain might be gone, but the memory is embedded inside of me.
I hear the door unlock, hear Madison burst inside with Kennedy following. I greet them, and Madison runs past, saying, “Hey, Daddy,” as she drops her backpack on the way to her bedroom. She's gotten used to me being here.
“Well, well, well,” Kennedy says as she approaches, grasping my chin and scratching at the scruff I still haven’t bothered to shave. Another layer of protection, privacy. Not quite as recognizable with facial hair. “You almost clean up nicely.”
“Thought we could go out,” I tell her. “You know, like a date.”
“A date,” she repeats.
“Date!” Madison screeches, running right back out of her bedroom. “A date!”
I laugh, glancing at her. “Yeah, a date.”
“Do I get to go, too?” she asks with wide eyes. “Please?”
“Of course,” I say. “What kind of date would it be without you?”
“A sucky one,” Madison says. “Right, Mommy?”
“Right.” Kennedy grins down at her. “Guess we ought to go find something to wear, huh?”
Madison runs off again, just like that, yelling, “Come on!”
It takes them a while to get ready, but I don’t mind. Madison changes her clothes about a billion times, settling on a yellow dress. She’s a ball of sunshine, that girl.
And her mother? Jesus Christ.
The moment I lay my eyes on her, it feels like my guts get all twisted up. Little blue dress. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. It reminds me of the one she wore our first night in California. I don’t remember everything from those years, but I’ll never forget that night.
I’ll never forget how much she believed in me, how much she loved me, even though I did a terrible job showing her it was mutual.
“You look… wow,” I say, pulling her to me. “So beautiful.”
I lean down to kiss her but don’t get the chance. The second my lips meet hers, Madison yells, “Wait! Not that yet! Don’t do that ‘till the end!”
“What?” I ask, glancing down at her as she shoves between us, pushing me toward the door.
“Guess you don’t get to kiss me until the end of the date,” Kennedy says.
Madison opens the front door, forcing me through it. “You gotta knock.”
“Uh, okay.”
Before I can say anything else, she slams the door in my face, leaving me standing on the doorstep.
I glance around to see if anyone is lurking before raising my hand to knock, but the door flies back open, Madison still there.
“Get some flowers,” she hisses.
The door slams again.
Even through the thick wood, I can hear Kennedy laughing inside the apartment.
Flowers. I look around. There isn’t a single goddamn flower in the vicinity, so I jog over to a patch of grass and rip up a few stray dandelions.
I knock.
No answer.
I knock again.
“Who is it?” Madison asks from the other side of the door.
“It’s me,” I say. “Jonathan.”
“Jonathan who?”
This kid… she’s trying to kill me. I glance around again before saying, “Cunningham.”
The door flings open, and Madison stands there, grinning, so I hand her most of the dandelions, keeping only one of them.
“They’re my favorite!” she says, taking them.
“Figured you might like them,” I say. “They’re the same color as your dress.”
Kennedy strolls over, and I hand her the last dandelion. She takes it, trying not to laugh.
My phone chimes in my pocket—a message from the car service. “Our ride is here.”
It pulls up—a simple black town car, nothing fancy, the same one that took Madison and me to the convention—same driver and all.
We settle into the car for the drive into Albany. Nobody questions where we’re going until we arrive and the car drops us by the curb. The sun has gone down, giving us a cover of darkness, enough that I can hopefully fade into obscurity for a few hours.
“A movie,” Kennedy says. “In a park.”
“Not just any movie,” I tell her, putting my arm around her and pulling her to me. “Quite possibly the greatest super hero movie ever made.”
“Breezeo!” Madison says excitedly.
Kennedy stops short. “No.”
“Yep,” I say. “The sequel.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“You took us to see your own movie. Seriously?”
“Well, in my defense, I’ve never actually watched it,” I admit. “And I knew Madison would enjoy it, so I figured, you know, who better to watch it with than the two of you?”
Madison’s ecstatic, jumping around, while Kennedy looks at me like I’ve gone insane. “You never watched it?”
“Not the whole thing,” I say. “Hell, I barely remember filming it. They say it’s good, though, despite… well…”
Despite me being so fucked up through the entire process that we’re lucky it even happened.
“I’ve heard it's decent,” Kennedy says.
Decent. From her, I take that as a win.
I didn’t do a very good job at the whole planning thing. I have a blanket but have to buy hot dogs from a vendor, because what’s a picnic without food? We settle into the park away from most of the others, giving us a bit of privacy.
The theme song comes on. Yeah, we’ve got a theme song. Think Spider-Man, just with different words, way too cheery for the scenario. Madison dances around, singing along as the movie starts.
Madison’s enthralled from the very first moment. I’m sitting on the blanket, my legs stretched out, while Kennedy lays down, her head in my lap. I cringe my way through the movie, absently stroking Kennedy’s hair.
I glance down at her after a while, realizing she’s not watching the screen, her attention fixed on me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says. “It’s just strange.”
I caress her flushed cheek. “Being here with me?”
“Yes,” she says. “Just when I was starting to doubt I’d ever see you again.”
“You didn’t think I’d keep popping up every so often?”
“Oh, sure, but that’s not you,” she says. “I knew that guy would keep coming back. I thought I’d be dealing with him for the rest of my life. Drunk, high, out of his mind… but I never thought I’d see you again, real you, yet you’re here. I thought it would always be him.”
I know what she means as she motions toward the screen. I can tell I was strung out. It’s painful.
“I’m here,” I say, “and I’m not going anywhere.”