Just Her Type (30 page)

“And the car accident?” Kendra asked.

“There was no car accident, baby. Both died in
prison. Cancer ate her alive. A fellow inmate got to him. As unforgiving and
un-Christian-like as this sounds, justice was served on both counts as far as
I’m concerned. Yes, indeed.” Aunt Jackie nodded. “Van and I lived next door to
each other for years. Van looked up to me like a big sister.”

“Yes, I know that part.”

“One day she shared her horrific secrets.
 
There was a stream of men. I used to see
them at that house. I thought they were there for her father’s unlicensed side
business. He cut hair at home part time. Why hadn’t I put it all together
sooner? And there were horrendous pictures. Some of these pictures and videos
are still out there for sale, on the Internet, I hear, for sickos who go
searching for that sort of thing with underage kids. Anyway, I told my parents
even after she begged me not to. I couldn’t ignore what was going on over there.
No way. My parents contacted child welfare authorities. Van moved in with us,
because there was no one in that family who could take her in, and we all loved
her. Mom and Dad wanted to help. Van received counseling. Things were looking
good for a while, real good. Her grades improved. She joined a dance group and
the yearbook staff at her school. And then she met
him
, the much older man. They started sneaking around. I didn’t
know about it until it was far too late. Someone should have caught him and buried
his ass under the jail,” Aunt Jackie muttered. “She told me he was in his
thirties. I think he was married. We don’t know for sure. He never told her his
real name or where he lived. Used to take her to sleazy out-of-the-way motels.
 
He took advantage of her body and
naiveté—”

“My father?”

“Yes. Then he upped and disappeared, leaving her
devastated again.”

“Pregnant at fifteen by a married older man, baby
at sixteen. Sounds like a drippy Lifetime movie.”

 
“My
parents and I helped with you. We all loved having a cute baby around,
especially Mom. She was thrilled.”

“Ah, Nana Joan.”

 
“But
we feared Van would never bounce back after that jerk dumped her and vanished.
When she turned nineteen she took you and left our home, but she struggled
mightily to get her financial and emotional footing. This is not to make
excuses for her, but I want you to understand the root of her perplexing
behavior so you can stop blaming yourself and stop assuming you’re destined to
make the same mistakes.”

“But—”

“After a while, Vanessa believed she was simply
incapable of being the parent you deserved, sweetie. She wanted you to have a
good life so she did what she thought was best when she brought you to live
with Alex and me. We’d tried for years to get pregnant, but it never happened.
 
I was much older than Van, more settled
with a nice home, a good man, and a desperate yearning to be a mother. We
believed the arrangement was perfect for everyone.”

“You were, you are,” Kendra said, “the best parent
any child could ever wish for.”

“Not perfect. I could’ve done some things
differently.”

“No, you are the best—”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t as forthcoming with the whole
story as I should’ve been. I’m a liar. I lied to you and myself all these
years. When you were a child, I rationalized, you were far too young to hear
and process such alarming things that had happened to your mother. That made
sense. When you were a teen, I told myself the same thing. You still wouldn’t
understand. Why fill your head with such ugliness? And when you became an
adult, I told myself you weren’t that interested because you never asked about
Vanessa much. But the truth is, when Vanessa reached out most recently to try
to forge a relationship with you, I felt, well, threatened. I’ve cherished our
closeness all these years. I thought things between us would change, so I held
on tighter.” She clenched her fists. “I’d lost Alex. Mom and Dad relocated to
that Florida retirement community. I wasn’t about to lose you, too. I was
selfish, even after knowing all that Van had gone through—”

“Selfish? Oh, Auntie. You? Never.”

“Yes, I was.
 
I am so ashamed of some of my thoughts. I’d always believed I was one
type of woman, so giving, godly, and selfless. Yeah, right. I found out I was
altogether another. Sometimes I’d get the angriest, I mean downright furious,
at Alex because he wasn’t around when something here or at the shop needed
repairs and maintenance, and I had to handle it myself.” She lifted one hand
and slapped it against her leg. “As if the man up and had a massive heart
attack one day just to get out of re-grouting and re-caulking the shower.”

“But you were,
are
grieving. People don’t always think straight when they’re going through it. I
understand everything you said. I do.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I know I can
do things around here on my own.”

“Of course you can.”

“And all these things of his that I’ve been
clinging to like a lifeline… He is not a power drill, an old recliner, a
closetful of coats, suits, and shoes.
 
He’s here,” Aunt Jackie touched her head and heart, “and here. I have
nothing to fear if you get to know Van or even get closer to her. I’m not only
okay with it, but I’m also rooting for you two. Is that what you want, honey?”

“Truth?” Kendra asked. “I don’t know what the heck
I want where Vanessa is concerned. When she first reached out to me again, I
told her I was open, but we needed to take things slow. ‘Baby steps,’ I said to
her.
 
Sometimes I’m elated, over the
moon, when I receive a call, a text, an email, anything at all from her. I feel
I exist to her. I mean something. Finally. She’s thinking of
me
and not some ‘honey bear’ for a
change.
Me
. Kendra. But, at other
times she will reach out and I’m seething with rage that I try so hard not to
acknowledge.
Oh, hell, no!
 
You don’t get to breeze back in my life,
years and years later, like you never abandoned me. You don’t get to be my best
friend as if nothing ever happened. You must pay!
That side wants to punish
her good. That eight-year-old ignores her calls, texts, and emails. That
eight-year-old wants to give her a taste of rejection. But when weeks pass, and
I don’t hear from her, I start to panic. I think I’ll never hear from her
again. I’ll read her chatty blog or social media posts, flaunting her latest
‘Laura Mercier cosmetics shopping spree’ or ‘Louboutin haul from Nordies and
Neiman-Marcus, y’all.’ And then there are all the gushing posts about how
incredibly lucky she is to have such a sweet “honey bear” who thinks she set
the moon and stars and spoils her endlessly. And oh, how grateful she is for
her legion of devoted blog followers. That eight-year-old in me gets enraged
all over again.” Kendra squeezed Aunt Jackie’s hand. “How do you punish someone
who is indifferent? Would she love me more if I had a penis? As far as our
fledgling relationship goes, I still think she can take it or leave it. And I
curse her for that. Man, it feels good to finally get this out.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Aunt Jackie pulled Kendra
deeper inside her embrace and stroked her hair.

“But I think I should know better. I
should
be stronger.
Bigger
, you know.
‘Woman up!
Stop whining, why doncha?’
I tell myself all the time. Ugh! It’s so
frustrating when you know what the right things to do and feel are, but you
can’t bring yourself to do and feel those things consistently. Why am I
behaving like a big brat? A walking, talking
daughter-damaged-by-indifferent-biological-mother trope, when I had such a
wonderful mother in you? I’m not chasing the man who impregnated Vanessa. Uncle
Alex was all the father I needed. I never tried to chase Vanessa’s parents.
Grandpa and Grandma Miller and Nana Joan and Papi Jim were the only
grandparents I needed.
 
The
difference defies rational explanation.”

“You never knew your biological father or
grandparents. Vanessa was in your life, and then suddenly she wasn’t there for
you. It’s okay to have and own those feelings that disturb you, but don’t
surrender to them. You have more power determining the outcome than you think.”

“Yup,” Kendra said facetiously. “Just will it all
away and think only happy-pappy thoughts as I click my heels together three
times and wish upon a star.”

“A little less sarcasm can’t hurt, either. No more
hiding behind a shield of quips and snappy come-backs. You can do this, Kendra.
You have an opportunity here, an opportunity I wish I still had. My Alex is
gone. How I wish I could take back all the petty nagging I’d done the day
before he died. I nagged, I nagged, and then I nagged some more. Nagging about
that cluttered back room and his habit of collecting garbage from flea markets
and garage sales. That’s what I wish I could take back when I think of my last
forty-eight hours with him. I, mean, I gave him hell about a box of old S&H
green stamps.”

“But Uncle Alex never took offense to that. He
used to slyly grin at me and hum the theme song from
Sanford &
Son
while
you fussed about his junk.”

“My point is, there’s still time for you. Why
wallow in regrets?
 
I do believe you
can make it work with Van and your guy, if that’s what you want. You’re such a
smart woman. If you set your mind—”

“Dominic is gone and that’s great for him. He can
do much better.”

“Weren’t you falling for him?”

“I think so.” Kendra pulled away and a small,
wistful smile tilted her lips. “He was great, not perfect, but pretty close for
me. He was so fervent, so determined about us, though. I loved it, but then, I
sort, um, of didn’t. I know this sounds mixed up, because I’m mixed up.
 
He wanted everything too fast.”

“He swept you off your feet?”

“He tried, oh boy, did he try. And it scared the
heck out of me.”

“So you tell him to slow down.”

“Auntie, he even wore that hideous sweater I made
for him. And he didn’t so much as flinch when the cheapo ballpoint pen I had in
my pocket leaked black ink all over his SUV’s
 
butter-colored leather seats.”

“He wore that sweater? In public? The version you
showed me? Wow. Sounds like a keeper to me.”

Kendra nodded with a melancholy smile. “I know,
brave guy. And I clicked with him, even more so than I had with the others.
Sometimes we’d debate and challenge one another. Sometimes we were a couple of
goofballs together. I mean bona fide nerds, Auntie, guffawing like Beavis and
Butt-head at his incredibly bad jokes, singing cheesy old tunes together,
geeking out over an old episode of
The
Alternate Dimension Theater
.”

Aunt Jackie nodded. “Sounds like your type all
right.”

 
“I
always
enjoyed spending time with him.
And I think he actually loved
me
,”
she said as if still mystified. “All of me, the good parts, the ball-buster
parts. I felt it.”
 
She clutched
herself. “I did. He said he wanted me to be his wife.”

“Oh, my! He proposed? Already?”

“See what I mean about moving too quickly? But I
wouldn’t say it was an official proposal. He was sharing his intentions.
 
I was breaking up with him. To persuade
me to reconsider he wanted to let me know how serious he was about me, about
us.”

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“No. I think he knew I liked him a lot, but when
the subject turned to something serious, deeper, I gave him little to work
with. And then I picked a huge fight over something I shouldn’t have.
 
And it didn’t help that I was already
pissed
and
pickled when it happened.
We could’ve had a grownup discussion about this one complicated
business-related situation. But no, as is my MO, I went into harpy mode instead
and let it escalate so I could shut it down, shut
him
down.
It’ll never work,
I
said.”

 
“It’s
probably not too late to run right back. Tell him what’s in your heart,
sweetie. Doubts, fears, and how they cloud your thinking sometimes. Tell him
you two
must
take it slow. I mean, if
he knows about the previous fiancés, one would think he’d want to. So
let it all out.
 
If he’s as
wonderful as you say, he’ll understand.”

Kendra shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can. Admit you were wrong about some things
and ask for another chance. If it’s love—”

“But that’s the thing, I don’t know if I love
him
for sure. Or if I even
want
to love him. If I’m not sure of
either, I can’t go back now, not with the same baggage in tow so we can do the
rinse and repeat. He doesn’t deserve that. I broke it off with the man over the
phone because I’m a coward. I knew I couldn’t look him in the eye. If I saw his
face or if he tried to touch me, I’d turn into a puddle of goo. And I did all
this the day before his birthday. How screwed up is that?”

“Intentionally?”

“Well, not exactly.” Kendra fiddled with the
ribbed edge of her turtleneck. “I had purchased a small gift for him earlier,
but I had so many things whirling around inside my feverish brain those last
few days we were together,” she winced, “it kind of slipped my mind. I
remembered when one of my phone apps reminded me
after
I’d had that last conversation with him. I couldn’t call him
back and say, ‘Hey, sorry, dude. Disregard the big boot I gave you until
twenty-four hours
after
your
birthday. Oh, and those nice cashmere socks I purchased for you, I’ll just pop
them in the mail.’”