Just Her Type (31 page)

“I think you’re too hard on your—”

 
“I’m
jealous of her flipping blog followers,” Kendra blurted, suddenly circling back
to Vanessa. “And I concealed my IP addresses on my home and agency computers so
I could surf to
Just Vanessa
anonymously because I know she checks traffic stats and locations and blogs
about where her followers are from.”

“What? You’re losing me here. IP address?”
 
Techno-green Aunt Jackie had let Uncle
Alex handle everything related to their residential and business computers, as
well as her Shabby Sheep website. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d stopped
calling Wi-Fi “Wee-Fee.”

“I know it’s paranoia.” Kendra went on, “But I
didn’t want her to get curious and go investigating
the visitor
who is on her site several times a day. Though Brooklyn
or Hoboken aren’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, I thought the combination
of hits from the same two places with the same two IP addresses repeating over
and over again might give me away. I have all these rules for dealing with her,
which include never, ever initiating contact. I go to her social media
accounts, and I’m scrolling them with a feather-light touch for fear of applying
too much pressure to the screen to accidentally ‘like’ or twinkle-dinkle
something.”

“Twinkle-dinkle?”

 
“It’s
a way of letting people know you enjoy their Post-a-Pic images. See,
eight-year-old Kendra can’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she has my
attention. And here’s another thing, I always feel worse after reading her site
and social media accounts. But I cannot seem to bring myself to stop. It’s, uh,
like this compulsion. I’m scouring
Just
Vanessa
, Post-a-Pic and such, looking for clues. Bits and pieces of what
exactly? The heck if I even know. Don’t tell me that’s normal behavior.”

Aunt Jackie’s lips parted, but she remained
silent.

 
“Regarding what you revealed about
Vanessa…I feel numb.” Kendra slowly shook her head. “Who
is
this woman who gave birth to me? And do you just sprinkle in a
generous dose of platitudes and alakazam.” Kendra snapped her fingers. “I’m
like the after shot of those close-up-ready sweet potato fries?”

“Huh? After shot? Sweet potato fries?”

“Am I suddenly ready for a healthy, grownup
relationship with a man?”

“Honey, you’re—”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Kendra said
more for herself than her aunt.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to minimize —”

“Wait. About what I said a few moments ago. The
alakazam and all. I’m sorry. I’m listening to myself and thinking,
Wow
,
I
sound so cold, unfeeling, unhinged
.
”
Weren’t
crazy people the last to realize they were crazy? Kendra hoped this
acknowledgment would ease Aunt Jackie’s concerns. “I don’t mean to sound as if
I’m minimizing what you just told me about Vanessa. The truth is, I guess I’d
grown comfortable, extremely comfortable, with my own narrative. Now, I’m
floundering. It’s not so black and white after all.”
 
She pressed her fingers to her temples.
“But I know I’m not ready to approach Dominic,” she said as she reached for a
Kleenex on the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes, filling with tears. “For
once, I need to be real with myself.
 
But I do think I’ve taken a huge step, admitting
I
have a problem.
 
My
goodness! Now that sounds as if I’m in a twelve-step program.
 
Or at the least moving to the next stage
of the hero’s journey.”

“You’re losing me again. The hero’s what now?”

“Forget it. I’m rambling,” Kendra said. “I refuse
to bore you to death with a detailed breakdown of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth.”

“This Joseph gave you mono?” she asked, mouth
agape.

“No! No!” Kendra chuckled as her emotions
ricocheted from one extreme to the other at breakneck speed.

“But you said—”

“Never mind, Auntie.” Kendra hooted. “I suppose I
needed to vent and vomit, then follow up with a good laugh. Thank you for
that.”

Aunt Jackie unclenched a bit so Kendra had done
her job.

“You’ve been so kind, indulging me, my rants, and
incessant shop talk over the years,” Kendra said.

“Think about what we’ve discussed here.”

“I will. I promise.”

Kendra sniffled as the realization settled in that
her anger no longer had a place. “What you said about Vanessa. My gosh, I can’t
wrap my brain around it.” She shuddered. “I can’t even put it into words. But I
do care. And it’s heartbreaking, Auntie. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Vanessa,” Kendra whispered as if her mother could hear her. “I am
so
sorry that happened to you.”

“I should’ve said something sooner. It was obvious
she didn’t or couldn’t. It could’ve made a difference.”

Kendra exhaled deeply, unsure how to respond as
she tore little pieces off the wadded tissue.

“You okay?”

Kendra blew her nose with a fresh tissue,
releasing a rude honking sound that made them both laugh. “Yeah, I’m going to
be. Promise. I love you. Thank you for your patience. I don’t hold you
responsible for anything. I understand the choice you made.”

“I love you too. Always. And we’ve helped each
other over the years. You’ve been such a blessing to me, more than you’ll ever
know,” she said, her eyes gentle with unconditional adoration as she placed a
warm hand on Kendra’s cheek.

“You’re making me blubber again. I’m not used to
so much mushiness in one sitting.” They shared another watery laugh and an
extended, rocking hug before Kendra came to her feet. “I’m going to go wash my
face. I’m sure I’m all raccoon-eyed right about now. I’ll be right back.”

Inside the bathroom Kendra sat on the toilet,
leaned forward, and placed her face in her hands to weep some more without
worrying her aunt.

Afterward, she washed up, looked in the mirror to
put on her best happy face. She emerged, rubbing her hands together. “Now,
let’s decorate! Time to get those gorgeous new snowflakes on that tree! Chop,
chop!”

Aunt Jackie lifted the platter. “Not before you
have at least one of these cookies.”

Kendra shoved a gingerbread man inside her mouth,
quickly decapitating him. “There. Better?”

“Better.” Aunt Jackie smiled.

Chapter 38

In the days that
immediately followed, Kendra did more work from home, leaving Brittany to
handle the office. She sat on her sofa and looked through the stack of agency
mail a courier had delivered earlier that morning

Kendra continued to take care of her current
clients, resumed her fund-raising volunteer work with Sedgemont Friends, and
completed all Christmas shopping online.
 
She even dragged herself to the Jingle Bell Brunch, an annual
gift-swapping gathering with her closest friends, making good on her promise
not to let a man or man-related problems come between them. But instead of
lifting her spirits, that brunch had brought her down.
 
Pretending to ‘eat, drink, and be merry’
had been tough, but answering questions about yet another failed relationship
made it nearly unbearable. She’d shared which was best described as a CliffsNotes
version of the latest breakup. Fortunately, Brittany, Alyssa, and Selena had
not pressed for many details. Yet.
 
And Selena had been surprisingly compassionate, wrapping her in hugs and
holding back all sniping about Dominic and his unsuitability as a match for
Kendra.

She aced compartmentalization. When she wasn’t
working she tended to move around in a dense mental fog. She didn’t trust
leaving the apartment without checking several sticky notes attached to the
front door:
Check stove, iron, and water
faucets!
She’d also lost her desire to knit.

When she wasn’t at Aunt Jackie’s place, doing her
volunteer work, or handling agency business, she took to her bed and watched
tearjerker movies, though Christmas was just a few days away.

Kendra had pulled out an old photo album she’d
borrowed from her aunt and looked at the numerous smiling childhood photos of
Vanessa.
  

 
She
had been so quick to judge the never-ending slew of soft-focus boasting blog
and social media snapshots of Vanessa’s “perfect” life with doting Ashton.
She’d ridiculed Vanessa’s need to share “her highlight reel” with the world and
feed off the adoration of her followers.

What Kendra had learned brought on the sensation
of dry drowning the more she thought about it. A different sort of nightmare
emerged, not one with eight-year-old Kendra cast as the victim, but one with a
prepubescent Vanessa suffering through horrendous exploitation.

Missing out on the opportunity to represent one of
the best manuscripts Kendra had read in a long time now seemed so petty. Other
fantastic manuscripts would come her way. That’s why she’d chosen this
business. Why couldn’t she have been sensible when it mattered? Before she’d
sacrificed her relationship with Dominic. She missed his strong arms around
her; the warm rumble of his deep voice against her ear; that
how-did-I-get-so-darn-lucky twinkle in his eyes when he looked at her; the way
he liked to play with the colored lock of her hair; his “cornucopia” of
 
utterly dreadful punch lines.

But Dominic had kept his word. No visits. No yarn.
No gag gifts. No phone calls. No stupid viral Internet memes. No pleading texts
or emails.

Unlike previous breakups, Kendra found little
solace in her usual comfort foods: ice cream sundaes, Cool Ranch Doritos, and
onion-laden Philly cheesesteaks. Or even her beloved brewski. Perhaps it was
best that she was more prone to think, rather than drink, through her darkest
times.
 
With her gut in knots, she
still couldn’t consume much beyond sugary breakfast cereal. If she kept this
up, her favorite jeans would no longer fit. While she’d bemoaned a little
weight gain the last time she was with Dominic, she actually loved her curves
and wanted to keep them.

 
As the
nausea persisted and her period failed to show, she became anxious, recalling
that day she’d had sex with Dominic and the broken condom. So far, several
early home pregnancy tests had been negative. She would wait a few more days
and test again.

Kendra worked her way through envelopes until her
hands paused on one from Corinne. She had reached out with a beautiful
Christmas card and long letter with an earnest apology for the spineless way
she’d handled changing her mind about working with Porter Literary Agency.
Kendra knew all about taking the coward’s way.

Corinne’s explanation, Dominic’s style was the
better fit for her temperament. Momster Ostertag had also lobbied for Dominic
after hearing his pitch.
Surprise.
Surprise.

When Kendra rose from the sofa too quickly, she
felt light-headed. It was high time she put some decent nutrients in her body
to keep up her strength. Protein. Veggies. Grains. So she fixated on that
Philly cheesesteak on a whole wheat bun recipe she’d ripped out of the latest
Rachael Ray
magazine. “
Yummo!
” Rachael promised.

Maybe inhaling its aroma would arouse Kendra’s
appetite. She made a trip to the store to buy all the fixings that Saturday
afternoon. She returned to her apartment and proceeded to chop white onions for
the sandwich and her left index finger.
 
That finger oozed hours later even after she’d applied pressure as
instructed on those first-aid websites.
 
Visions of bleeding to death in her sleep held little appeal so she
skipped a much-needed nap. Eventually she panicked, dressed, and dashed to the
ER where, miraculously, she didn’t have to wait for hours to see a doctor.

A young physician with a strong-boned face and
auburn hair scraped back in a low man-bun joined her in the small curtained
area.
 
As he inspected her wound she
pleaded,
Bleed, sucker, bleed.
Clotting had inconveniently kicked in as the doctor sat on the stool next to
the examining table where she’d perched.

Exhaustion dimmed his eyes. Though his badge read
Dr. David, she dubbed him Dr. Dour.

Kendra gave him the once-over. He wore scrubs with
neon sneakers. The kind Dominic would wear.
No.
No. No.
 
Steer thoughts away from
Dominic.
That’s what drove you here
in the first place.

“Cool kicks!”
said Kendra, her jittery smile a little too wide
.

“
Thank
you
. My wife
bought
them
for me.”

 
Whoops!
Did he think she was flirting?
“The laceration needs sutures?”
Kendra repeated a line she’d read in medical thrillers written by her client
J.R. Atkinson. She hoped it would require at least four or five stitches. No,
six stitches
and
a splint. Shoot, six
stitches, a splint
and
a prescription
painkiller. An opioid would block her pain and have a euphoric side effect. She
could use all the artificially-stimulated euphoria she could get.

 
After
examining her injury, he pushed out a heavy breath and his scornful look seemed
to say,
Would you like me to kiss your
boo-boo and make it all better?

Dr. Dour came to his feet, called over the nurse
wearing a sparkly reindeer-antlers headband, and gave her instructions.
 
The older woman’s lips tipped up in a
mollifying smile. Had the doctor dismissed himself to call for Kendra’s psych
evaluation? She wanted to slink away.
 
Hey, it was gushing like a geys
er
a minute ago
,
and it still hurts like heck!
She considered waving the
blood-stained gauze at the nurse.

 
“That’s beautiful,” Kendra said instead,
referring to the gold-chained crucifix catching light and encircling the
woman’s neck.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a look at Kendra’s
injury.

When the nurse dabbed what looked like an
antiseptic solution on a Q-tip and applied three itty-bitty white adhesive
strips, Kendra felt like an idiot.
 
What had come over her?
 
“So,
I take it you’re all out of Hello Kitty Band-Aids,” she joked through her
humiliation.

“The sight of our own blood can be frightening
sometimes,” the nurse said with tact Kendra did not deserve. “Digits can seem
to bleed endlessly. When was the last time you had a tetanus, dear?”

“I can’t remember getting one.”

“Well, there you go. You should have a tetanus
every ten years. Maybe that’s why the dear Lord led you here.”

The “dear Lord” had nothing to do with Kendra’s
poor judgment or the outrageous co-pay ER bill sure to follow, but she smiled
and submitted to the shot so something beneficial would come out of the
unnecessary visit.

On her way out, she passed another partitioned
area, and then her heart must have stopped. There stood …
No it couldn’t be…Dominic
?