“You’re just going to leave?” He crossed his arms. “Just like that?”
“Yeah.” I walked toward the door. “Except this time, I won’t bother waiting for you.”
I CHECKED MY PHONE for the umpteenth time, kicking myself for not picking an earlier flight. For actually believing that James would immediately read my letter and run after me.
It’s over Kate. For real this time…
Sighing, I walked down to Pike Place Market and headed to the flower stands. All of a sudden, a sweet scent I hadn’t smelled in years wafted past my nose and I recognized it instantly.
“Mom?” I took a few steps forward, tapping the shoulder of a woman dressed in a beautiful pink blazer. “Mom, is that you?”
She froze at the sound of my voice.
“Mom, it’s me. Kate.”
She stood still for several seconds before slowly turning around to face me.
With a bouquet of white roses tucked into her bag, she lifted a pair of shades onto her head and looked me up and down.
“Kate,” she said. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
“I have been. It’s been a rough—”
“I sure hope it was all worth it.” She interrupted me. “Everything you gave up in Edgewood and left behind for this.” She waved her hand around and shrugged. “Sure doesn’t look like it was worth it, though.”
“I’ve always wanted to reach out to you and see if we could go over some things.”
“Kate, please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I felt my heart aching all over again. “Try to have a conversation with my own mother?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “That. What we had is over, but I do wish you the best. Take care of yourself and be well.”
She turned away without another word, and I continued to watch her every step. Hoping she would look over her shoulder just once, but she never did.
“Miss Kennedy?” a deep voice said from behind me. “Miss Kennedy?”
I didn’t move. I just stared straight ahead.
“Um, Miss?” He moved in front of me. “I don’t mean to come off like a stalker, but Mr. Holmes has insisted that I drive you to the airport this evening.”
“Tell Mr. Holmes that I don’t want anything else from him.”
…
Kate
~August 1, 2009~
TO: KATE KENSINGTON
The Kensington Estates
Edgewood, Nevada
DEAR KATE,
2, 7, & 19.
There are only two ways to get to my apartment, so I spend most of my time avoiding the traffic to get there. Last night, I thought about at least seven different ways that I want to devour your pussy the next time I see you. And per your suggestion, I’ve tried coffee (nineteen more times since arriving, by the way) and I’ve consistently failed to enjoy the taste.
I’m now convinced that people buy it in expensive cups, just because they want to look like they can afford it. (Interesting business model, if so. I may need to pursue that when I finish this program …)
Hope you’re still waiting for me,
James Garrett
TO: KATE KENSINGTON
The Kensington Estates
Edgewood, Nevada
Dear Kate,
100, 32, and 1.
I’m not sure why I never told you about the shipping pier that sits directly across from the river here. I’ve watched at least one hundred people stand in front of a dilapidated “Welcome to Penn” sign instead of getting the city’s skyline in their background.
My new roommate is thirty-two years old and “miserably married.” He says he got married too young and both he and his wife have cheated on each other, but it costs too much for them to consider a divorce. (My other roommate, interestingly enough, is his wife …)
I almost bought a one-way ticket home the other day.
We take our first international trip next week. Make sure you download Skype.
I miss you, Kate.
P.S.—Did you know that Starbucks makes billions of dollars in profit selling their brand of liquid dirt? I’ve been studying them in my free time for the past few weeks, but I don’t know if I’ll like their coffee either. What do you think?
Hope you’re still waiting for me,
James Garrett
“I just got your latest letter.” I laughed as I curled under my blanket. “I don’t think coffee will ever be for you.”
“I’m starting to think the same.” He laughed. “How was your first day of graduate school?”
“Good, but it was unfortunately cut short since my professor recognized me.” I groaned. “He led the entire class over to the theater building and asked me to play Chopin.”
“Did you play it well?”
“No. According to him, I was quite phenomenal.”
He laughed. “How is Sarah Kay?”
“She just snuck back in an hour ago, but other than that, she’s tired of me talking about you every day.” I smiled. “She avoids me more often these days.”
“My roommates feel the same way about you.” He asked me more questions about my week, told me he missed me, and ended the call the way he’d always ended it since we’d been apart.
“This is only temporary, Kate,” he said. “It’s all going to work out. I love you, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”