CHAPTER NINE
Caitlyn
I woke up the next morning still high from my day with KP. It all seemed like a dream — one amazing dream. I had a hard time accepting the fact that I was no longer broke, and it didn’t sink in until KP’s accountant called. We went over the details of the contract, defining how much money I would be getting from the sale and when I would be getting it. Even with all the facts, figures and details, it still wasn’t sinking in that I was almost a millionaire.
When I finished my phone conversation, I just sat there and cried. Everything in life seemed so big and overwhelming, I could barely function. I called Tammy. She was my rock, she would fix me.
“Hey, you,” I said when she answered her cell.
“Hey, you back. How’s Gran today? Everything okay? I’m at work, but you know I’ll drop everything if I need to.” There was a sad note of fear in her voice.
“No, nothing’s changed from yesterday. She’s still out of it, and the hospital won’t release her yet. I’m going to see her in a few, and I’ll update you then.”
“Okay…” her voice still sounded worried. “So, what’s wrong? You never call while I’m at work unless something’s wrong.”
“Right, sorry. Well, are you sitting down, cause what I’m going to tell you might knock you over.”
“Yeah, I’m sitting. Hit me with it.” She was worried, I could tell.
“I sold all my paintings to that guy who came into the diner,” I said in one breath.
“Him? But… but you hate him.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Yeah, I know. It’s a long story, but Tam… I’m a millionaire. He bought them for that, and he’s commissioned me to paint another one for him. I’m… I’m…” I didn’t know what I was.
If anyone was going to call me out on my shit, it would be Tammy. She’s like me. She could give a damn about money. If I was compromising my ideals and beliefs, especially for money —or sex or anything else — I was gonna die by her hand.
“What exactly do you mean about painting one for him? Of what, Caitlyn Marie Ashcroft?”
“First, you’re not my mother, so don’t Caitlyn Marie me. Second, it’s legit. His lawyer drafted a contract that his accountant discussed with me on the phone a few minutes ago. It’s all legal. The money is going through Miguel first, then I should have my part by Monday. The commissioned work is like for five hundred an hour or some craziness.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Why would I do that? Like hey, Tam, I’m a millionaire. Just kidding.”
“Okay, is anyone going to be naked?” She was being a mother again.
“If anyone is naked, it’s my choice. If I want to paint them or sleep with them or—”
“Hold up,” she interrupted, “it’s your choice, but you may not have all your faculties in order with Gran sick and him dangling a million clams at you. Are you considering sleeping with this guy? Cat, you hardly know him. That’s like some serious kept-girl shit.”
“I’m not, I was just seeing if you were paying attention,” I lied. I really was testing her reaction to see what I would face if I did choose to sleep with KP.
I couldn’t believe I was even considering the idea. She was right, I was a mess.
“When don’t I listen to you?” she asked, incensed.
“The painting is one of those pretentious mantelpiece portraits of his brother,” I confessed.
“This shit just keeps getting weirder.”
“I’ll find out what it’s all about when I meet him. KP says he’s special. The way he said it was loving and kind of protective, so I think there’s something going on there. Also, I’ve drawn my line in the sand. He knows where I stand. So, if anything gets dangerous, I have you on speed dial and there’s always 911. I’ll be fine.”
She was quiet for so long that I looked at my phone to see if we’d been disconnected. “Tam?”
“Holy fuck girl, you’re a millionaire!” she yelled.
“I know, right!” I yelled back.
Tammy was my soul mate. I only wished we were attracted to one another because she got me and I got her. We had the kind of indelible friendship that would outlast any man. She was planning on marrying Jamal Price, a local football hero. In addition to being a star athlete, he was also in his first year of law school. With Tammy being an engineer and Jamal a soon-to-be lawyer, they were just biding their time until they were established enough in their careers to get married. They both wanted a solid foundation to build on. I tried to learn from Tammy and Jamal, but I always seemed to be scrambling. That was why all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours had not yet sunk in.
The next person I had to tell was Gran, so I got my ass up, got ready, and headed to the hospital hoping Gran would be improved. When I arrived, Gran seemed to be in better spirits. She was sitting up and eating, which was a first. In the last few days, she had been either sleepy or incoherent. Today, she was her usual chipper, irreverent self.
“Hi, gorgeous,” I said as I walked into the room.
She winked. “Back at ya.”
“So, how’s the green jello today?”
“It’s a hit.” She cocked a solid white eyebrow. “So, when are you busting me out of here?”
“You seem to be doing better today. I’ll just go get my cape and we’ll jet.”
“Dr. Pushkin is out with Nurse Ratchet. You should go get a medical release first,” she instructed.
“I think I will. That nurse treatin’ yous bad, Gran?” I said in my best mobster voice. “Cause I’s knows a guy…yous knows whadda mean?”
“She likes to stick me with needles, the bitch.”
Relief washed over me. “She was really back to her old self. Time to liberate.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a flash and no more needles,” I promised.
“No need for them now, I got this,” she said as she showed me the PICC line in her side.
My heart sank. Gran had one when she was originally diagnosed with cancer. Now that she had the line again, it confirmed my worst fears. Her cancer had returned. Dr. Pushkin had been vague about the masses they found, but this almost certainly proved they were back.
I walked out into the hall to find Dr. Pushkin at the nurses’ station as Gran suggested he would be. I waved to him, letting him know that I was there. He gave me a “one minute” sign with his finger and signed some papers before heading my way.
“I’m glad you’re here, I was about to call you,” he said, all businesslike.
“What’s up?” I was trying to sound lighthearted, but it came out crazy and desperate.
“I think we should discuss this in my office,” he said as he shuttled me into the small cubical behind the nurses’ station. He offered me a seat and I sat down, terrified.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my fingers wringing together.
He sighed. “We have the preliminary reports back from the lab, and the results are not as promising as I’d hope they’d be.”
“Um…” My tongue was too thick too talk.
“Your grandmother’s cancer has returned, and it is a very aggressive recurrence. There is metastasis in almost every organ of her body. We can offer chemo again, but at her age, I don’t think it wise. We have some other treatment options, which we can go over. I’ve mentioned them to her already, and she’s not interested in pursuing any form of treatment. I wanted to discuss this with you because I could help you get power of attorney for her care if that is your wish. But I do feel that Eula is in full command of her faculties, and I think she might know what’s best for her at this stage. It’s her decision to make.” He essentially delivered a death sentence for Gran as if he was reading a cake recipe.
“So, you’re just going to let her die?” I asked on the verge of tears.
“We can keep her comfortable. She would be allowed to go home if she wanted, and we would assist her with pain management.” He offered me a tissue almost as robotically as he had announced Gran’s “execution.”
“And you guys aren’t going to do anything at all?” I nearly screamed.
“We’ve done all we can at this stage. The treatment options left will either compromise your grandmother’s quality of life or endanger it.” I hated the matter of fact way he approached her murder.
“How long does she have?” I hated the question, but I needed to know.
“A week, possibly six. Less, most likely. It’s hard to say exactly.”
“Oh my god! Are you saying she could die any day now?” I grabbed my hair in both fists. I needed to hit something, hard.
“We’ll do our best to provide pain management,” he repeated.
“Fuck you!” I said through gritted teeth, jumping to my feet. I stuck a finger out at him. “Fuck you and your fucking pain management. I want you to do your job and fucking save her life!”
When I stormed out of his office, he didn’t follow me.
I burst into Gran’s room and tried to plaster a smile on my face. “We’re getting you out of here. Let’s go!” I pulled the blanket down her legs and lowered the rails, my hands trembling so hard I could barely press the lever.
“Okay.” She looked confused, but was already swinging her legs off the side.
Nurse Ratchet rushed in. “Ms. Ashcroft, we need Ms. Darning to sign some forms and arrange for a hospice care provider. The hospital hasn’t released your grandmother yet.”
I whirled on her. “Oh yes they have. They released her the minute they said they wouldn’t do anything more for her!”
“Pumpkin…” Gran’s small voice broke through my haze of grief and anger. When I turned, she was patting the bed beside her. “Come, sit with me.
I didn’t think I could do it. It was like a million pounds were strapped to my shoulders, but I managed to take a place beside her without bursting into tears or puking my guts up.
“Gran, it’s okay. I… just… we need to find another hospital or something.”
“Ah, this one’s alright,” she said, stroking my hair. “The bastards have grown on me.”
I leaned into the touch. “Well, that’s generous of you, but we need a second opinion.”
“How many people does it take to screw in a light bulb?” she asked.
I didn’t want to play this game, but I humored her. “I don’t know, Gran, how many?”
“Same number it takes for someone to know when they’re dying. Just one.” She continued to stroke my hair as my eyes flooded with tears.
“No…”
“Oh, honey, I’ve known for a while now. I don’t want to eat bees or zap myself with gamma radiation for a couple more days of feeling like shit. Forever isn’t enough time to be with you, so if I went today, tomorrow, or a million years from now, it still would never be enough time.”
“Gran—”
She shushed me. “I want to see you get married, have kids, be a grandmother, be famous. You know, do all your growing up. Just because I’m not here to see it, doesn’t mean I won’t know. You’re all I live for, kiddo. You’re everything. But I can live for you in heaven. I can see you from there. I can even haunt you if I want.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed hard.
It was almost like what she said to me in the dream. A shiver ran up my spine and made me shudder. She pulled me in close.
“I don’t want to let you go,” I choked out through the tears.
“I think it’s time I see my daughter. I’m looking forward to that. I’ve really been missing her.” She squeezed my hand again. “And don’t worry, I’m not going today. I got a few good days in me. We’ll do it up.”
I thought of the million dollars and how we could now “do it up” in style.
“Guess what, Gran.”
“What, sweetie?”
“I sold my paintings. I can quit the diner, so I’ll be able to be with you. Take care of you.”
She smiled, showing all of her dentures. “Well, you’re getting famous already. I’m so glad I get to see that. Gonna see you quit that shithole too, my life’s complete.”
I grinned. “Yeah, quitting that shithole will be fun.”
“Let’s say a proper fuck you to mortality and eat bad stuff, watch scary movies, and cuddle,” Gran proclaimed in her adorable, perfectly imperfect way.
“Okay, let’s do it!” Somehow, she rallied me, and I was there, ready to say goodbye, even though I had no idea how I’d ever manage without her.
The first thing we did when the hospital finally released Gran was go to Baskin-Robbins. She got a triple scoop of ice cream — Jamoca Almond Fudge, Pralines and Cream, and Mint Chocolate Chip. She only ate part of it, but if we were flying the bird at mortality, she was doing it in grand style.
She also listened in to my phone call with Ma when I quit my job at the diner. I didn’t give them too much information because they already had about a week’s worth of great gossip to chew on. Rumor had it, I was sleeping with KP and we had a fight, which was why he came back to the restaurant. I was pregnant with his baby, but I, being the bitch I was, didn’t want it. He—according to them—had bought me an apartment in Manhattan and I was going to move there any day now.
What crazy nonsense, and the crazier thing was, they all believed it. I was just happy to be out of there.
I didn’t quit my job at the center. It was only a few days a week and I loved working with the kids. I needed something to help me keep my head on straight and Gran and I both agreed I needed them. As soon as I got Gran settled in her room, I told her about KP. I expected to get a tongue whipping, but she was thrilled.
“You don’t think I’m being stupid?” I asked.
“Hell, child, love is stupid,” she told me as she started getting groggy and tired.
“Well, I’m not in love,” I confessed.
“Oh yes you are,” she rebutted, “you just don’t know it yet.”
I started to argue, but she closed her eyes and I left her to rest. I spent the rest of the night looking at our old photo albums and crying.
The next morning, a hospice nurse named Athena came to the door. She was a beautiful woman in her late thirties, robust, dark-skinned, and oozing love.
“What do I need to do?” I asked after our introductions, terrified to hear the answer.
Gran may have made her peace with dying, but I sure hadn’t.
“Since it’s just you caring for your grandmother, we’ll have a nurse here throughout most of the day. It will usually be me or my partner Bernard,” she said kindly.
I still felt like I was in the twilight zone.
“What about when I have to go to work?” I asked.
“Leave your schedule with me, and we’ll make sure that Ms. Darning has care.” Her tone was so angelic it hypnotized me into a feeling of safety and wellness.
I’d planned on cancelling with KP, but after being assured by Athena that she would take good care of Gran, I went ahead with my plans.
Leaving my grandmother in Athena’s capable hands, I waited for KP to pick me up for the first day of my painting assignment. The Bentley pulled up in front of our house, but surprisingly, KP was driving. I got into the car feeling sad and overwhelmed. KP immediately noticed my distress.
“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked with a note of true kindness and interest.
“No,” I assured him. “I just got some bad news. I’ll be okay.”
“Do you want to do this another day? There’s no time pressure. We can do this later if you want.”
I took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”
“How about a little music,” he offered.
I smiled and closed my eyes. “That would be great.”
I was trying to shake off my sadness, but it was hard to do until he put on the music. Then the music began to rock and I laughed.
“Abba?” I couldn’t believe him. I’d pictured him a snooty jazz or opera kind of guy.
He just smiled this enormous grin, tapping the steering wheel to Dancing Queen.
I shook my head. My life just got that much weirder. But within fifteen minutes of entering the vehicle, we were both moving to the music and singing like bohemians. I had a pretty good voice, which I was rockin’ because it felt so good. He didn’t have a good voice at all, but he was rockin’ it anyway. It made me laugh. Laughing felt right.
He pulled up to the Harbor House Adult Care Facility For People With Psychological Disabilities, and I was immediately intrigued. A valet instantly came to his driver’s side door to take the car. The man knew KP by name and was very friendly with him. The same with the front desk staff, who greeted KP warmly as he introduced me to them.
“Wenton’s house is just down this way,” KP said as I followed him out of the main building.
“Does he work here?” I asked, then realized the question might be inappropriate.
“I’m sure he thinks he does,” he answered with a laugh.
We walked down a paved pathway to an adorable little cottage. KP didn’t bother knocking on the door, just walked in.
“Hey, bro,” he yelled, “I brought a surprise for you.” He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “He doesn’t get many visitors. Even the Amazon delivery guy is a surprise for him.”
Within moments, a very tall, remarkably slight man with an infectious grin ambled over to KP, in a valiant attempt to run.
“KP,” he squealed, clearly thrilled to see his brother.
I grinned, in love with him immediately. This man was very special. Not just as one would define a person with special needs, but special as in glowing with happiness. He was all love. It radiated from every inch of his body.
“Here you are, here you are, here you are!” he announced with unwavering joy.
“I want you to meet my friend.” KP gestured to me. “This is Caitlyn. She’s going to paint your picture.”
“The pretty girl from the photo,” he shouted, “the prettiest one.” Then I was scooped into an embrace, and I hugged him back. Yes, it was love at first sight.
The cottage was quaint and small. The walls were natural wood and there was a great view from a picture window in the sitting area. On every inch of available space were artifacts and items a teenage boy would find fascinating: football jerseys, signed guitars, rock and roll posters, production stills from fantasy and sci-fi film movies signed by directors. There were also signed footballs and soccer balls encased in glass. The place was a playground for a hypothetically very rich, very spoiled teenage boy. To look at Wenton, though, who was clearly in his late twenties or early thirties, he was a sweet-spirited person who seemed to grab hold of the good things in life vivaciously.
“Yep, Wenton, this is her,” KP confirmed.
“See, see!” Wenton raced to get his cell phone. He scrolled through the pictures and mumbled to himself, noting each one as he swiped past them. “Here it is! The prettiest girl in the world.”
He was smiling from ear to ear when he showed me the selfie of KP and me at the diner.
“What is this?” I asked Wenton as nicely as I could, trying not to let on that it made me feel weird that he had my picture in his phone.
I was feeling a little off-center and slightly bamboozled by the two brothers. Wenton clearly had some cognitive delays, so I didn’t want to fault him for his overexaggeration. However, it felt very contrived.
“It’s a picture of the prettiest girl in the world,” Wenton answered.
I lifted a brow to KP, and he just motioned for us to sit at the small living space near the picture window.
“Wenton has been sending me on a wild goose chase of sorts since we were young,” he prefaced.
“Like a scavenger hunt?” I asked, still trying to see how our selfie fit in.
“Yeah, a hunt!” Wenton laughed. “I think of things for him to do, and he has to send me a picture on my phone of him doing them.”
“We’ve been playing this game since we were kids,” KP added.
“It’s fun,” Wenton said exuberantly, “wanna see some of them?”
Wenton scooted closer to me on the couch, ready to show me his phone.
“Sure.”
“These are the Catskill Mountains in upstate New York,” he started and proceeded to show me all the pictures on his phone After seeing the first few, I became rather impressed with the efforts KP had made to satisfy Wenton’s scavenging requests. There were pictures of specific kinds of birds and urban wildlife, such as raccoons, skunks, and rats. There was even one of a bear that was amazing.
There were also locations from around the globe — the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, the Pyramids. I realized that KP had sent Wenton photographs from six of the seven wonders of the world. There were mundane shots as well, like an old woman eating an ice-cream cone, a banjo player playing for money in a subway, Ma’s diner.
All of the shots had a kind of simple and ironic beauty. Interspersed between the candid photos were pictures of movie stars in their costumes from science fiction films, actors sending notes with the texts wishing Wenton well, etc. In fact, Wenton’s iPhone would probably be worth millions of dollars. KP had a good eye, but what was most astounding about the pictures he took was the love for Wenton they revealed. He wasn’t just satisfying a request, he was giving Wenton a window into a world he would never get the opportunity to see.
Warmth flooded my heart, and I looked up, seeing KP differently than I had a minute before. For a man I considered selfish, self-absorbed, and rude, he had gone to great lengths to satisfy the requests of his brother.
“I have a bad heart,” Wenton said, tapping his chest. “I don’t get to go out much so KP sees the world for me.” He chuckled, his big grin lighting up the room. “I made him go to a greasy spoon diner late at night because I saw a movie that had an old diner in it.”
Ah… so that explained it.
“That’s why he came into Ma’s.” I glanced over at KP and something stirred deep inside me. “Of all the diners you could have chosen, you chose mine.”
Wenton laughed. “I knew he would hate it; he’s such a snob. But he met you there. He told me that he hated the food and it was yucky and I laughed at him. You should try the food here, I told him. But he said it wasn’t all bad because he met the most beautiful girl in the world there.”
I was stunned. “Well, I wouldn’t say I was that.”
Wenton blinked rapidly. “I would.”
KP jumped to his feet. “How about we all get some lunch?”
He was clearly nervous that his brother had revealed such an intimate detail. In my eyes, however, it made him look less lecherous and sex crazed and… more real. I could see them having that conversation just as normal brothers do. Not a billionaire setting his sights on his next conquest, but an older brother confiding in a younger one that he had met a hot girl. This made me laugh. It was so innocent and fun.
We had a lovely afternoon together. KP ordered us a lunch of roasted mushroom and pheasant empanadas with an arugula salad, crisp white wine, and a sugared pear tart. Apparently, Wenton had his own cook, and while he joked about eating the food at the facility, he rarely was subjected to it. The meal was quite decadent and wonderful, and despite the sophisticated palette one needed to enjoy the gamy tasting bird and rugged mushrooms, Wenton gobbled it up.
After our meal, Wenton wanted to show me his collection of memorabilia and artifacts. He went around the room and discussed each of the lovingly displayed items. His favorite was a signed light saber from the original “Star Wars” movie, a “Final Fantasy” original still and one of Elton John’s pianos.
As he showed me his treasures, I realized his room was actually a museum. So much pop culture and history were collected here. Everything was authentic and most were signed with a personal note to Wenton. It was amazing to see how much love and care surrounded him. Obviously, only a man with an incredible amount of money, power, and connections could pull off a room like this. While I hadn’t seen KP’s house and didn’t know if he had anything similar, I did know that he had put a lot of time and effort into creating this for Wenton. It again showed a more tender side of KP, one who dearly loved his disabled brother.
After Wenton showed me around his cottage, we walked the grounds, and he introduced me to his friends. I met a host of people with a vast range of mental health conditions. I started to understand that the residents were people who, for either medical or mental reasons, couldn’t live outside of the facility.
Most of Wenton’s friends were genuinely kind people, yet all were affected by some unseen ailment that seemed to plague them in one way or another. These were lovely people trying their hardest to find some right in all of the wrong around them. It was both amazing and tragic, because while they presumably struggled, they also saw things no one else did, both the good and the bad. They could see between the lines and the things they discovered both excited and terrified them. It made me think about mental illness. Why did these people need to be separate from society? Why couldn’t society see their struggle and make a larger space for them? Meeting Wenton and his friends brought up a lot of questions for me.
I assumed my father must have been mentally ill. To put your wife and child in your car with the intention of killing one or both of them was insane. He thought what he was doing was right. He assumed that my mom deserved to die for what he perceived was her trespass against him. But if he had been given a chance to get help before his delusions swelled out of control, they both might still be alive today. It was only by some grace of momentary sanity that I wasn’t also killed. It all felt very overwhelming.
After we made our way around the grounds and returned to Wenton’s cottage, KP announced it was time to start the painting. I set up my easel and paints, laid a drop cloth, and put on a smock so as not to get everything covered in paint. KP laughed at me as I stood there ready to paint.
“Now you look the part,” he teased.
“You know painters actually wear this stuff. It keeps things from getting all painty and dirty,” I quipped playfully.
“I bet most painters don’t look as sexy as you do wearing it,” he smoldered.
“I bet most patrons know it’s impossible to look sexy in a large, formless garment that is basically just a bed sheet sewn into a jacket,” I played.
His nostrils flared, as did desire in his eyes. “I bet most patrons don’t have to wish the painters would let them—”
“Don’t!” I gave him a warning glare. “I’m completely positive most patrons don’t wonder anything about the painters they work with.”
He winked. “You’d be surprised.”
I didn’t think KP even knew what he was doing. Maybe he couldn’t help being sexual. He may have been so used to it that when faced with desire, he had no way to tame it completely. I felt safe since Wenton was there and I was starting to trust KP a little more. Luckily, Wenton had no idea what we were talking about and tried to stay as still as possible while I sketched him. My sketching didn’t take long. I was kind of a mad scientist when it came to drawing. I would be able to start the first layers of the painting right away.
I looked at Wenton’s facial features, which were different than most people’s. There was an oddness to their crafting, making Wenton look even more friendly and childlike. I wanted to make sure I captured the intellect behind his eyes which saw beauty in the peripheral dimensions of the world. His need for images of old women and ice cream, or firefighters sitting on a bench covered in sweat and soot defined his vision of the life he imagined around him. He saw the fine lines in humanity and the unspoken stories.
KP was able to capture those moments with his eye and iPhone, but it was Wenton who knew they existed even though he had no proof beyond his own four walls. I also wanted to illuminate the kindness and love that simply radiated from him. As I started to paint, I soon discovered that Wenton was one of the most genuinely beautiful humans I’d ever met.
We spent hours together as I painted. We gave Wenton several breaks as we all shared wine and food, talked more of the things that KP had seen on Wenton’s behalf and shared stories of their childhood together. Apparently, KP was quite a mischievous child, which came as no shock to me.
I smiled at Wenton. “That’s not hard to believe.”
“Wait, that’s not fair,” KP protested.
Wenton raised a finger. “Is too.”
KP gave his little brother the eye. “No, tell her the truth.”
“I used to get KP in trouble,” Wenton said, peeking up through his lashes. “I would do all the bad stuff and blame it on him. He never could get out of it cause our mom just assumed he did it. My parents didn’t think I was smart enough to pull off some of the crazy stuff we did.” He giggled, causing me to laugh at the sweet sound.
“Like what?” I was intrigued.
KP crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh yes, Wenton, share with Miss Ashcroft all of the insane stuff you got me in trouble for.”
“Well, let’s see.” Wenton tapped his chin. “My mom was allergic to bees so I blew dandelion seeds all over her garden. Eventually the garden was overrun by dandelion flowers and bees!”
“Wenton,” I scolded, “bee allergies are very serious.”
“Yes, and so are punishments for ruining mom’s garden,” KP added.
Wenton ignored us both. “Then I replaced all the sugar bowls with salt. Aunt Margret barfed at breakfast after drinking a big gulp of coffee.”
“Oh my god, Wenton, you were horrible!” I teased.
“No, what was horrible was being forced to hear Aunt Margret’s hour-long tirade about what a crappy person I was,” KP said with a note of real sadness.
“Why did you do all those mean things, Wenton?” I asked, still trying to keep things light.
“Nobody paid attention to me,” Wenton said, completely honest. “I thought I could get attention. KP’s a great liar, so no one believed him when he told the truth. I walked every time.”
A good liar, huh? I filed that bit of information away in my brain for later. While I was starting to trust KP a little more, I didn’t trust him entirely, which was smart. We barely knew each other.
We stayed until dark, and it was time to go since KP had a long drive back to New York. We said our goodbyes and shared our plans to see him again the following weekend. Wenton was sad to see us go, but happy that we would be returning.
On the ride back to my house, I thought he might turn on Abba again, but he let the quiet surround us for a few minutes. H was battling with himself over some issue, I could tell. I got a little nervous, but not enough to say anything or unsheathe my sword. After a few minutes of just watching the scenery pass, KP spoke up.
“Wenton was diagnosed with Williams Syndrome when he was about two years old. It’s a chromosomal disorder that affects his brain, heart, lungs and facial features.”
“I think he’s lovely.”
“Yeah, he’s amazing. He was never supposed to live past his third birthday. We had quite a scare with him, actually. He and I shared a room. We had fifteen or so rooms in our house, but my mom had read that siblings needed to share rooms. I’m five years older than he is, so I think she thought that if she put him with me, I could help him if something went wrong.”
He paused for so long I wasn’t sure if he’d continue. His fingers were gripping the steering wheel so hard the knuckles were white.
“My parents’ room was at the other end of the house, so we slept next door to the nanny. She was the one who did most of the mothering, although “she” could have been any of them. It was hard to keep track of them all. Mom would fire them for the slightest infringement or trespass. She kept us all under strict rules and regulations. No child should grow up that way, but certainly not Wenton,” he said sadly.
“It sounds awful.”
“In some ways it was worse than awful. We both knew that families were different than ours. Most ate dinner together, not alone with only each other as company. Most went on big, fun family vacations to the beach with bright, colorful sun umbrellas or camping in the mountains where they got mosquito bites and saw bears. We traveled to exotic locations and stayed with hotel staff while our parents gallivanted around. I was able to bear it just fine, I didn’t need to be with them, but it was taxing on Wenton.”
“What happened?” I asked, hoping not to sound too eager, but his story was so compelling.
“He was still sleeping in a crib at three years old. He should have gotten a toddler bed by then, but since my mom thought he was safer with the bars and bedding, she ordered that he stay in a crib. He was a very slight child and not very strong. One night, he tried to climb out of his crib. He reached for the pulley for the drapes to hoist himself up. His leg slipped on the railing, and he fell out of the crib, hitting his head hard on the floor. I ran and got the nanny, but by the time I was able to wake her and get her to our room, he was having seizures.”
“Oh my god.”
“The paramedics came and took him to the hospital. When he came home, he was different. The concussion injured his brain, which was already really delicate because of his condition. He was still smart, but he did things that were really dumb, like he just had no common sense. He almost drowned in the lake because he always stood on the bow of the boat. He grabbed knives by the pointy end and got cut. He just didn’t have any sense. He kissed a girl when he was thirteen, and he didn’t know what he was doing. She was scared, their family got involved, and it was a big deal. My family felt like Wenton was just becoming too much for them to handle, so when he had a heart attack that same year and went to the hospital, he never came home again.”
“Why didn’t he come back?” I asked softly.
“My mom didn’t want to deal with it anymore, I guess. Even though we had a live-in nurse at the time, she decided it was time for him to live in a place where he could get better care.”
“What about your dad?”
“He was never home. He left all the decisions regarding our care to her.” He was so melancholy, I could tell that there was a horrible sadness deeply rooted there.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, it sounds really awful.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah. Well, we’re okay now. I’m really happy you accepted the offer to paint his portrait. I can already tell that you’re painting exactly what I hoped you would.”
We pulled up to my house, and he turned off the engine. My heart fluttered. I sent a silent prayer that he not pressure me for a kiss or anything, because as I was getting to know him better, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to resist him. He was, especially with the way the moonlight danced on his features, the sexist person alive. I tried to breathe.
“Do you mind doing me a favor?” he asked.
He was being too genuine to be asking for a kiss, sex, or anything I had barred as off-limits.
“What do you need?” For some reason, I felt trapped and nervous.
“Can you not mention Wenton to your friends, and especially the people at the diner.”
“Sure, but why?”
“It’s um… well. I’m still KP. Kembrough Preston, Oscar award-winning producer…blah blah blah, so…”
So, he was ashamed? I couldn’t read him, but I was horribly afraid I wouldn’t like what he said next.
“If people, namely the media, found out about Wenton, it would be really bad,” he confessed.
I bristled. “I don’t think Wenton comes off as bad as you think. He’s a great guy!”
“No, it’s not that. I think he’s the greatest guy. He’s my best friend, but if the media were to find out about him, it could really hurt him.”
I still didn’t understand. “Why? Wouldn’t it raise awareness for his disease?”
“Maybe. But it would open him up to reporters and social media and internet trolls. He can’t take that. He lives in a bubble, and to him the world is a magical place. He’s on his computer all day playing games and living in a fantasy. He has tons of friends on social media, but his access is blocked to anything that would hurt him.”
His scrubbed his hands down his face. “He and I agreed to use a code name when referring to me. We don’t need the publicity. The media is an evil monster, one Wenton can’t slay. He can’t take it. Specifically, his heart can’t take it. I hope you understand. He’s never met anyone in my world. I figured since you are mostly outside of it at the moment, we’re safe. You’re an incredible woman, Caitlyn. I knew you would love him. So, I’m just asking that you love him enough to keep him safe.”
“Of course.” He seemed so earnest that I leaned over and hugged him. It felt like the right thing to do. “I never thought of it that way.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “Thanks.” His eyes held mine for a beat.
We both stayed there, suspended in time. I could feel him grappling with himself. He wanted to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him too. God, it was like all I wanted. As if we were pulled together by some unseen string, we leaned toward each other. Then he softly kissed my forehead. I smiled. This was what I had wanted. Friendship, nothing more. My matter how much my vagina was disagreeing.
“You should get inside. I don’t want your grandma to worry.”
I nodded and opened the door. “Okay.”
“See you Saturday?” he asked, looking hopeful.
“Definitely.” I smiled. “Safe drive home. Get some coffee or something.”
Geesh, I sounded like his mother.
“You bet.”
I was falling for this guy. Despite everything, I was falling harder than should be possible. I got out of the car and watched him pull away. He was a billionaire and a famous movie producer, but to me, he was becoming nothing more than a big brother with a heart of gold. Slowly but surely, I was discovering a man I could love.
I went to Gran’s room as soon as I walked in the door. Athena was there reading something on her tablet.
“How’s she doing?” I asked, fearful that I had spent too much time away.
She smiled up at me. “She’s fine. Sleeping peacefully.”
“Thank you for staying with her.”
I was seriously relieved to have the help. I knew nothing about taking care of someone medically, outside of reminding Gran to take her medicine when I remembered it myself.
“She’s comfortable,” Athena added, “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Do you want me to fix you dinner or anything?” I asked, unsure of what home nurses expected. I felt stupid after asking.
“Someday, that would be nice, but I have to get home to my little girl,” she said kindly.
“How old is she?” I asked, curious.
“Two. She’s with her dad, but he works the night shift at the hospital so it’s my time with our princess. She always wants me to make stuff that looks like a rainbow or a unicorn. She keeps me hoppin’ in the kitchen.”
“She sounds adorable.”
“She is. See you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything at all. Also, all of the emergency numbers are on the fridge.”
“See you tomorrow,” I waved as she left.
I looked down at Gran, who was sleeping tranquilly. I didn’t want to wake her, but I didn’t want to leave her either. All that talk of the scares KP had with Wenton growing up made me think of what I would soon be facing. I didn’t want to say goodbye, and I didn’t want to let her go. I was still a little kid in my mind. I wasn’t ready to grow up and so many new and confusing things were happening to me. I needed her. I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t need her.
Needing her warmth, I slipped into her bed like I had so many times before. It was plenty big enough, even with the IV and breathing stuff that the hospital had sent over, there was still lots of room for me to cuddle next to her.
I shifted in close and just listened to her heartbeat. I whispered quietly and told her about my day. Confessing about my changing feelings for KP, the wretched billionaire, I laughed. I could have sworn I saw her smile before I drifted off to sleep by her side.