Kennedy
“What’s the plans for today?” I set a plate full of toaster waffles in front of Ben, and he scowls.
It’s been three days of technicians, locksmiths, and countless phone calls to the district attorney and Mr. Black’s parole officer. All of us have a common goal. Keep Graham’s father in Tennessee, and as far away from us as possible.
“What is this?” Ben’s nose turns up towards the lights.
“I got you, Little Man.” Rico waltzes past, picking up the plate and tossing the contents into the trash.
Our permanent house guest has spoiled Ben. After our first wedding, we’d insisted Rico stay. Having him move wouldn’t be right. Rico is as much a part of this family as anyone else, and with him almost finished with school, it makes sense for him to continue living in the guest house above the garage.
“Hey, don’t throw those away.” I smack Rico on the shoulder, chastising him like he’s my own child. Hell, at this point, he might as well be.
“You can’t feed a growing boy frozen waffles, Ken. How is he supposed to grow strong like his Uncle Rico?” Rico flexes his biceps, and Ben eats his crap right up.
“Yeah, Mom. I need to be strong like Uncle Rico.”
There are worse people for our son to look up to. I don’t make a fuss about the strange bro-like banter between them. Rico has matured quite a bit in the past six months. Maybe Ben’s presence in the house is the reason, or it could be something else entirely. Whatever it is, I’m grateful for the shift. I’ve always loved Rico, but he’s starting to become the man I’ve always believed he is. He’s a safe place for me.
“Strong like your dad,” I counter, winking at Rico.
“Strong like both of them.” Always the pleaser, Ben hates to think he’s making Graham upset by his admiration of Rico.
I sit on the stool, observing a master at work. One benefit of having Rico shacked up in our guest house is the full access to his cooking. He’s a business major, something I know he despises. He plays baseball for Connecticut, but once school is done, he knows his athletic career will be finished. Rico himself has admitted to not having the heart for the long haul. He never has, claiming baseball started out as a way to bag the ladies. His words, not mine.
With a platter full of food between Ben and me, we slide our choices onto our plates to stuff our faces, without waiting for Graham. Ben chooses Belgium waffles, while I dig into the pancakes.
“Mmmm.” I groan with satisfaction the second I swallow my first bite. “You’ve outdone yourself, my friend.” I hold up my fork in thank you.
“No one thought to call for me?” Graham kisses Ben and me as he passes into the kitchen.
“No sugar for me?” Rico jokes, puckering his lips.
Graham’s typical breakfast burrito is handed to him. He opens the fridge to splash a decent helping of hot sauce over the egg mixture. How he eats it in three big bites is beyond me. How he keeps his body tight and toned is a miracle in and of itself.
The white dress shirt is tight across his chest. It’s rolled at the sleeves and paired with nice navy slacks and the brown belt I bought him last Christmas. I lean over, nearly falling off my chair, and smirk at his dress shoes that match the belt.
“Today’s the big day, huh?” I ask. Nervous energy circles the kitchen.
“It’s really happening, and I’m sort of loathing the whole experience right now,” he admits, strumming his fingers on the marble.
I jump from my stool, wrap my arms around his waist, and listen to his breaths. They even with my touch, and as always, I’m thankful for being the person to bring the calm into his life.
“Quit with the nonsense.” I peer up at him, taking in the subtle way his jaw ticks when he’s frustrated, and the way his eyes are a million miles away.
Between all the craziness going on, Graham missed his phone call. The phone call, the one that he’s been working for his whole entire life. He’s moving up from the farm system to play on those big fields covered in the pristine green grass he’s been dreaming about since he was a small boy.
Graham’s first season in the Minor League has been a whirlwind experience. We’ve traveled as much as we could. Being apart is something we need to get used to, though, because, at some point, travel will be impossible for Ben and me. Going to fewer games is one way we’ve prepared ourselves for this.
“If they didn’t believe in you, you wouldn’t have gotten the call. You’re going to do amazing, Baby.” I’m in awe of him. He’s a husband, father, and an athlete, and every last one gets his full attention.
“Thanks, Ken.” He bends down and ruffles Ben’s hair. “You be good for Uncle Rico, you hear me?” He gives Ben a pointed stare.
“Of course.” Ben and Rico fist bump before continuing to scarf down their breakfast.
“And you.” Graham kisses me far too quickly than I’ll ever be ready for. “Have fun with Violet, drive safe, and text me when you get to the city, so I’ll know you got there okay.”
“Where’s your meeting at?” I ask.
“Some fancy steakhouse. Frank set it up,” Graham explains, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. Replacing his fingers with mine, I button the second to the top and flatten his seams with my palms.
Frank is Graham’s agent, and like most people, he’s managed to become a part of our family in a short amount of time. He’s fought right beside Graham to this point, opening doors for him in every possible way. A good agent is hard to come by, and Graham will never give Frank up. He’s a sweet, middle-aged man with graying hair and a strong heart for the game. He once played in the Minors, claiming he didn’t have the skill to elevate his position.
“Tell Frank hello for me, will you?” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him one last time before I need to leave. “And Ben, you stay within five feet of your uncle at all times.”
“Mom, how’s he supposed to pitch to me then?” Ben’s voice sounds like honey, smooth and sweet. “She’s kidding, right?”
“Well, it is your mother, so my first guess is no, she’s not.” Rico smirks over Ben’s head and nods. “We’ll be okay. I promise you.”
I kiss them both on the cheek before leaving the kitchen.
After a quick shower, I jump behind the wheel and head towards the city. The drive is second nature. I’ve almost done it in my sleep when Graham and I were commuting back and forth to see each other.
This time of year is gorgeous, and one of my favorite to make the trek. The flowers are in full bloom, sprouted with vibrant colors. If I roll down the window, there will be a distinct smell of fresh rain. It’s the end of summer.
Traffic is light until I make it into the city, where the hustle and bustle of the morning is in full swing. Pedestrians cross the streets, barely caring a car is inches from clipping their heels. It’s New York City. Fast paced. Loud. Something I don’t miss. The people in this city, well, that’s a whole different story.
Richard is at the valet stand, a smile directed at me. His hair is whiter, proving the seasons have changed a handful of times since I’ve lived in the building.
“Kennedy,” he greets when I slip from behind the wheel. His voice is full of animation and excitement. He circles the front of the car, and I melt into his tight fatherly hug. “How are you? Mr. Black treating you right?”
“Always the worrier. I don’t live here anymore, Richard,” I say.
“That doesn’t stop my worries. Everything good?” he asks.
I don’t know if it’s his demeanor, or the softness in his voice, but I crack right down the middle, catching him off guard. He’s quick to swoop in and try to calm me.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?” His pocket square appears in my hand, and I dry my tears.
“Do you ever feel like the walls are closing in on you?” I say, staring down the sidewalk in front of the building. “Like the entire world is playing a joke on you because this can’t possibly be your life. We’ve been through enough. We’ve had trauma and loss. We don’t deserve this life we’re being dealt.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm the anxiety attack rushing through to the surface.
“Your peace will come, Kennedy Black. One of these days, you’ll take a deep breath and know the world is on your side.”
“And until then?”
“Buckle up. Hold on tight to those who love you, because in them, you’ll find the peace you’re desperate for. Watch your son play in the yard. Kiss Graham for no reason. Tell someone you love, you love them. It will make the tragedy seem a little less frightening.”
When I offer the pocket square to Richard, he folds it in my grasp and smiles, knowing I need it more than him.
“Thank you.” The words catch in my throat.
“My pleasure, Mrs. Black.” He winks and takes my keys to park my car.
I head into the building I call home, even though I don’t live here anymore. I’ve ridden this elevator tired and broken, drunk and excited. I’ve had arguments on this elevator and kisses. As it ascends to the top floor, my stomach begins to twist.
The second the elevator doors open, the apartment door swings open. Loud squeals echo through the entryway, and my two best friends jump up and down with excitement. At the sight of them, I break.
Violet’s face goes slack. “What’s going on?”
“Why are you back so early?” Amanda adds, ushering me into the apartment.
I walk straight to the kitchen, grab a wine glass, and pour myself a pretty helping of the bottle of Moscato in the fridge. What I’ve been holding onto comes rushing out of me like rapids on a river, fast and uncontrollable.
“Graham’s dad, he’s being released,” I say, guzzling the bubbly liquid.
Violet scoots into the kitchen, grabs two glasses and two bottles of wine, and pushes me to the living room. “We’re going to need this,” she says, filling each glass with an overpour of wine, and offers one to Amanda.
“What does this mean?” Amanda takes a long pull, and I know she’s aware of it, too. My tragic sense of insecurity. Violet and she may not have lived those moments with us, but they’re a part of this family, and they were frightened alongside us.
“It means money has rank over security. It means my husband’s world is being flipped upside down. Even if he’s trying to play it cool. I know him.”
“What about you?” Violet asks. “How are you?” Her hand softly rubs my back.
“I’m scared.” I shudder. Violet grips my hands, squeezing them to silently tell me she has me.
“You don’t think he’d try to contact Graham, do you?” Amanda rests back on the couch, a million questions on her face.
“I’d like to say no because he’d damage his life more than it already is, but apparently he’s going to be living back in Tennessee,” I explain, tucking the throw blanket over my legs and cuddling into the couch.
“Everything will be okay, Ken,” Violet says, patting my leg.
“Okay, enough of this.” I finish my glass of wine. “What are we going to do today? I need a good distraction.”
“Where’s Ben?” Violet asks.
“Rick took him for the day. They’re hitting the batting cages and having a guy’s day,” I say.
Amanda scoffs, and Violet and I twist to face her with matching expressions. I don’t know what’s happening between the two of them, but it’s on one minute and then off the next.
“Are you two finally going to admit you have something? Or are we supposed to pretend you two are just fucking for the fun of it?” Violet says.
“Rico and I...” She tilts her head side to side, contemplating what lame ass thing she plans to feed us. “Rico and I will never be anything more than what we are.”
“It’s been two years of this shit, you know that, right?” I say, trying not to sound too harsh.
“Seriously?” Amanda’s surprise shocks me. How is she not aware of the timeline?
“You two watch each other from across the room when you think the other isn’t paying attention. Care to explain that?” Violet goads.
“Or why some mornings your car is parked in our driveway, but you never come inside to say hi?” I add to the obvious situation.
Amanda stands, gently places her wine glass on the coffee table, and leaves the room. Once we are alone, Violet and I fall into a fit of laughter. There is nothing funnier than pissing off Amanda.
“When are they going to get their shit together?” Violet asks.
“If I remember correctly, our friends have said the same thing about you and Dan.” I nudge her with my foot.
“And a handful of times with you and Graham.”
“Touché.” I smile.
My best friend, my confidant, smiles proudly at me from the other end of the couch. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Sometimes being in her presence is enough to turn my mood around. She’s contagious and charismatic to the point she brings hope to a troubled room.
“You look happy, Mrs. Black.” She rests her head on the cushion. Her gaze is enchanting, taking me in.
“I am, all things considered.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” I question, unsure of what she means.
Violet shakes her head, slowly, worrying her brow. “Everything you’ve been through, Ken. I don’t know where you find the strength.”
“You’d be surprised where you find your strength when you need it most.” I scoot down the sofa to her side and grab her hand. “Now, please give me a good distraction. How’s the wedding planning going?”
At the mention of the wedding, she springs off the couch and runs into her room. A second later, a white three-ring binder plops on my lap. I flip open the front cover and grin.
“This is everything?” I ask.
“Every single detail, down to the linens on the table.”
“You’re insane, you know that, right? You’ve been engaged, for what, fifteen minutes, and you already have all this mapped out.”
“Well, not all of it.” Violet jerks the folder onto her lap, running her fingers over a lace sample. “I need to do the seating chart and pick out my dress.”
“The dress!” I cover my mouth with my hands, and the familiar sting of happy tears hits my eyes. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride, Violet.”
“Don’t lie to her. She’s going to be a pain in our asses.” Amanda enters the room with an envelope gripped tightly between her fingers and tosses it onto my lap.
“What’s this?” I open the back flap and a folded note falls out when I tip the envelope.
“This is why Rico and I...” She shakes her head, sitting on the arm of the chair across from Violet and me. Her eyes droop. If she cries, I’m going to be a goner. I’ve never seen her break down. She’s Amanda, for Christ’s sake, the strongest of us all.
Unfolding the paper, I begin to read. The handwriting is sloppy and clearly belongs to Rico. I gaze up at Amanda. With her face scrunched up with worry, she urges me to continue. Once I finish, I toss it to Violet.
“I thought you and Will were done?” Violet asks, looking up from the letter.
“Amanda,” I bark. “Please tell me you and Will are done.”
“I don’t know what we are. That’s sort of the problem. Will’s not good for me.” She looks at me apologetically. “Sorry, Ken, but he’s not.”
“Not everyone is meant to last a lifetime,” I say.
“But Rico doesn’t understand that. He may be hard and chiseled on the outside, but inside, he’s basically goo. He’s not quick to forgive, and I’ve done some unforgivable things,” Amanda explains.
“He seems heartbroken in this letter.” Violet clutches the paper to her chest.
“I never meant to hurt him,” Amanda admits.
The thing about Rico is he doesn’t allow a lot of people in. His upbringing is to blame for that. His parents shuffled him off to private school where he never truly found his place. He never felt like he belonged until he found a home with us.
“Do you love him?” I ask.
“He’s loveable.” Every emotion she has flutters across her face. She’s so obvious, it’s painful.
“Okay, then.” I stand from the couch, ending the conversation, because that’s everything we need to know. “Now, who’s going to feed me? Because I’m starving.”
We have a quick lunch at a small bistro. The air is warm, and my skin welcomes the sunshine. As we are walking down the street, chatting and laughing about some nonsense like usual, Amanda and I look around, searching for Violet.
“Where’d she go?” I ask, scanning the street for any sign of her fire red hair.
“What’s she looking at?” Amanda’s eyebrows scrunch together, nearly becoming one on her face.
I follow Amanda’s finger pointed down the road until my gaze lands on my best friend. Even from fifty feet away, her smile shines like the sun along the horizon.
“What are you looking at?” I ask once I’m beside her, staring at her profile.
She lifts her hand to the shop window. The three of us sigh in unison as if we are one brain. We all see the same thing. The ivory lace, sweetheart neckline, and perfect silhouette shouts Violet. Elegant and edgy. Daring.
“Is that it?” I whisper. Violet’s excitement is practically rolling off her.
“I think this may be it,” she whispers, her voice strained, resistant of showing the full spectrum of feelings coursing through her.
I hold the door open for them, and the bell above rings loud, alerting anyone nearby someone has entered. An older lady comes out from behind the curtain. Her tender smile greets us.
“May I help you young ladies?” she asks, inspecting us.
“That dress in the window...” Amanda starts to say.
“Ahh, I knew it wouldn’t last long if it was on display.” Her smile widens, and she scurries past us in a hurry. When she doesn’t say anything, we take her silent cue and follow behind her.
“It’s perfect,” Violet says.
“Well, it should be.” She chortles. “It’s a vintage Oscar De La Renta.”
“What?” Violet takes in a lungful of air, holding it in and releasing it when she brushes her fingers along the lace detail. “Where did it come from? Who would have parted with this?”
It’s when she says this, I realize we are in a thrift store, surrounded by racks of old clothes, gently worn and in desperate need of new homes.
“I did,” the little old lady explains.
Violet twists to face her, mouth wide enough for a flock of birds to land safely on her tongue. “This was yours?”
“I married the love of my life in that dress. We had fifty-two years together, and every day he made me feel as beautiful as I did in this dress.” She wanders off into her memory, leaving us behind. I imagine a film reel of fifty plus years runs through her mind, reminding her of the day she wore this dress and promised her undying love.
“Why would you want to part with it?” Violet’s eyebrows pinch together.
“It sat, fully preserved in a box on my closet shelf for years. Do you know how scarce closet space is in the city of New York? But I held onto as if it were my Arthur because I loved that ornery old man so damn much.” She smiles, while staring off into the air around us. With a shake of her head, she comes back to us, waving off Violet’s uncertainty of taking the dress. “I figured if the dress brought me those wonderful years, maybe it could cast some luck on another couple, and they could live a life full of love like Arthur gave me.”
Violet covers her face, and a cry screams from her chest. Her back heaves, and I catch her as she barrels over.
I shift in front of her to be eye to eye, rubbing her back. “You okay, Baby Girl?”
My heart hurts in the best way possible when she looks up with tear-soaked cheeks. “I just love him so much, and I can’t believe I almost lost him. This dress...” She stares at the vintage material. “It makes it seem so real. I’m marrying Dan, dammit, and he puts up with my shit. I’m a crazy person, and this man is willing to legally bind himself to me for a lifetime.”
After her rant, Amanda and I start to uncontrollably giggle. The shop owner follows suit, forcing Violet to join.
“Violet, you and Dan are about as destined as Kennedy and Graham. There was never any doubt that you two would be taking the walk down the aisle,” Amanda says.
“Really?” Violet whines. They went through so much to find each other again. I sometimes forget she and I have that in common.
“Yes, really, now stand up.” I tug Violet to her feet.
The little shop owner carefully unhooks the trail of buttons along the back of the dress.
“I don’t even know if it will fit,” Violet begs, attempting to stop her from removing the dress from the mannequin.
“Oh, it will fit. That’s what a good seamstress is for.”
“Ma’am, with all due respect, this is a vintage Oscar. I can’t just take it to any seamstress on the corner,” Violet argues.
“Not just any seamstress, but the best seamstress.” She winks at us. “Me.”
“You’re a seamstress?” Amanda questions.
“I’m the seamstress who helped create this dress.”
“You worked for Oscar De La Renta?” Violet asks as the older lady steps down, the dress delicately draped over her arm.
“For many years. When Arthur and I got engaged, Oscar offered to design my wedding dress.”
“But you had to make it yourself.”
“I chose to make it myself.” She flips the skirt hem and stitched inside in blue thread is My love runs deeper than my bones. “I wanted to guarantee every bead and piece of delicate lace had been carefully chosen and made to last. I’m a damn good seamstress. So, take the dress, and if it doesn’t fit you, even though I know it will like a second skin, bring it back to me, and I will fix what needs be fixed.”
The three of us stand in front of her slack jawed, shocked, and in awe. We follow her to the desk where she gracefully folds the fabric into a white box, tying it together with a blush silk ribbon.
“How much do I owe you? The price doesn’t matter,” Violet clarifies, hell-bent on walking out those doors with this dress.
“You owe me nothing.” The lady’s eyes glisten with tears. “You owe yourself a lifetime of happiness, endless love, and incredible sex. Take the dress and live your life full of endless love.” She cups Violet’s cheeks. “Only a beauty like you can do a dress like this justice.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Tears stream down Violet’s cheeks, and she buzzes with happiness. If we lean in, just a little, we may be able to hear her heart beating for Dan and this dress.
“Say thank you and be on your way.” She smiles, tucking away her ribbon in a box below the register.
“What’s your name?” Violet asks before we head back into the heat of summer.
“Penelope,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Violet nods, thanking her for making her dream a reality.
Everyone’s always told me you’d know when you found your dress. The vintage Oscar De La Renta is my best friend’s dream. She’ll walk down the aisle to Dan and become a family. Even in all the chaos, where I could curl up into a ball and seclude myself from the world, I’ve never been happier to push my own shit to the side and give my full attention to my best friend.