Seven
Maddox
2018
She looks the same.
Looking at her, that’s all I can think.
Kris looks the same.
Same tall, strong build.
Same curves.
Same sharp green eyes.
Same full, lush mouth.
Same sleek, reddish-brown hair. As straight as a pin, falling past her shoulders.
I always loved her hair. The way it felt like silk, sifting through my fingers.
I don’t know what I expected.
Not this. Not to look at her after ten years and feel like I’ve been sucked into some sort of wormhole. Like I’ve been torn apart and stuck back together all wrong. Like all the parts of me that she touched are exposed. Gapping open. Waiting for her.
It makes me angry that she can still do this to me after all this time. Pissed because I told myself that I was over her. Past her.
And I believed the lie.
Even as I wrote to her every month for over a decade, I believed it. Writing to Kris was like keeping a journal. I could say whatever I wanted because I knew she’s never open it. I could write it all down, every piece of me I never got a chance to share with her, and send it away. Then it would come back to me and I was able to set it aside. Put in a box. Pretend it didn’t exist.
Seeing her now tells me that I’m a big, fat fucking liar.
I’m not over her.
Not even close.
I watch her face change when she realizes who she’s looking at. That it’s me behind the faded flannel shirt and lumberjack beard.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Disbelief.
Panic.
I see it all in the blink an eye.
She drops her cocoa and the cheap styrofoam cup explodes in a spray of thick, dark liquid, whipped cream and marshmallows flying like shrapnel. That’s when I realize she’s not here for me. She had no idea I would be here. That I’m home. Been home for a while now.
I thought that’s what this was. When I saw her grandmother meandering down one of the aisles, I recognized her instantly. Heading over to her, I managed about fifteen seconds of agonizing small talk before I caved and asked her about Kris.
“She’s here somewhere, ask her yourself.” Kris’s grandma gave me a wink. “After you load this tree on top of my car.”
Hearing her voice, I thought she finally opened one of my letters and realized how much she missed me. That she needed me as much as I miss and need her. I thought she came here to find me. Her reaction to seeing me tells me something else entirely.
“Heya, Kriskross. Long time, no see.” I push a smile onto my face because my mom is standing next to her and her grandmother is watching.
“Uh—” She stares at me for a second before tearing her gaze away to look at my mom, green eyes still yanked wide by the sight of me. “I’m sorry.” She drops to her knees, shaking her head. “I made a mess…” She starts scooping muddy marshmallow goop back into her broken cup with her bare hands. “I just—I—”
“Didn’t know I’d be here,” I say, giving her grandmother a pointed look. All she does is smile. “Never would have come if you’d known I would be.” The woman is shameless. Completely unrepentant over ambushing her only granddaughter. When I aim my gaze over her head, I find Kris glaring up at me from her knees.
As soon as our eyes connect, she flushes and looks away. Scrambling to her feet, she claps her hand over the bottom of her broken cup to stop shit from oozing out. “Garbage can?” She says it to my mom who gives me a confused look before pointing her in the direction of the nearest trash can.
As soon as she’s gone, I drop my gaze to the old woman standing next to me. “That was low, Nan. You just let me—”
She reaches up, holding her gloved hand in front of my face. “I never said she knew you were here.” She shrugs and drops her hand. “I never told you that. You assumed.”
No I hadn’t assumed.
I’d hoped.
“How did you know?” I let my gaze stray away from her. Let it find Kris. She’s standing over the trash can, wiping her hands clean with a wad of napkins. “If she didn’t bring you here then how did you know I was home?”
Nan shrugs again and tucks her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Who says I did?”
Stubborn old woman.
She must be psychic because she cackles up at me. “Are you gonna just stand here, giving an old woman the third degree, or are you going over there to talk to her?”
Talk to her?
I don’t want to talk to her.
There are a lot of things I want to do to Kristmas Cavanagh but none of them involve conversation.
Motioning another lot attendant over, I pawn Nan off on him, instructing him to wrap up the tree and secure it to the top of her car before making my way toward Kris.