Page 37 of Shane

I nod, a surge of anger and confusion washing over me. "We've crossed paths," I say, my words clipped.

Paths.

Plane seats.

Lips.

"That's great!" Dad continues, utterly missing the tempest in my gaze. “That will make Thursday so much easier. They'll be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. I can’t wait to meet him and for you to meet Kate.”

“Dinner?”

“We thought it would be a pressure-free way for us to all get to know each other better, but it helps that you’ve already met Shane. Kate will be so relieved.”

Oh, hell to the no.

“Maybe I should move in with Mom,” I blurt out.

“Wait.” My Dad’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Because I have a girlfriend?”

“Because you’re moving her into this house.”

“But we’ve discussed this, Kennedy. We all agreed that our divorce shouldn’t keep you from living in the home you’ve grown up in your entire life. Where would you sleep at your mother’s?”

“Mom has a second bedroom.”

“That she uses as a home office.”

“I think if her daughter told her that she wanted to live with her, she would make room for me. Plus, I’m at school for more than half the year. It wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Which is exactly why you can remain living here.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you haven’t even met Kate yet,” he protests.

This woman’s vagina must be mighty powerful to have hypnotized my father into making choices he would normally never make.

I don’t recognize this man.

He’s moving at the speed of light and justifying decisions that make no sense at all.

“I just don’t understand why you’re moving this fast.”

The rest of the evening is a blur of fake pleasantries and polite nods. I just can’t talk about Shane and his mom anymore. My father isn’t seeing reason. Inside, I'm boiling, feeling forsaken and replaced. Accepting Dad's new relationship is hard enough, but having my life entwined with Shane's in such an unexpected way is unbearable.

I wonder if he knows about this yet.

kennedy

As I lie in bed,the ceiling offers little comfort, just a blank expanse mirroring my isolation. This house, once my sanctuary, now feels like a cage. The thought of our upcoming Thanksgiving dinner, which should have been a chill occasion, now feels like an impending storm. Caught in a web of emotions, I lie here, trapped, wondering how to find my way out.

I stand up and start pacing back and forth across my trusty Hello Kitty area rug, my mind racing. The thought of sitting across from Shane at Thanksgiving dinner, pretending everything is normal, seems unthinkable. I need to do something, anything, to prevent that from happening.

With a deep breath, I pick up my cell phone and pull up Shane's number, my heart pounding in my chest.

Gah! I can’t call him.

I don’t have the nerve right now.