Page 48 of Shane
“Can we go now?” I ask, not trying to have an ugly cry in the middle of his friend’s party. This is so unlike me. Avoidance is my coping strategy of choice. I haven’t talked about John with anyone other than my therapist since it happened, and here I am, spilling my guts at the worst time possible.
“Absolutely.”
We stand up, and Shane does something unexpected; he takes my hand and leads me down the stairs. It’s a small gesture that holds tremendous power over me. Even when I was dating John, holding hands wasn’t something we ever did. John wasn’t the romantic type. It feels both possessive and comforting at the same time.
I like it.
And that’s dangerous.
kennedy
The ride hometo Philly is quiet for the first fifteen minutes or so until Shane finally breaks the ice. “You said the other day that you’re splitting your time between two houses as if it’s a new situation.”
“Yeah, my parents.”
“They’re newly divorced, right?”
“Yep.”
“With everything that happened with your ex, that must have been a lot.”
“It was suffocating. I think the worst part about all of this is that John and I had just started our relationship. We weren’t super serious. No one in my family really knew who he was, only a few of my school friends. So when this happened to him, I became a footnote of the story, making it easy for me to slink away and not accept any responsibility, especially because the out-of-court settlement was private.”
“What responsibility? Seriously, Kennedy, you feel guilty about that fight?”
“Completely.”
“Have you been in counseling at all over this?”
“You sound like my mother.”
“It can’t hurt to talk to someone who can help talk you through things. I had one when I was younger.”
“I have a therapist but I guess she sucks at her job. I don’t feel any better than I did when I started.”
I slip off my leather booties and adjust the leather seat of Shane’s silver pickup truck to a reclining position. We’re in a worn-in GMC Sierra this time, which he said he drove all through high school.
“This truck feels way more likeyouthan the BMW you rented back in Vegas. It’s comfy.”
I lift my legs and place my bare feet on the dashboard. He doesn’t seem to mind me making myself comfortable.
“Yeah, you think so?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It was my Dad’s.”
“You don’t talk about him much,” I say, my eyes growing heavy with sleep.
“He died,” Shane says solemnly. “There’s not much to really talk about.”
My eyes flick back open.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
“It happened a long time ago. I was ten. He had melanoma. By the time the doctors caught it, it was too late.”
“So your mom’s been alone for a while.”