(Now) Kinsley: My Family is Crazy

"Mmm, that feels good," I said, dropping my head onto Damien's chest.  His thumb was stroking up and down the length of my spine and I relaxed against him.  When it came back up, it pressed into the base of my neck and rubbed the tight muscle there.  After a minute, he slipped out from under me and sat up.  "Where are you going?" I asked, starting to sit up.

"Nowhere," he replied.  He tapped lightly on my shoulder.  "Lay back down."  I did, and he began massaging my back.  I sighed happily, enjoying his touch.

"Keep doing that and you could talk me into just about anything," I said.

"Hmmm, in that case..." Damien said teasingly.  I laughed.  Several seconds later, he said, "Actually, I might need to talk you into something."

I tried to turn my head to look back at him but he gently turned it back and kept working on my tight muscles.  "What?" I asked warily.

"My sister's grad school graduation is next weekend," he explained.  "I know we've been seeing quite a bit of my family lately, but will you go with me?  My mom is throwing this fancy dinner party afterwards."  I was glad he couldn't see the face I made at the mention of his sister.  Adrienne was actually his stepsister, and was the baby of the family.  She was a whiny, spoiled snot.  Everyone else in the family, including Damien, seemed to be completely oblivious to that fact, which made it worse.

"Of course I'll go with you," I responded, even though the idea of an entire day dedicated to his sister made me want to vomit.  We had been seeing a lot of his family lately.  Family was really important to him, which I respected completely, but I could do just fine with a little less family time.  But I really liked his parents, and things were going so well.  I was scared to rock the boat by declining any of his family time invitations, even though he always gave me the option to not join him.

He finished rubbing my back a few minutes later and laid back down next to me.  By this point, I was completely ready to sleep and I rolled onto my side and snuggled against him.  He chuckled.  "It wasn't long ago that you were anti-cuddling and anti-spending the night.  Now look at you, you're like a whole new person."

"I'm a changed woman," I joked.  "Now I have morals and values and shit."

He burst out laughing at that.  "Okay, maybe not a whole new person."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way, right?"

"Definitely not," he agreed.

We settled down and I rolled out of his embrace and fell asleep quickly.  He was right, it was amazing how completely comfortable I was with him now.  I still wasn't a snuggly sleeper; I needed my space for that.  But I loved cuddling right up until I was about to fall asleep.

I woke up early the next morning to his phone ringing.  I could sympathize with Liv--Damien needed to be accessible at all times, pretty much.  His phone didn't interrupt us nearly as often as Brody's did, but when it did, it was always bad news and he was always tied up for days, if not longer.  I felt the mattress move as he rolled to the edge of the bed and answered groggily.  He spoke briefly: one word responses to the person on the other end, then hung up without saying goodbye.  His gruff, short detective persona was something I was glad he didn't bring home with him.

He rolled back over to me and wrapped an arm around me before nestling his head into the crook of my neck.  "I have to go, baby," he said softly.

"I know," I replied, my voice hoarse from sleep.  He kissed my cheek and rolled out of bed.

Once up, he quickly pulled on his clothes while I double checked my alarm to make sure it was going off when I needed it to.  I watched Damien walk into the bathroom.  He came out a few minutes later and sat on the edge of the bed.  I could smell the minty toothpaste on his breath as he kissed me.  "I'll call you."  I nodded sleepily, then listened to him slip down the stairs and out the door.  I rolled over and fell back asleep.

I had dinner with Liv and Lauren that evening and vented about Damien's sister.  It felt good to get it off my chest, because I knew I could never say any of those things to Damien.  It was his sister.

Damien called me late that evening to tell me they would hopefully wrap things up tomorrow afternoon and asked if I wanted to have dinner with him tomorrow evening.  I said yes without hesitation, then marveled at myself.  We'd spent more nights together than apart at this point.  I still had some moments of panic where I struggled to be open, and found myself not telling him things that I should tell him, or wanted to tell him, but it kept getting better.  I'd dated older guys in the past, and they loved to lord their age over me as if they were so wise to the ways of the world, but Damien was patient with me in way that was so far from condescending that I sometimes didn't believe it was real.

On Tuesday, Damien insisted on picking me up for dinner.  I changed into a dress after work, and put on a lacy bra and underwear set, because it had been a few weeks since I'd made an extra effort to look nice for him.  He always appreciated it and never expected it, so it was fun to do it sometimes.  Way more fun than when putting on lingerie was a chore because it was expected or demanded.

I was upstairs touching up my makeup when my doorbell rang.  Damien was always on time (or early, ugh) and I was always late.  I gave up making excuses for it long ago; I just can't get to the places I need to be on time.  People just expect it of me at this point.  Every once in awhile I'm on time, but it seems like those are always the times that other people are late.

"Hi, I'm sorry, I suck," I said hurriedly, finally answering the door after leaving poor Damien standing out there for probably close to two minutes.

He smiled.  "It was worth the wait, you look amazing," he said.  I probably could have let him stand out there for 15 minutes and he wouldn't have batted an eye.  We left and he drove us to the restaurant we'd chosen, which was packed.  But of course, because he thinks about these things, he'd made a reservation and we were fine.  I never would have thought of that.

Over appetizers, he said, "So I was thinking since we've been spending so much time with my family, maybe we should do something with your family soon."

I shrugged noncommittally.  I didn't want to spend time with my family.  My parents got divorced two years ago, and my dad was engaged now--to the woman he was probably cheating on my mom with.  My mom's mental health was already pretty fragile, and after the divorce she had been out driving one night when she shouldn't have been (she wasn't drinking or anything, but she had taken her anxiety meds, and I think she had taken maybe a few too many) and wrecked her car.  Her moods came and went, and I never knew what kind of mood she'd be in.  I'd seen her as much as I could until about a year ago when she lost it and screamed at me, blaming me for the divorce, for her accident, and for all the bad things that had happened to her since.  After that day, we'd both just pretended it hadn't happened, and I spaced out my visits more and more until I was only really seeing her on Christmas and her birthday.  Go ahead and judge me, but I think we're both better off this way.

So I'd taken Damien to my dad and his fiancee's house for dinner once to meet them, and I'd taken him and my mom out for dinner once, and that was enough for me.  I hadn't told him much about them.  He'd asked, but when I gave a little information and changed the subject, he hadn't pried.

"Mother's Day is on Sunday," he continued.  "We could take her out for brunch or something."

"Don't you want to see your mom on Mother's Day?" I asked brightly.

He gave me a funny look.  "We'll see her the day before.  She'll be fine for one Mother's Day without me, if you want to see your mom.  I mean, if you'd rather just do something with just her, that's fine too.  I'll understand.  Just tell me what you want to do."

To my horror, I felt my eyes start to fill with tears.  I looked down at my plate and swallowed hard around the hard lump in my throat and shook my head.

"Kinsley?" he said, and the concern in his voice was enough to push me over the edge.

I stood up from the table abruptly, choked out, "I'll be right back," and booked it to the bathroom.  Once there, I stared at myself in the mirror for a solid half minute before I even realized my mascara was smeared a little under one eye.  I carefully wiped it away and took several deep breaths before I walked back to the table.

Damien looked up, worried, as I sat back down.  "Are you alright?" he asked softly.  I nodded.  Our food had appeared while I was gone, and I picked up my fork, eager to move past this part of the conversation.  "Kinsley," Damien said.  I looked up at him.  "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" I snapped, much louder than I had planned.  A person at the table next to us looked over in alarm.  "Sorry," I said to her, my cheeks getting hot.  Then I turned back to Damien.  "I'm sorry.  That was...Can we just eat?  And go?  I promise I'll tell you about when we leave."  I regretted that promise instantly, but I needed to get him off my back so I could eat my meal without dripping tears and snot all over it.

"Of course," he replied.  "Do you want to take the food to go?  We can ask them to box it up if you want."

I shook my head.  I wanted to put off real conversation for as long as possible so I could get my shit together.  "I'm fine," I insisted.  I even smiled to prove it.  The look on Damien's face said he saw right through me, but he let it go, as he always did.

I ate slowly, way slower than usual.  I couldn't put it off any longer though, and took my last bite.  I had hoped our server would get lost and not come to bring the bill for awhile, but she appeared as soon as I set my fork down.  "Can I get you anything else?" she asked cheerfully.  I considered asking for dessert, but I didn't think I could eat another bite.  I shook my head and Damien requested the bill.  She produced it immediately.  Why are they never that prepared when you're in a hurry?

Damien allowed me sulk in my silence all the way to the car.  Then, he said, "My house or yours?  Or...what do you want to do?"

"Mine?" I asked.  My house was closer to both our jobs, and it worked better for weekday overnights.  If he still wanted to spend the night with me, that was.  I suddenly felt awfully foolish in my dress and my lacy underwear under it.

When we got to my house, Damien sat down on the couch and watched me as I sat, then stood and fidgeted with something, then sat again.  "Kins, will you tell me what that was all about?" he asked, finally.  His voice was gentle but I could see the frustration in his face.

"I don't want to see my mom on Mother's Day," I blurted out.  I stood again.  Why was it so hard to just tell him things?

"But it's Mother's Day," he responded, clearly confused.  I stared at him.  He was not ever, ever in a million years going to understand this.  Family was everything to him.  My own anxiety and frustration built and I felt myself teetering on the brink of irrationality.

"Not everyone likes their family as much as you do," I managed.

"Well, that's true," he acknowledged calmly.

I decided to sit again, but instead of sitting on the couch, I sat on the floor and leaned against it.  "My family, unlike yours, is crazy.  And I prefer to just...let them be crazy without me."

"That's fair," he said.

"Argh, you're infuriating!" I snapped.  He continued to level the same calm gaze at me.  "I hate how you're so calm all the time!"

"Because...?"

I huffed out a frustrated breath.  "Because you're always calm no matter what.  Always.  And so when I'm not calm, I feel like a crazy person, because you're all 'this is no big deal' and I'm all 'this is the worst thing ever'!"

He stood, and my heart sank.  I was pretty sure I'd pushed too far, and he was leaving.  I was surprised when he came over and sat next to me on the floor.  "I act extra calm--infuriatingly calm, apparently--when I'm not sure what the best response is.  Generally because I'm not sure how to read the person I'm talking to, or I'm worried about upsetting them.  I've had years of training in deescalating people, and talking to them, and asking them questions, and you are one of the hardest people to read and react to that I've ever encountered.  Hold on, don't look at me like that.  That's not a bad thing, necessarily.  It is frustrating sometimes, especially when I know there's more but you're not telling me.  But I'm nervous to push most of the time, because I've worked so hard to earn the trust I do have."

"You think I don't trust you?" I asked, shocked.

He shrugged.  "I don't know, I guess.  It's hard to tell.  Most of the time I think...no, I know that you do.  I mean, hell, you've spent so many nights with me that I lost track a long time ago.  You told me that that was the most vulnerable you could ever be.  But then there are things that you are clearly not telling me, and I wonder a little.  Like tonight.  I wish you'd just tell me why you got so upset at dinner.  I didn't mean to upset you, but I don't even know what I said or did."

"Oh," I said quietly.  "I had no idea you thought that maybe I didn't trust you.  I do.  I just...there are some things that I don't know how to explain, and I worry that you won't understand, and you'll think I'm...." I trailed off.

"Crazy?" he supplied wryly.  I nodded.  "I deal with crazy every day.  If I thought you were even close, we wouldn't be here right now.  There are many things that I think you are.  Crazy is not one of them."

I smiled a little.  "What things do you think I am?"

"Smart," he said immediately.  "Beautiful.  Headstrong.  Willful and stubborn.  Untrusting.  Funny.  Opinionated.  Hard to read.  Caring and compassionate--"

"Okay," I said, laughing.  "Got it."

"You sure?  Because I can keep going."

"No, I'm good.  You're running out of positive things and I don't want to hear the negative ones," I joked.

He smiled and slid an arm around my shoulders.  I leaned against him.  "Tell me about your mom, Kinsley."

So I did.  I told him all the sordid details of my family.  Well, not really.  But I gave him a few of the tamer tidbits and some general information.  He listened silently, squeezing my shoulders occasionally.  "Well," he said when I finished.  "I can see why you have a hard time sharing that with people, and why you don't spend much time with your family.  I don't know if I would either."

I sagged against him, and a few relieved tears escaped my eyes.  He pushed me gently away when he heard me sniffle and looked at me with worry clear on his face.  "I've never seen you cry before, and now I've made you cry twice in the last hour," he said, frowning.

"I'm not crying," I protested.

He raised one eyebrow, then he brushed his thumb over my cheek and held it up.  "Then explain the liquid on my thumb," he prompted, before he wiped it on the tip of my nose with a half smile.

I scrubbed at my cheeks with the heels of my hands.  "I'm just relieved.  It actually feels really good to tell someone, and you didn't walk out or call me crazy.  I've never told anyone that shit."

"I feel so lucky," he said, chuckling.  "I'm not really the walking out type, you know.  I don't like to just leave things up in the air.  I'd rather stay and sort it out--or fight it out, if that's the case--than walk away, even just to take a break, and risk someone not coming back.  That's maybe not a good thing all the time either, but at least you know now."

I nodded and we sat in silence for close to a minute before I yawned.  It wasn't even late, but I had apparently exhausted myself talking about my family.  "Are you spending the night, or going home?" I asked Damien.

"I thought I'd spend the night if that's alright," he replied.

"As long as you don't make me talk about my family anymore," I said with a laugh.

He shook his head, smiling as he stood and pulled me to my feet.  "I'll try to refrain.  And hey, as long as we're being honest, I know you don't like my sister."  I looked at him in horror, but he was still smiling.  "What, do you think you're the first?"

"Well, I mean, I thought maybe it was just me...Everyone else seems to think she's..." I stuttered, trailing off nervously.

"She's a total diva.  I know.  I love her, but I don't expect you to.  We don't have to stay for the whole day on Saturday, if you don't want to."

"Can we play it by ear?" I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

He nodded.  "Sounds good.  We can come up with a signal."  He made a weird face and stuck his finger in his ear.  "Like that?"

"You look like a moron," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Oh good, you should have no problem pulling it off then," he replied, then ducked immediately as I chucked a throw pillow at him.    I ran at him and he ducked around the couch.  "Gonna chase me in that short little dress?" he teased  "At least you took those heels off."

"Too bad," I replied, faking to my left and sprinting to my right.  "They make good projectiles."

Damien pretended to run from me then spun around so I ran right into him.  "I don't think you'll be throwing anything else tonight," he said with a laugh as he wrapped his arms around me, pinning me helplessly against his chest.  We were both out of breath from our pathetically short sprint around my living room, and we collapsed onto the couch.

"And I thought I was crazy," I muttered.  "Turns out you're just as bad."

"Then we make a good pair, don't we?" he asked, tugging me closer to him.

"I guess we do," I replied.