(Now) Damien: Selfish

I didn't expect her to just leave.  You probably think that's stupid, and you're right.  Wild, impulsive Kinsley, who had refused to attach herself to anyone for her entire life...why wouldn't she just leave?  And that's where I fucked up.

I mean, not that moment right there (though, I certainly did screw that up too).  What I mean is that I fucked up by generally being complacent, confident that I finally got through Kinsley's walls and was in.  Apparently I hadn't, because she couldn't even tell me that spending so much time with my family was driving her nuts.  And, call me stupid again, but it never occurred to me that she was unhappy with it.  I know she's not family-oriented like I am, but she always seemed to enjoy herself playing with my niece and nephew--especially my niece, who was immediately drawn to Kinsley.  I knew that Adrienne drove her nuts, but Adrienne drives me nuts too.

I didn't stop to think about it, and that was another way I fucked up.  In fact, I suddenly understood why Beth, my ex-fiancée, repeatedly told me I was selfish when we were ending things.  I didn't understand at the time.  I didn't think I was selfish at all.  I was constantly thinking about her and how to make her happy.  But the problem was that I didn't think about what made her unhappy.  I trusted her to tell me what she didn't like, and when she didn't, I foolishly assumed that she wasn't unhappy.

I could see now that I'd made the same mistake with Kinsley--except I didn't even know I was doing it, because it wasn't until after Kinsley revealed how she felt about spending so much time with my family that I realized what Beth had meant.  It had hit me hard, and I couldn't believe that I'd been so stupid--and twice at that.  That's why it took me so long to sit back down to talk to Kinsley again.  I was busy wrestling with my new insight and trying to figure out what to do with it.

I thought we could talk about it, but it was harder than I thought it would be.  I didn't want to go through what I'd gone through with Beth, constantly trying to guess what she wanted because she wouldn't just tell me.  But I wanted to figure things out with Kinsley.  Kinsley wasn't Beth, and I knew things could be different.  But I said the wrong thing one too many times, and out the door she went.

She walked out so easily that I was fairly sure it was over with no chance of me changing her mind.  I'd blown it, and that was all there was to it.  I tried not to imagine what she was doing with herself, though I had a pretty good idea.  I was well aware of Kinsley's past and I knew she avoided her feelings by having sex.  She used sex to explain things, to avoid things, and to make sense of things.  So I knew what she was likely up to, and I was strangely okay with it.  It hurt less to think of her having a bunch of meaningless sex than to think of her snuggling up to someone else fully clothed.  I think that's why I was so hurt and confused when I pulled up to her house after our fight about me not telling my family and saw a strange man leaving.  I knew she wouldn't have sex with him while we were together, so I knew that it meant she had actually been talking to him.  I was so upset that she'd talk to him but not to me.

I really was trying to protect her by not telling my family.  A tiny part of me held out hope that we'd get back together, but even if we didn't, I didn't want to hear what my family had to say about the breakup.  They'd had many less than favorable things to say about Beth after we split, but then again, I could now see every point they made.  I wasn't ready to hear their no-holds-barred analysis of Kinsley, though I'm sure it wouldn't be as bad as Beth.

Even though I didn't tell them, I was sure they knew.  If they didn't know by my stuttered excuses when they questioned me about where she was, they certainly figured it out the night I got drunk at a family dinner.  Getting drunk isn't something that people in my family do.  Except Adrienne, but she's always the exception when it comes to my family.  My father died from complications of cirrhosis of the liver, caused by a lifetime of heavy drinking.  Heavy drinking was just not a thing we did.

But that day, I'd spent an hour putting some of the things Kinsley had left at my house into a box, to maybe give back to her when I could stand even calling her.  It had sucked, and I was already on edge when I arrived.  I grabbed a beer out of the fridge right away, before I even greeted anyone.  After I'd said hello to my mom, she said, "No Kinsley again?  Did we do something to upset her?  If so, you should really tell us because I want to apologize.  I like her."

"No, Mom, you didn't," I said, exasperated.  My poker face was hard to keep up around my family.  At least it had been these past couple weeks.  "She's just been really busy.  She picked up some special projects at work, and her mom has been sick."  The lies just slid right out.  Surprisingly enough, I didn't even feel bad lying to my mom anymore.  The first few times had been hard, but it had gotten easier and easier.

When my 4 year old niece Amelia saw me, she came running over.  She stopped short and frowned when she got close.  "Uncle Damien," she said, an adorable pout on her face, "Where's my Kinsley?"

I scooped her up and rubbed my stubble gently across her cheek, making her giggle.  "Your Kinsley is very busy, sweetheart, and she misses you a lot."

Amelia leaned away and put on her best pouty face, then let out a heavy, dramatic sigh.  "Will you give her something for me?" she asked.

"Of course," I replied, forcing a smile.  Lying to my mom was easy.  Lying to my 4 year old niece was a lot harder.

She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed tightly, then planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek.  "Give her those, okay?  Tell her I miss her."  Then she promptly demanded to be put down and she scampered away, and I was grateful that she couldn't see my face, because I was sure it would have given me away.

"I'd love to," I muttered to myself, taking a long drink of the beer in my hand.

"You'd love to what?" Elize asked, sidling up next to me.  I sighed.  I hadn't seen my older sister approach me and wondered how much she'd seen/heard.

"I'd love to go play with the kids in the yard," I said, grinning at her.  She cocked an eyebrow at my beer and I drained it and tossed the bottle at the recycling container on the deck.  "No beer for the kids, got it," I said.  Elize looked surprised at my sarcasm, but I just turned and jogged down the deck steps and out towards Amelia and my 6 year old nephew Luke.  Luke was pointing a finger gun at the trees and shooting imaginary intruders while Amelia turned crooked somersaults in the grass a few yards away.

"Amelia!" Luke yelled.  "Get out of the way!"

"I'm busy!" she screeched back.  "I'm doing my dimnastics!"  I chuckled.  One of these days she'd get that "g" sound.  Until then, it was pretty cute.

"No you're not!" Luke retorted.  "You're flopping around like a dummy!  That's not gymnastics.  That's being dumb!"  Amelia screwed up her face, looking like she was thinking about whether or not to cry at the insult.

"Hey," I scolded him.  "Be nice to your sister.  She's just learning, which is why she's practicing.  You didn't wake up one morning turning perfect somersaults either."

"Sorry, Amelia," Luke said, rebuked.  "Can I show you?"  The two of them happily rolled around in the grass after that, determined to come up with the most ridiculous "dimnastics" move.  It was all fun until Amelia accidentally kicked Luke in the head and he retaliated by stomping on her foot.  I ended up carrying a wailing Amelia back to the house while a grumbling Luke trailed behind me, insisting that Amelia did it on purpose.

I got ice for both of them (and a beer for myself--unopened until I was done tending to the kids, of course) and waited until they were both calm before I explained that if you accidentally hurt someone, you should apologize, not laugh at them.  And then if someone hurts you, you shouldn't hurt them back if you can avoid it, regardless of if it's an accident or on purpose.  My little lesson finished with, "It doesn't matter whose fault it is, you both hurt each other in the end and neither of you are happy."  They seemed to understand that on a superficial level at least, and they both apologized unprompted, then went back outside when I dismissed them.

My words were echoing in my head and I took a long drink of my beer, thinking about how applicable it was to my life right now.  "You know," someone said, and my head snapped up.  My sister's husband (and Amelia and Luke's dad), Jason, was leaning against the doorway and I didn't even know he was there.  "I would have just told them to keep their hands and feet to themselves, but I think your way was a little more effective."

I laughed bitterly.  "We'll see."

We watched the kids play in the backyard for a bit, then Jason clapped me on the back and said, "Wouldn't it be nice if everything was as easy to fix with an icepack and an apology?"  He gave me a knowing look, and without waiting for my reply, he walked out onto the deck, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my thoughts and my beer.

My thoughts made me finish my beer and grab a new one.  I drank about half of that one before I went outside to see if my step-dad Robert wanted any help with the grill.  He declined my offer but asked me to grab him a beer.  I figured I'd get myself one while I was in there, so I finished mine off and grabbed another.  My fourth?  I don't even know.  I delivered Robert's beer and then bit the bullet and went to go sit with my mom, Elize, and Jason.  Luckily no one asked me any more questions about Kinsley, asking instead about work and my house, which I had just finished doing some remodeling work on. Really, though, I just wanted them all to leave me alone.

I was 6 (or maybe 7?) beers in by the time dinner was ready.  My mom gave me a sharp look when I came back with another.  "What?" I asked irritably.

"I'm just worried about you, honey," my mom said softly.  "You don't normally drink like this.  Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," I said.  I turned and walked to the table, sitting down heavily.  I was quiet through dinner, which prompted a lot of concerned looks from my mom and Elize.

After dinner I had another beer, and then another one.  When Elize and Jason started getting the kids ready to go home, Robert stopped me in the hall.  "I think you'd better stay here tonight, Damien," he said.  I didn't argue with him, just looked at him through my heavy eyelids.  "Your mom is getting the guest room ready."  I nodded, then moved past him to go to the bathroom.

I spent the night and woke up late the next morning, which was thankfully a Sunday.  I felt awful.  Really ridiculously awful.  I groaned and rolled over, pressing my eyes shut again.  But try as I might, I couldn't fall back to sleep.  So I hauled myself out of bed, stopped in the bathroom, and then continued into the kitchen.

The sun streaming through the windows was agony on my throbbing head.  My mom took one look at me and without a word, she filled a glass with water and handed it to me, then took a bottle of advil out of her purse and handed that over as well.  I swallowed three of them and drank the glass of water, then sat down on the couch.    "Do you want to talk about it?" my mom asked from the kitchen.

"No," I replied.

"Alright, then get your stuff together and get home, Robert and I have things to do today."  I was a little surprised at being dismissed so unceremoniously, but when I walked past the kitchen to go get my shoes out of the guest room, my mom said, "We love you, Damien.  Remember that."

"I know, Mom," I replied.  "I love you too."

Three days later, I ran into Lauren at the grocery store.  Why can't I go anywhere without running into someone I know?  This is not a small town.  "Hi," I said awkwardly.

She frowned, then said, "Hey."  We were both silent for a second, and then we both reached for the same container of strawberries.

"Sorry," we said at the same time.

Lauren took a deep breath and said, "Kinsley's a mess.  A complete disaster.  You broke her, you bastard."  Then she snatched the strawberries we'd both reached for, put them in her basket, and walked away without another word.

I was so distracted after that that I forgot half of the things I needed.  I wondered what that meant.  Kinsley was always kind of a mess.  A beautiful mess that I loved, but still a mess.  Always late, unorganized, reactive, impulsive.  I wondered what "complete disaster" Kinsley was like.  Maybe the opposite.  Organized, quiet, thoughtful.  That would be a sight to see.  I didn't think I'd like it though.

Lauren's words had a huge impact on me.  Kinsley had seemed so sure, so together, when she walked out of my house the last time I saw her.  It made it easy to believe that we weren't getting back together, even though I hoped against hope that maybe we could.  But hearing Lauren say that Kinsley was a mess...I didn't want her to be a mess, of course, but maybe that meant she'd be open to hearing my apology.  Open to hearing me acknowledge that I messed this up and I would do things differently, and I could do things differently, now that I understood what I'd done wrong in the first place.

It took me two days to gather the courage to call her.  I was surprised that she answered, but I wasn't surprised at her anger.  I deserved it.  She surprised me again when she said she'd be over in half an hour.  I had figured if she did decide to see me, she'd exert some sort of control over it by saying we could meet tomorrow, or another time and place of her choosing.

When I opened my door and she immediately started yelling at me, I almost laughed.  I'm glad I didn't, because that wouldn't have helped.  It was so good to see her, even if she was yelling and swearing and making a scene.  Plus, if she was yelling, that meant she still felt some way about me.  If she was indifferent, it was over.

I had to change my tack and skip most of my planned apology.  I wouldn't have gotten anywhere with her anger where it was.  Instead, I addressed her anger and her feelings in the way that would make the most sense to her.  We still needed to talk, of course...maybe tomorrow.  For tonight, I had her in my bed and she was spending the night, and that was enough for now.