Kinsley: I Miss You

Hi everyone!  I hope you enjoyed last week's and this weekend's bonus posts.  If you missed them, be sure you go back and check them out.  This week will be back to business as usual, with two posts--one from Kinsley and one from Lauren.  This is the Kinsley post, and Lauren's will be up later this week.  I appreciate you guys being cool with my less-than-consistent schedule.  I'd love to always have posts up at a certain time on certain days but that just doesn't work for my life right now.  

I also wanted to update you on one of my other projects.  I promised a new blog, and I finally have the layout all set up for it!  I still need some work on the actual content, but I'm actively working on it.  I had originally thought I'd launch around the new year, but I'm guessing it will probably be closer to February.  I have a lot planned for Lauren and Kinsley, and I don't want to cut them off or be juggling two blogs unless I have a really significant number of posts created.  I'm really excited about the new story, though, and I'm having a hard time waiting to share it with you!  My semester is over in a couple weeks (holy cow) and I anticipate I'll have more time to write then, which I'm definitely looking forward to.
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Damien drove straight to his house, because it was closer.  Neither of us spoke.  We walked inside silently and I went straight to his kitchen for a glass of water.  I needed something to do with my hands.  I got two glasses and filled them with water, then brought them back into the living room where Damien was pacing absently around.  He looked like me when I'm upset.

I watched him pace and realized that I didn't like seeing him worked up.  I've always complained about his unflappability, but this was unnerving.  "I'm really sorry," I said miserably.

"You're what?" he asked sharply, stopping dead in his tracks.

I flinched at his tone.  "I'm sorry," I repeated softly.

He walked over to the couch and sat down next to me.  "Why are you sorry?" he asked incredulously.  His voice was quieter and he stroked the back of my hand lightly before pulling away to give me some space, which I welcomed.

"That was a giant disaster, and it was my fault because I can't just act like an adult."

Damien shook his head.  "You don't have to apologize to me.  You weren't wrong, so you don't have to apologize to anyone, but definitely not to me."

"But you're so angry," I pointed out.

His eyes got wide and his face softened immediately.  "I'm not angry at you, Kinsley."

"Oh," I said, relieving by the hard edges of his face melting back to what I knew.  "I just...I don't know, I've never seen you so agitated."

Damien sighed and rubbed his hand over his short hair.  "I was livid when your father grabbed you.  That's honestly probably the closest I've ever been to knocking someone out.  It's just taking me a little while to settle down.  I'm sorry if you thought I was angry at you."

I shrugged.  "I didn't know what to think, I've never seen you so worked up."

"I don't get this worked up very often," he agreed.

"Do you want to go for a walk, or a run, or something?" I suggested.  I couldn't just sit here and stew.  We decided to go for a quick run to blow off some steam.  I grabbed my gym bag from my car and surveyed what I had.  A good sports bra, two pairs of leggings, and a tank top.  I frowned.  Not exactly cold-weather running gear.

Damien dug out a long sleeved shirt for me to wear.  When he came back over to me with it in his hands, I was standing in the middle of his room in my sports bra, pulling my hair back into a ponytail.  His eyes fell to my arm and his jaw clenched tightly.  I followed his gaze down to my inner arm and saw the bruises darkening there.  I waited for him to say something, but he just handed me the shirt and went back to changing.

Damien's obvious anger made me uneasy.  Not because I was scared or uncomfortable being around him when he was angry, or that I thought he'd do something stupid, but just because it was so out of character for him.  I don't like things that don't happen how I expect them to.  I hoped that the run would help him feel better.

I had a hard time keeping up with him at first, but he quickly realized he was pushing me too hard and slowed to a more manageable pace.  "If you want to go ahead, you can," I told him.  "I'll be okay."

"No, this is good," he replied.  We continued in silence, our foot falls one of the only sounds on the dark, deserted, snow covered path near my house.  Everyone else was inside, enjoying their turkey comas and pumpkin pie.

We ran for...I don't even know how long.  Until my legs couldn't do it anymore, and I slowed to a walk.  Damien stopped just a couple steps later, and silently we turned around.  We walked back, and it took a really long time.  By the time we got back, I felt 10 times better.

Standing in my room, I stripped off Damien's long sleeved shirt, which was now drenched in sweat, and tossed it into my laundry basket.  "I'll wash it," I promised him.

"That's fine," he replied, shrugging.  "Can I see your arm?"

Reluctantly, I held it away from my body.  The bruises had darkened into distinctive finger marks.  He held my arm gently above the elbow and frowned.  "You could file a police report," he said calmly.

"No," I replied immediately.

Damien raised an eyebrow.  "Kinsley, your father assaulted you."

"So?"

"So, he shouldn't be able to get away with it."

I shook my head.  "No, but I'm just done, Damien.  If I file a police report, I have to deal with whatever the aftermath is.  If I just ignore it, I can finally truly be done.  No one would blame me from cutting off contact with him."

"But--"

"No!" I snapped, feeling my calm from our run quickly fading.  "I'm not doing it, Damien.  And you can't talk me into it, so just stop."

"Okay," he said softly.  "I didn't mean to push.  I just want you to know that he can't do that shit."

I nodded, but then something occurred to me.  "Fuck!" I exclaimed, pushing my hands into my hair.

Damien raised his eyebrows.  "What?"

"I so busy being pissed off that I didn't even ask my brother for his phone number, or email address, or something!" I started pacing.  I was angry at myself.  This had been my only contact with my brother--who practically raised me for the first 10 years of my life--in 17 years, and I couldn't even get my shit together enough to get a way to contact him?  "Damn it!"

"Kinsley," Damien said, breaking into my thoughts.  "I have his number."

I stopped, spinning to face him.  "You have his number?  How?" I demanded.

"He gave it to me before he went out to try to talk to you."

"Why?  Why the hell would he give it you?"  I started pacing again.

Damien's eyes followed me.  "He wanted you to be able to get a hold of him if you decided you wanted to, and he was worried that you wouldn't take it from him.  He had a feeling you were going to be angry at him and wouldn't want to talk to him.  He gave it to me so if you decided later that you wanted to talk to him or see him again, I could give it to you."

I laughed bitterly.  "17 years.  Gone almost two-thirds of my life...and he still knows me better than I know me.  That motherfucker."

"Do you want it?  Or should I just hold onto it for awhile longer?"

I considered this.  "Will you hold onto it for awhile longer?  I don't know if I'm ready."

"Of course," he replied.


It took a week before I decided that I wanted Kaleb's phone number.  Damien readily handed it over and offered to sit with me while I called, but I declined.  I needed to do this on my own.

It was another 3 days before I finally sat down and made the call.  I waited anxiously as the phone rang, and when his voicemail picked up I quickly hung up, sighing with disappointment and relief.  I jumped when my phone rang just seconds later, and I recognized the number I just dialed.  I hit the "answer" button on the screen and lifted my phone to my ear with a shaky arm.  "H-hello?" I stuttered.

"Kinsley?"  Kaleb's voice sounded surprised.  "I hoped...well...hi."

"Hi," I replied.

We were both silent for several seconds.  "I'm glad you called," Kaleb said finally.

"Me too," I said.  "Kaleb..."  I suddenly felt incredibly emotional.

"I know," he said softly.  I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.  "I miss you, Kinsley."

"I miss you too," I agreed.  "I hate you, and I love you, and I miss you."

He laughed.  "I love you too, kid.  Man, I am so happy you called."

I finally got myself together and said, "I have a question that I need you to answer before we just jump back into pretending to be people that know each other."

He chuckled.  "Ask me anything, Kins," he said.

"How did Dad get a hold of you?  Has he had your number all this time?  Where did you even come from?"  He didn't answer at first, and I continued.  "You know that at some point I'm going to ask you why you disappeared, but I'm not ready for that, so don't tell me that."

I heard him take a deep breath, and I imagined him making the face he always made when he was puzzled or trying to explain something really complicated to someone.  I wondered if he was going to try to make shit up.

Finally, he said, "I'm trying to figure out how to explain without telling you why I disappeared.  Well, the short version is this:  A guy I used to run with works at Dad's company.  Dad had tried to get a hold of me through him before.  With everything that was happening with Mom, Dad made a last ditch effort and just told the guy what was happening.  He called me and explained, and I called Dad.  Dad invited me for Thanksgiving, and Kins, I swear he didn't tell me you were going to be there.  I would have tried to make him warn you if I knew.  I wouldn't have wanted to surprise you."

"I didn't know you were going to be there either, obviously," I said.

"Obviously," he teased me gently.  We were both quiet for several seconds, then he said, "Look, you may not be open to this--and I respect that--but I'd really like to catch up with you.  Maybe when you're ready...if you're ever ready, that is...maybe we could hang out or something."  His words were halting and full of pauses, and I could tell he expected me to shut him down.

And honestly?  My initial reaction was to want to shut him down.  He'd left me when I needed him most, and he hadn't come back.  Well, until now, anyway.  But he had his own shit to deal with, and he never should have had to be there to take care of me in the first place.  Instead of shutting him down, I took a deep breath and thought for a second.  "It's okay if you don't want to," Kaleb said, reading my silence as rejection.  "I really do understand.  I just want you--"

"No," I interrupted him, before he could get too carried away on his reassurances.  "I think...I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Kaleb asked.

"Yeah," I confirmed.  Then I laughed.  "This is really weird, isn't it?"

"It is," he agreed.  "But Kinsley?  I'm glad.  And I already said it, but I miss you."

"I miss you too," I replied, even though he was right and we'd already been through this.  But it didn't matter.  All that mattered is that he knew that I really did miss him.