|
Post by kennedy paige york on Jul 6, 2011 22:55:00 GMT -5
Kennedy felt like she hadn’t been in this place for years. It was funny, too, considering she knew only a few Christmases ago she was climbing up these steps with an arm full of gifts for the family members gathered around inside. But distant cousins and great aunts and uncles that made her mother nervous and frazzled didn’t really make her feel at home. Besides, she was out of there before anyone could see her. She curled up in the attic library that Christmas, cracking spines of books she used to adore when she was in high school. But it all felt so wrong to her.
Being back in the muggy summer made her feel different. She’d cried enough tears for this place. So many that even now if she wanted to her body wouldn’t allow her to. Instead she just sat, stared out over at the familiar house across the street. When it got to be too much she’d look back down at the ground in front of her feet and try to ignore the deep seated urge to get up and march across the wet grass and glistened road to knock on the door. She was sure he wouldn’t be there. Last she knew he had long since moved out of his mother’s house. But someone was there. The car in the driveway and the lights on downstairs said that much. The family room, it seemed, if Kennedy remembered and if the King’s hadn’t changed their house much. She had spent a lot of her teen years in that room, curled up on the sofa with Wesley watching any movie they could get their hands on. Both before and after they began dating. The only difference was proximity and how long the movie would be playing before they got too distracted with each other to finish it.
But those thoughts were the ones Ken was avoiding. She wasn’t here for him or for what they had. She was here because this was home again. The front porch that desperately needed a paint job where she sat now would welcome her home every day. She would cross the steps where she sat and waited for Wesley to pick her up in his clunker of a car, the spot where she spoke to Max Heaton in paint splattered pants that lead to what would eventually make Wes punch him in the face, the spot where she broke down when she knew the baby she finally loved would never come to be. It was all flooding back to her but she had to push it away.
Kennedy glanced up from the wet grass. It had only stopped raining a couple hours ago. She’d been peeking out the window all morning waiting for it to stop. She just needed a break from the house but going past the porch meant dealing with even more than she would have to deal with sitting on her front porch. Her eyes locked on the King house again, the lights still on. Part of her wished it was just his sister, entertaining her friends the way she and Wes used to do after school all the time or his mother tidying up. But most of her wished it was Wesley, sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn watching his favorite movie and thinking of her.
But Kennedy knew to always be careful what she wished for.
[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]
|
|