Christina Lee - Whisper to Me

I opened my mouth to protest, but my father gave me a warning look. “You have to wear this. Company policy.”

“I’m just not a suit kind of guy.” Especially not a goddamn polyester suit. “What about the T-shirts I see the bar backs wearing?”

“Ask Stu to order a few in your size. In the meantime, put this on.”

I bit my tongue and grabbed it from him. It was too snug, but I pushed up the sleeves and was on my way.

I pulled alongside the curb in the artsy part of town known as the Commons. I spotted Mom inside the new shop, looking tired and flustered. Immediately, I knew I’d made the right decision to come home to help her this summer.

She’d been there for me on so many occasions. When I’d woken up in the ICU and seen the confusion and torment on her face—the pain and sorrow—it had killed me. Daddy’s face hadn’t been much better.

I had tried hard for them, especially at the beginning of my recovery. And I had definitely been trying for me, too. My days were spent wallowing between despair, anger, and hope.

And whether I admitted it or not, many of those hopeful days were due to Kai, who had always showed up with a huge, cocky grin on his face. “You ready, Turtle?”

And that would piss me off and spur me on. But he’d get this tenderness in his eyes, and I couldn’t stay mad for long. That nickname had stuck through high school, and to this day, you couldn’t pay me to run. Even though I would’ve loved to show my classmates up after surgery.

Little did Kai realize how appropriate a moniker it would become for someone who was so weak she needed a cane to help her walk just a few feet or a wheelchair to move her around.

The first time Kai let that nickname slip after a particularly grueling physical therapy session, I’d felt an initial stab of humiliation, which I was positive had been reflected in my eyes. “Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what that might sound like now.”

“Don’t you dare stop calling me that. I’ll be pissed if you do,” I’d said. “You’re one of the only people in my life who treats me the same as you did before.”

We shared a meaningful look that made me feel connected to him in a way few others had. “Okay, Shelly. I won’t.”

I banged on the door to Pure, startling Mom in the process. She rushed to unlock it and then helped prop it open as I carried in a box of color samples from the paint store and some other decorations I had spotted while at Walmart.

I looked around the shop, which was a smaller space than her last one but a fitting size for her business. Plus, there were two back rooms where Mom could work her lotion, candle, and soap-making magic. Hand-poured and paraben-free, of course.

“It’s looking halfway decent, Mom. I like how you arranged the shelves,” I said. “I still think you should paint that back wall a warm dramatic color, like a taupe or chocolate brown, to make the whole room pop.”

When she gave me a skeptical look, I continued. “I brought samples. Let me dab some on the wall first before you veto my decision.”

“Okay,” she said. “You’re better at the decorating stuff than I am.”

I placed my boxes near the cash register and then pulled out a light-colored T-shirt from one of the bags I’d brought along. “Maybe you’d also consider carrying other locally-made things. Like these shirts. They’re crafted out of one hundred percent organic cotton and have these cute Zen sayings on them.”

I handed her the top. “This one says, Leap and a net will appear.”

She rolled the material between her fingers and then held it up. “I never would have thought to include other local products along with mine.”

“It’ll create more of a community feel. Plus, you can cross-promote,” I said, removing a couple of the bracelets I’d purchased from an online neighborhood shop. “It might even help boost the local economy.”

“Huh, when did you get so darn smart?” she said, trying on the bracelet for size.

“I am getting my business degree for a reason,” I said, prying the lid off one of the paint cans.

“You sure are.” She gave me a one-armed hug and kissed the top of my head. “Why do you think I begged you to help me?”

I smiled and dabbed a small brush into the chocolate-brown paint before slashing across the wall.

“What do you think?” I said, taking a step backward so she could see the effect.

“I definitely like the color. Dramatic, like you pointed out,” she said. “But it’s hard to tell from that little segment.”

“Let me paint a larger section of the wall and then we’ll decide.” I dipped the brush again and this time drew longer strokes across the pale wall. Mom got busy unloading a box of her beeswax candles.

“When’s the last time you talked to your father?” I could hear the tightness in her voice.

For a while, I’d secretly been afraid that I’d caused my parents’ divorce. That what they’d gone through after my accident had placed an inordinate amount of strain on their marriage. But Mom had reminded me that they hadn’t been getting along for a long time, and that revelation had forced me to recognize the truth.

What my recovery had done was exacerbate how much my parents didn’t see eye to eye. And that’s another reason why I hadn’t put much stake in relationships in the years after. If one traumatic event had sent three guys out of my life, I figured I wouldn’t be very good at making the other parts of relationships work, either.

“I talked to Daddy yesterday,” I said, still making even brushstrokes. “We’re going to meet for lunch tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said, now arranging the Shea butter soaps on the corner display.

I wanted to ask her if she had any regrets about divorcing my father. If she truly was happy now with her new husband, John. But I’d work up to it slowly. I could always talk straight to my mom, but some subjects were touchier than others.

“So how does it feel being home?” she asked. I could hear the caution in her voice. She knew that being back in town brought on a mixed bag of feelings.

“It feels strange, to be honest,” I said, pulling out another small brush to test the other color sample.

“I understand, honey,” she said, getting to her feet and admiring her handiwork. “But time has passed, and you’ve grown into a gorgeous young lady. Nobody remembers you as that girl. Heck, I’m your mom and even I don’t recognize you anymore.”

I laughed louder than I’d intended and shook my head.

“What’s so funny?” She turned toward me and squeezed my shoulder.

“Kai said practically the same thing to me this morning,” I offered, while dabbing the new color onto the far side of the wall.

She raised her eyebrows. “He certainly knows you pretty well. What do you think he meant by it?”

There was no way in hell I was going to tell her that Kai said it after indicating he knew what I’d been doing in my free time at the university. “I think he meant that I was tougher than the last time he saw me.”

“Well, I’d certainly agree with that,” she said, and now I wondered what changes she’d noticed about me—outside of shortened visits home and phone calls that consisted only of talking about classes and news about friends.

“So it’s going okay living with your two childhood friends?” she asked. “I’ll admit I was surprised to hear that Kai was back and crashing at her place, too.”

I wasn’t about to tell her why Kai had returned so suddenly. She’d find out eventually, anyway. Somehow I felt protective over him, maybe the same way he’d been over me.

“It’s great,” I said. “Who wouldn’t want an apartment with that view?”

“True,” Mom said. “They’ve always been good kids. And hopefully Kai has matured over the past few years as well?”

Oh, he’s matured all right, I’d wanted to say, but I held my tongue.

“I think so,” I said.

I thought about my childhood with Kai and felt that fear in the pit of my stomach again about ruining things with him.

“Oh, the trouble the three of you would get into, especially when Kai was around.”

I would always egg Kai on. Or dare him to do something silly or crazy, and he’d always take me up on it. Little did my mom know that I had been the instigator, and Kai had had a hard time backing down from a challenge. Dakota always ratted us out. She had always been a total tattletale and daddy’s girl.

“Well, your daughter only pretended to be an angel,” I said, with a smirk on my face. “Kai just took up for me most of the time.”

She looked up from her box of lotions, her eyebrows bunched together. “No way.”

I nodded. “Way.”

“Sheesh, the things parents find out after the fact.” She got this wistful glint in her eye. “That explains why he was so great with you in the hospital. He’s a caretaker, that one.”

I had never thought of Kai in that way. But when she put it like that, it made sense. He was definitely great at music, and he was also a loyal and compassionate friend.

“I always thought he’d make a great husband someday,” she said, lost in thought. “After he was done sowing his wild oats. Kids probably don’t even use that phrase nowadays.”

Old-fashioned saying or not, my skin heated at her words. The way his fingers felt against mine. His mouth.

“I’m pretty sure he’s the same old Kai with the girls. Doesn’t seem to want to be with one person. He’s still kind of a lost soul.” A beautiful and sexy lost soul. “He’s going to work at the casino this summer and figure out what he wants to do.”