“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” Tate asked as I dragged him out of the hardware store.
“Not really,” I admitted. What I wanted was for him to kiss me again. If I couldn’t have that, I at least wanted to be as far away from Mac Campbell as I possibly could.
I waited next to his truck for him to unlock it.
“Am I taking you home?” he asked. His voice was so gentle, so soothing. Maybe I could tell him, maybe.
“I still need to go to the grocery store, if that’s okay,” I said. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want him to see me crying.
Tate was good company and didn’t push the matter. Maybe I should tell him. Mac was bound to bring it up, after all. I didn’t trust him to actually leave me alone anytime soon.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Tate asked as he pulled his truck into the apartment complex.
“I told you, I don’t do Valentine’s Day,” I said as I grabbed all of my grocery bags and the garment bag with the dress.
“It doesn’t have to be for a date, Kenzie. I like your company.” He watched me load my arms up. “Are you sure you don’t want any help?”
“I do this all the time. I’ve got it. Maybe we’ll run into each other. I enjoyed this.” I somehow managed to close the door with my butt. I wanted to see Tate again, but I didn’t know if I would be the best company on Valentine’s Day.
The next morning, I only got up to make sure Ruby had what she needed for school before I went back to bed. February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day, every year for the past five years, I’d kept this day to myself. Seeing people out together being all loving hurt too much.
Grief has been described to me in different ways, a big ball in a box, or a lot of balls and a bell. Whatever the combination, the grief wound keeps getting hit either by the ball hitting the sides of the box or the little balls ringing the bell. And somehow, time is supposed to change the proportions of the balls and the bells so that the grief wound doesn’t get hit as often. I could accept these theories most days of the year. But on February fourteenth, I was nothing but that grief wound being hit over and over again.
I woke up sometime in the late morning. I didn’t feel any better for having slept in. It was a struggle to get up and get myself dressed. Maybe this year, I could not visit?
I flopped back into bed, thinking sleeping would be easier until I started crying again. I gasped for air as the grief grew too strong. I couldn’t skip visiting their graves this year. I just couldn’t.
I walked all the way to the cemetery. About halfway there, I remembered I still needed to pick up my spare tire from the Tire Guy. I’d do it on my way to work the next day. Today, I didn’t want to do anything.
Ruby didn’t have the same grief I did. To her, this day was more about swapping little Valentine’s cards and eating heart-shaped candies. It didn’t hold the same pain for her. At first, I was mad about that. I had just been mad at the world, but why didn’t Ruby hurt the way I did? And then I did some growing up. Everyone faces grief differently, and a child faces it differently from an adult. Not that I would have called my nineteen-year-old self an adult. But I had been more aware of everything than Ruby had been five years ago.
I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my coat and wondered how much one of those puffer jackets might cost. Maybe if I started putting a few dollars away with every paycheck, I would be able to afford one next year when they went on sale? The coat I currently had, I got at the thrift store, and it really wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping the cold out.
I climbed the hill on the other side of the cemetery gates. When I got to their tombstone, I brushed snow from the top of it.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I said as I leaned on the marble stone. I couldn’t hug them, so I hugged the stone that marked their final resting place. It had a heart on it. I know some people thought it was because of our name, Hart, but I selected it because my parents had been a true love story. Not even in death would they part.
I would have given anything to have them say hi back.
I stayed until threatening clouds darkened the early afternoon sky. I was too cold to feel my toes, and my fingertips hurt inside my gloves. I didn’t have a car to retreat to and crank up the heat. I still had to walk home. I brushed tears from my cheeks. I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to be apart from them again. But the weather was going to drive me inside if I didn’t move on my own.
I would get caught out in the sleet either way. I didn’t need to prolong my exposure. I sniffled my way down the hill and back alongside the road.
Cars rushed past me. It would be nice if Flat Rock could see its way to putting in sidewalks. I wasn’t the only person who occasionally walked.
“Kenzie? What are you doing out here?”
I looked up to see Tate jumping out of his big red truck. I wiped at the tears that continued to run down my cheeks. So much for him not seeing me crying.
“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He bundled me into his arms and against his chest. “You’re not hurt, are you? Did your car break down again?”
I shook my head. It was hard to talk when I was surrounded by his care. I fisted his jacket into my hand and let myself cry for a good, long time. He held me and let me cry against him.
After some time, I calmed my breathing, and the tears stopped. I was still blanketed in sadness, but at least I wasn’t crying for a minute.
“I just came from the cemetery,” I said.
“You’re freezing. Get in the truck. We can talk where you can be warm.”
I climbed in, surprised when Tate followed me into the passenger side. He started the truck and turned the heat on with his long arms from the passenger side. Then he held me on his lap. He coaxed me to put my head on his shoulder. He was warm and provided a solace I didn’t know how to find on my own.
“I don’t do Valentine’s Day,” I started.
Tate tensed as if to protest that this wasn’t a date.
“Because it was my parents’ anniversary. They loved love, and this was their most favorite day of the year. Some people love Halloween, like Ruby, and for others, Christmas is their day. But for Mom and Dad, it was Valentine’s Day. I always have a hard time around their anniversary,” I confessed.
Tate made a comforting humming noise and stroked my hair. He smelled nice, like clean soap and aftershave.
“I’m sorry if you thought I was pushing for a Valentine’s date. I didn’t know.” His voice rumbled through his chest and into me. I liked the sound of his voice. Everything about him felt comforting.
“Remember yesterday when I didn’t want to tell you about Mac?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I tell you now?”
“Of course,” he said.
“I was nineteen when my parents were killed in a car accident.” I tried to keep the hard parts as clinically factual as I could. No emotion, just the facts.
“Mac was one of my dad’s friends. I’ve known Mac pretty much my whole life. So, yeah, I totally think it’s gross that he hits on me. He was there after the accident, being helpful. Being a surrogate father, or at least that’s what I thought. He proposed to me for the first time almost exactly a year after the accident. As he said, respecting my grief.” I shuddered at the memory.
“Your father’s friend started hitting on you?” Tate stiffened under me. “Isn’t he a bit too old?”
“I think so. I’m not into older guys.”
Tate stiffened under my legs.
“Oh, relax, you’re not that much older than me.”
“I’m pushing forty,” he admitted.
I stared at his face. He didn’t look like he could be in his forties, but then again, I wasn’t good with gauging ages.
“Forty isn’t sixty,” I finally said.
“Sixty? He’s acting like he’s a dumb teenager who doesn’t understand how to talk to girls yet.” Tate chuckled.
“Yeah, well I don’t know whether he’s dumb or manipulative. I trusted him, and in less than two years, he had managed to give me the worst advice ever when it came to the inheritance money. My parents didn’t own their house. There wasn’t a lot to begin with, and it’s been a struggle ever since.”
“Mac thinks you’re going to come around and accept his proposal at some point?”
I nodded. “I’ve never indicated that I was interested. I’m not. But he gets very insistent this time of year.”
“Do you need me to talk to him, get him to leave you alone?”
I loved that Tate was so protective. He barely knew me, yet he was willing to go up against Mac for my sake.
“No, but thank you.” I tried to wiggle out of his lap and open the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home. I need to get home. Ruby has a sleepover at her friend’s. I want to make sure she gets everything she needs before heading over.”
“I’ll give you a ride.” He opened the door. I slid out onto the side of the road, and he followed me out of the truck.
“I can walk,” I said.
“I know you can walk. But it’s cold and getting wet out here. Get in.”
I climbed back in and buckled up.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask me for a ride out here, or at least for a ride home.”
“I didn’t think to ask. I tend to not ask for things I can do myself.”
“Because of Mac?” Tate asked.
Because people let me down more often than not. Because it never occurred to me that I could ask him to drive me around more than I already had. “Because of Mac.”
