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MERCY
“No!” Camden declares loudly ten seconds after entering the storage space, which here is called a closet, but in New York could be classified as an apartment, it’s so big. “It can’t be. I won’t accept it.”
“What?” I’m standing behind her, and while delicate in many ways, her frame is tall and thus I’m left blind to the disaster at hand.
“It’s come to this,” she wails as she steps sideways and allows me to see the travesty before her.
“Fruit punch.” I take in the tower of flats filled with bright red cans. “Lots of fruit punch.”
“And nothing else!” Clearly, my lack of dismay is upsetting her. “It’s not even any sort of brand name, it’s the generic, cheap, completely disgusting punch. It’s not fit to be served at a wedding. Least of all one I’m hosting!”
“Cam,” I try to reason with her, “We threw a wedding on a moment’s notice, complete with reception, inside the fairgrounds’ food pavilion, which is currently at capacity while serving as a hurricane shelter. I really don’t think anyone will think less of you for serving generic fruit punch soda from a can.”
She scowls as if I’ve just suggested we make everyone go outside and slurp from a puddle to quench their thirst. “You can’t be serious. Have you ever tasted this toxic red sugar water?”
I catch myself just as my fingers graze my lips. “Yeah. I have.”
Her disgust turns darker still. “Oh, Gawd. Are you about to tell me a story that’s going to make me want to drown in this stuff just to forget I heard it?”
“I mean, we’re friends now.” I purse my lips to air-kiss her, purely for the pleasure of seeing her squirm with discomfort at the gesture.
She huffs, taking a seat on the nearest stack of soda cans and crossing her legs. Both hands fold neatly over her knee as her foot begins to bob impatiently. “Fine. Let’s get it done and over with.”
“I was kidding. I’m not really going to bore you with tales of my first kiss.” I wave for her to get back up, but she stays seated.
“I take it Frank is in this story?”
“Uh-huh.” Another reason not to tell it.
“Go on then.” She opens her eyes a little wider as if those are the parts of her head she does the listening with. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this one, but it’ll be interesting hearing the different perspective.”
Wait. “Frank told you about the first time we kissed?”
“I know. I thought it was weird too. But then, here you are. Ready to do the same thing. Clearly, you two are made for each other and I’m just the poor soul stuck in the middle of your kissy tales.”
I lean back against the set of empty shelves I assume used to house the more extensive soda collection we seem to be out of at this time. “What sort of stuff do you two talk about?”
She shrugs. “Mostly stuff neither of us wants to hear from the other.”
“Do you have any normal friendships, Camden? Like, with people you actually share a mutual fondness?”
Her brow goes up as if it’s obvious. “MaryBeth.” Then she juts her chin out impatiently. “Now quit stalling.”
“You seriously want to hear this?”
“I seriously would prefer to do anything over having to go back out there with this deplorable fruit punch. So, yes. I want to hear it. Who knows? You may sway me in favor of the shameful red syrup by the time you’re done.”
Not likely. But I’ll probably want a can for myself after I take this trip down memory lane.
“It was the summer before high school—”
“You were almost in high school before you had your first kiss?”
“Yes. Why? How old were you?”
She frowns in a haughty, there’s-no-way-I’m-telling-you way. “Old enough. But then it should surprise neither of us that I matured before you.”
“Should I make sure I pause for insult breaks as I tell this story?” I inquire before I continue.
“Might be wise.”
I close my eyes on the next inhale and pretend for one full breath I’m somewhere else, far, far from Camden, then I open my eyes and get back to my story.
“Wyatt sent us out to check one of the back fields, said Phyllis next door had called, told him the fence was down and cows were getting through into her horse pasture. So, Frank and I rode out to assess the damage. Turned out to be a pretty simple fix and Frank was able to take care of it right then and there with the tools he’d brought in his saddle bags. Took a bit longer to get the cows moved back, but he made a lesson out of it, teaching me about cattle herding and letting me practice my roping skills, which weren’t half bad, by the way.” I wait. This seems like the sort of opportunity Camden would want to jump on.
Silence.
Finally, she notices me waiting on her. “Oh, no. I’m good.” She flicks her wrist in a dismissive fashion. “That would have been way too easy.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and carry on. “Anyway, the weather was gorgeous, and chores quickly turned to fun. We raced through the fields, taking the horses down to the creek for a swim, you know, the usual summer stuff.”
“Excuse me, but that all sounds far too dirty and rustic to qualify as any of my usual summer stuff,” she cuts in, nose crinkled.
“God, I had no idea you were so deprived as a child.” I make a sad face at her and for a second there she almost grins. “As I was saying, we were doing all the same stuff we’d done nearly every summer of our lives. Then, just as we were heading back, a storm rolled in. We rushed to get the horses into the barn and settled in their stalls in time to make it back up to the house before it broke, but just as we were running for the big barn door, a wall of water came crashing down. So, with nothing better to do than to stay put, Frank started digging around the tack room for snacks. His mama always kept a cooler in there with drinks and food, knowing someone would get hungry or thirsty at some point while out there. That day, he came strolling out with a can of fruit punch and a bottle of water, plus a smushed up looking PB and J we both passed on. I opted for the water.”
“An uncharacteristically wise choice,” Cam mutters.
“And Frank had the fruit punch. Generic. Red on the inside and out. Sugary sweet, exactly like that stuff you’re sitting on.” I can’t help but smile thinking back. “We were standing near the open door, both watching the weather, kind of mesmerized by it, when thunder and lightning exploded in one massive boom and I jumped. Frank caught me and scooped me into his arms so fast and so smoothly, it was almost as if he’d been waiting fourteen years for that moment to come along. I remember looking up into his eyes and seeing things I’d never seen in them before. And then, he kissed me. It was all the things you want a first kiss to be. With the added magic of lightning streaking the sky and a sugary fruity taste so cool and sweet in my mouth, I’ll never forget it.”
I purposely avoid eye contact when I finish my tale. I’m blushing, I can feel the heat magnifying on my cheeks the longer I think about that day and the many, many kisses which followed. It was a long storm. And the Kingston’s had a very lovely attic above the stalls used for storing hay.
“You think of kissing him every time you drink this stuff, don’t you?”
“I hardly ever drink it.”
“Bet you wouldn’t mind popping open a can right now.”
I sigh, giving in to her taunts and looking up to meet her gaze again. “Are you going to use this story to torture me from now until the day I die?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
She pushes her lips toward her right cheek, as if she’s contemplating the answer. “Well, it’ll only be good ammunition as long as sipping fruit punch is the closest thing you have to the real deal.”
“Your point?”
“Once you start kissing Frank for real again, I’ll have nothing to shoot you with.”
I shake my head as I push up from where I’ve been leaning against the shelves. “I don’t know that he’s ever going to kiss me again, Cam. I tried talking to him earlier. He wanted no part of rehashing the past even if it could clear a path to a future. I think maybe we blew it. Made too big a mess of things to ever go back to what we had, or who we were to each other.”
“Oh, please,” she says, almost snorting, “the only mess you two have to deal with is the one in his head. The man’s got such an ego, always thinking he knows what’s best for everyone. Guess it comes with the territory of being a Kingston, and the whole community always looking for you to lead in some capacity. And, I suppose it’s nice being all selfless and heroic all the damn time, but he could do with a little balance in his life, if you know what I mean.”
I’m starting to. Truth is, I always let him play that part. It came easy to him. It was easy to let him.
“Cam?” I ask, as she starts to get up from where she’s been sitting and begins to assess how many cans are in each pack.
“Yes?”
“He didn’t really ever cheat on me, did he?”
She stops what she’s doing and slowly turns back to face me. “No. At least not with Shauna Stewart. I can tell you from personal experience, Frank’s not her type.” She winks and turns back toward the cans. “Now come give me a hand with these. I suddenly see just how fitting it is to serve fruit punch at this wedding. You know, because the happy couple shared their first kiss too. And because that’s just the sort of fairy tale crap you should be focusing on right now to get your life back in order.”
“I can see why you pursued arguing as a fulltime career. Even when you’re saying some off the wall stuff, you make a lot of sense.”
She spins around, four big packs of fruit punch stacked in her arms. “I know. It’s sort of a super-power. You should consider yourself lucky you’re on the winning end of it for a change.”
I bend down to pick up my own stack of soda cans. “You kind of knew all along how this conversation would turn out, didn’t you?”
“I’m not saying I’m psychic, but I did tell you I’d heard the tale before.” She smiles at me. It’s but a flash of time, but I know I saw it. I think we might actually make this friendship work.
––––––––
FRANK
“So,” I ask my dad after I’ve finished retelling the tales of the last twenty-four hours for him, “what do you think?”
“I think for two people who really had it pretty simple where finding love was concerned, you sure know how to keep it complicated.” He laughs. “I mean, the girl lived right next door to you her entire life. You’d think y’all could have just made that work. But no, you two decided to add a little distance, and a decade’s worth of time, and what good did that do? You’re still right where you started. In love. And looking for ways to keep it complicated.” He continues to crack himself up over his own observations.
“You know, Pop, I can’t say I appreciate you acting like the most tragic aspects of my life are some sort of comedy,” I say dryly, stopping as we come up to the gate marking the beginning of our long, dirt driveway.
“And I can’t say I appreciate you taking a romance and turning it into a drama. I quite enjoyed the original, thank you very much. I was looking forward to the wedding, and frankly, I thought I’d be a granddaddy by now. Instead, I’m left with potential Wade offspring as my last hope for grandbabies.” He’s still chuckling though, so I know he’s not as put off by the idea of Wade and Esther as he’s letting on.
“So, that’s it. You think I’m just creating problems where there aren’t any.”
He takes his eyes from me and turns them down toward Hank, reaching out to pat his neck. “You remember that little gray Arabian mare we had when you were a kid? Rosie?”
I nod, somewhat baffled by the sudden change in topic.
“Well, Rosie was about the sweetest, most kind horse you could ever hope for. And we took full advantage of it. Every child or beginner ever came to our ranch was put on that mare for their first ride. Even you and Esther got your start on her. She was wonderful in every way. Except one.”
Another unexpected turn. “What are you talking about? That horse didn’t have a difficult bone in her body.”
“Not that you remember.” He cocks the corner of his mouth into half a grin. “But then you never had to try and catch her.”
“Huh?”
“It was impossible, I tell you, just impossible, to catch that mare when she was out to pasture. I must have tried everything. Bribing her. Roping her. Sneaking up on her. I tell you what, no horse ever made me feel quite as inadequate as that one did.”
“What changed?”
“One day, your mama got tired of watching me make an ass of myself. She marched out there. Told the horse she meant business. And she did. Took her about ten minutes, but she caught her.”
“What? How?”
“Kept it simple. She’d walk up to her. The mare would bolt. She’d walk up again. Mare bolted again. Couple rounds of that, the game got boring and she quit bolting.” He laughs. “You know after that day, anytime your mama even walked out of the house, Rosie would spot her and start for the gate no matter what pasture she was in.”
“I remember that.” My mama was constantly having visits with her. Sometimes she brought her carrot shavings from the kitchen, or watermelon rinds after summer barbeques, but I never thought anything of it.
“Why’re you telling me this story now?”
“Because I didn’t think for one second, the whole time I was working with that horse, that there was an easier way. All I kept thinking, was that I needed to find some clever trick to catching her so I wouldn’t have to keep her penned up on days someone might want to ride her. I hated that worse than anything, keeping her in all day just because I knew you or Esther would want a ride after school, and I wouldn’t be able to catch her if I turned her out with the others. All the feelings of frustration I felt around that, kind of attached themselves to the problem, making it suddenly much bigger and more complicated than what it was.” He shrugs. “I think maybe you’ve done the same thing. Seen a situation you couldn’t bear to witness continue, and so you tried every which way to change it, except the real problem wasn’t that big, and so the solution wasn’t that complicated.”
“I’m not sure it applies as well as you think,” I tell him.
“Sit with it a bit.” He clicks his tongue and Hank starts down the driveway. “It will.”