CHAPTER TWELVE
Kenzi Shaw: The Edge of Reason
“ALL BY MYSELF” DOESN’T need to be blaring from the stereo, I’m humming it. An empty bag of chips and an almost empty bottle of wine sit next to me on the couch. Unlike the opening of Bridget Jones’s Diary, I do have messages, six of them. Three from Ellie, two from Shane, and one from Bradley, none of which I want to listen to.
I’ve changed from my gorgeous yellow dress into my comfy Victoria’s Secret pink. Some secret, it’s just sweatpants and a hoodie. The hoodie’s up with the strings cinched so tight there’s only a small opening to see out of and pour wine into. I feel better in here. I have no idea why. But I plan on staying like this for a while. My phone’s ringing again. I wonder why poor Bridget didn’t have a single call.
“I’d call you, Bridget.”
I finish my drink and head for the fridge, certain that Bradley has me well stocked with sweet wine. See, another example of Bradley being nice. Guilt grabs me by the throat and throttles me.
Shane kissed me.
I didn’t exactly stop him. Why didn’t I stop him? Me. You should be waiting for me.
I open another bottle, pour a glass, and snatch up my phone. The one person who was supposed to call, that I expected a call from, didn’t bother. So yeah, I’m calling Tonya. Very sound reasoning.
The recorded greeting starts. Blah, blah, blah, leave a message. I knew she wouldn’t answer. “Hey, Tonzy. It’s me, weren’t we supposed to talk today? You can’t call me back?”
I push off the wall, the phone wedged inside my cinched hoodie, and slip-slide across the hall in my fuzzy socks. With each word I pick up speed. “You know what? A coffee is not an apology.” I turn and head in the opposite direction, gliding like I’m on ice skates, one hand out for a semblance of balance. “I mean, really, how could you do that to me? And not say I’m sorry? You messed around with my boyfriend, lied to me about it, and basically broke us up.”
I shake my head, blinking back tears as I slide back through the living room, performing a drunken Ice Capades to the mental tune of “All by Myself.” And thank God I am. All by myself, that is. I can only imagine what this looks like. “So yeah, I think I at least deserve an ‘I’m sorry,’ don’t you? Not that I’m going to accept it.”
I’m circling the coffee table, spewing every random thought that pops to mind. Tears freely fall down my cheeks. I know the message beeped, but I keep going, doing crazy eights, blabbering into the phone, stopping only for slugs of wine before starting up again.
The if onlys are bursting open like kernels in an air popper. If only I hadn’t left the party that night. If only Tonya hadn’t gone. If only Shane hadn’t kissed her.
I stop.
If only I hadn’t kissed Shane back.
My hand falls away from my ear, the phone dangles from my fingertips. My heart’s heavy with grief and guilt.
My legs give way and I crumple to the floor beside my phone. Clicking it off, I let the thought settle. Tonya kissed Shane and told me he cheated with someone. That’s why I broke up with him. He never told me it was her or just a stupid kiss. She never said a word.
I kissed Shane back tonight. My eyes widen. I’m no better than either of them. Was it just a stupid kiss? Am I telling Bradley? Am I breaking up with him? Warm tears run down my cheeks.
Oh my God, what am I doing?
There’s a knock at the door. It’s after midnight. Shane doesn’t know where I live. Bradley’s not home till Monday night, which is now tomorrow night.
Another knock.
Go away. I wanna be all by myself.
More banging. “Kenz? Open up.”
Somehow I manage to get myself to the door. Peering out from my hoodie hole into the peep one, I make out Ellie’s face.
“Ellie?” I’m actually glad to see her.
“Kenzi, are you okay? I’ve been calling. Let me in.” She knocks again.
“She’s in there.”
Wait, who’s with her? I’m desperately trying to angle my eye to get a better view of the hallway. “Who’s with you?” I can hear her talking, but all I see is a distorted Ellie, talking on the phone. She has gigantic fish lips.
“I’m with Rand. Shane said you ran off, are you going to open?”
“You’re with Rand Peterson?” I like to say his name. “Rand Peterson?”
It reminds me of The Wedding Planner scene where Jennifer Lopez is drunk and can’t get into her apartment. She’s reading off the names and clicking all the buttons.
“Rand Peterson? Do you know Nancy Pong? If you ever need to borrow sugar, I can’t help you, because you don’t know me.” See? I’m doing my own movie moment. I don’t need his stupid list.
“Kenz, let us in. Shane wants to know if he can come by, if you’re okay.”
Oh, hell no. “Is he on the phone? Tell him . . . tell him . . .” My mind scrambles for the line in The Wedding Planner when Matthew’s character came back banging on her door. I slide my legs out in slipper splits, gripping the doorknob for balance while I think. Ellie and Rand are saying something, but it’s muffled.
“Oh! Tell him it’s simple. I love Bradley and he loves me. So, besides Shane’s tux measurements, that’s all I need to know. Please . . .” Go away.
But I don’t want him to go away. I also don’t want his measurements.
“Kenz, what the hell are you talking about?” More banging. “He really wants to come by. Can I give him the address? Please?”
“No. Don’t!” I slide down to the floor and land with a thud. “I’m fine. I’m Fantastically Inebriated and Numb Everywhere.” Thank goodness, ’cause that’s gonna leave a mark.
It takes at least three more of “Yes, I’m okay,” and a promise to call her in the morning before they finally leave.
After a while, I pull myself up and search through my DVDs for Bridget Jones’s Diary. Finding it, I pop it in and curl up on the couch. My face is tear stained, my head’s spinning from the wine, and my whole world is upside down.
In my mind, I see my future daughter with blond curls. She’s waving a sign, firing me. Wiping my eyes, I sing quietly along to the opening credits, but change the lyrics to “I’m gonna be all by myself.” The screen goes blurry from more tears. Shit, I am all by myself.
“I’d still call ya, Bridge.”
BOTH SHANE AND BRADLEY HAVE called me again this morning. And my mom. Still haven’t listened to any of the messages, but I am calling Ellie back. I mean, she did come all the way over here to make sure I was okay. I didn’t even know she seriously liked Rand Peterson. I realize suddenly that my head’s been so far up my own ass, I haven’t really asked her much of anything.
I dial her number and wait. The phone’s on the third ring, and I’m rubbing at my hip, which has a light purple bruise from my drunkards-on-ice debut last night. My head’s fine, surprisingly. Maybe wine is the way to go.
“Kenzi?” She’s whispering.
“Hey, girl, sorry.”
“You’re okay?” I hear her moving about her apartment. “Shane called again, wanting to know if I’d heard from you.”
“Why are you whispering?” I ask in a whisper.
“What?”
“Ellie, why are we whispering?”
“Rand’s here.”
“What? Rand Peterson!” I shout into the phone.
She shushes me. I whisper back, “He stayed? You guys?”
“I know, I just . . . I like him, Kenz.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“So, any truth to the shoe-size theory?”
She giggles. “I can’t talk right now.” I hear rustling. “But you should really call Shane. Okay? Call him and call me later. I need to know what happened.”
You and me both.
“Okay, later, Ellie-bell.” I click off the phone. There’s no way I’m calling Shane. There’s a heavy ache in my chest. What would I even say?
Clicking the voice mail button and speaker, I decide to at least listen to the messages. Ellie’s voice comes through first.
“Kenzi, Shane just called wanting to know if I talked with you. Where are you? What the hell happened? Call me back.”
I delete and let it roll on to the next one. It’s Ellie again.
“Kenzi, answer your phone! I’m starting to get worried. If you don’t call me back soon I’m coming over there.”
Mmm, guess I could’ve avoided that. Delete.
“Kensington.”
My heart jumps at the sound of Shane’s voice. I’m frozen staring at the phone, eyes wide.
“I didn’t mean . . . look, can you ring me back? Please?”
I hit 9 for save. I don’t know why.
“Hi, hon.” Bradley’s voice sounds grainy, as though he’s coming down with something. “I wanted to make sure you got in okay from the symphony. Call or text me when you do. I’m surprised you’re not home yet. I’ll wait up.” He sounds concerned.
A lump lodges in my throat as I delete it and wait for the next one. There’s a gap before anyone speaks. I know it’s Shane.
“. . . I would’ve come by. Kensington, please ring me.”
I hit SAVE.
“Hi, hon.” Bradley again. “Ellie said you left not feeling well last night. Hope it’s nothing serious. I’ll be back tomorrow night and call you then. Love you.”
He loves me. And now Ellie’s lying to cover my lies.
Oh my God, I hate myself.
I delete Bradley’s second message. I owe Ellie big time for playing operator. What do I tell Bradley? If I don’t tell him what happened, I’m no different from Shane or Tonya. But if I do tell him, the account is as good as gone. Bradley will kill him. I’ll lose my job for sure. He might even call off the engagement.
Rubbing the back of my head, I try and knead out the tension and wait for the next message.
“Hi, Kensington. It’s me, your mom.”
Yes, Mom, I know who you are. At least she didn’t call Ellie.
“What did you think of the invites? They’re wonderful, aren’t they? We’ve already received RSVPs. Everyone’s very excited.”
Invites. I haven’t checked my mailbox in a few days. If the wedding’s off, what will I say to my family? My chest hurts just thinking about sitting there alone, knowing it was supposed to be my day, too.
“I want you there early to help with things. Oh, and Ren mentioned she set you up with that very exclusive wedding planner friend of hers. Be sure to thank her. She’s really pulled in a favor for you. Okay, I have to go. I’m meeting the girls for lunch.”
Delete. Delete and delete. Yep, she’s gone.
Wish I was. I pull the hood from my sweatshirt back up and the cords snug.
He kissed me.
Okay, so he kissed me. I kissed him back and then I didn’t. But I didn’t want to stop. I tighten the cords even more. My Pinocchio nose is the only thing visible. I’m going to be rational and logical, and honest. I can be honest. It’s only me in here.
I hear Shane’s words, “He won’t make you happy, Kensington.” What does Shane know? Bradley hasn’t lied to me. Bradley didn’t up and leave me. No, he’s here. Right now, and wants to start a family.
My eyes close as I picture my life with Bradley. We’d have a really nice house, I’m sure of it. We would start trying for kids right away. He’d hire a nanny, but I’d maybe want to stay home instead. He’d be okay with that. I’d have everything my family expects for me.
What about what I expect for me? What about being in love like in a movie? Is Bradley my knight in shining armor that I’m going to rescue right back?
Be honest.
Bradley loves me. Is stable and safe . . . but where’s the spark? I’m sure I’d pass Ellie’s Tummy Flip Test.
No flip. The movie’s a flop.
But what about Shane? There’s spark, but is there substance? Has he really changed that much from college or I am just his interest of the moment? Still no follow-through.
I cinch the hoodie’s cords even tighter. How am I going to face everyone tomorrow? Let alone Ren? We’re meeting at the wedding planner’s first thing.
Should there even be a wedding?