"I know," I soothed him, walking around to where he was standing and rubbing his back. "It's OK Kaden. I'm here. You don't have to do or say anything. I'm here. Alright?"
"Thank you, Tasha." He whispered through his hands. "Just, thank you."
"It's OK," I told him, because it was. "It's OK."
We stayed in the kitchen for a few minutes while Kaden tried to get himself together.
"I need a drink," he said, finally. "Are you sure you don't want one?"
"Well, why not? Sure, I'll have one."
I wasn't sure what he meant by 'a drink' but it soon became clear when he took out a bottle of whiskey.
"Please don't say anything," he told me, pouring about a shot's worth into two glasses. "I know this isn't the way to handle things. But I'm losing it, Tasha. I think I'm really losing it. There's nothing to do . I've been waiting for three days now, ever since my dad called me at Brooks. I feel like jumping out of my own skin. I want to fix this. I want to help my dad. But there's nothing I can do. There's nothing and it's driving me fucking crazy."
I watched as he downed the shot in one gulp and poured another. I took a small sip of my own. "You're here," I told him. "That's helping. You and your dad need to be together right now, to help each other - and your mom - get through this."
Kaden looked at me forlornly. "I hope you're right."
When he poured the third shot I took the bottle out of his hands and suggested we go sit outside on the back deck. Those little bits of tree fluff that get released over a two or three-day period around that time of year were floating through the air. I reached up and grabbed one, examining the tiny seed before releasing it again.
"It doesn't feel like two years, does it?" Kaden asked, watching me. "It doesn't feel like any time at all."
I wanted to go to him, sit on his lap, put my arms around him, kiss the top of his head. Whatever it was that had been there between us in high school was still there, a current of electricity snapping between us that I wasn't in any way sure I would be able to resist. So I stayed where I was, watching the seeds flit by.
"It doesn't," I agreed. "It's actually kind of scary, huh?"
I could see him out of the corner of my eye, but I was almost too afraid to look at him. He was still the same person he'd been but there were small differences. He was less gangly - not that Kaden was ever gangly, but he was even more muscular, more solid - and his face had hardened a little, settled into the angles and lines of adult masculinity in a way it hadn't quite finished doing when we were still at Reinhardt together. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with 'Brooks Football' in faded lettering across the chest.
"It feels so strange to be sitting here with you. But at the same time it feels like we've been sitting here for ages, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding in agreement. "How's college going?"
Kaden managed a small smile. "If you'd asked me that question four days ago I could have talked your ears off. Don't feel bad, it probably would have been pretty boring for you. But now, I don't know, it just doesn't seem to matter much."
"The draft is next month, isn't it?" I asked, thinking maybe distraction would be a good idea. Get his mind off the present.
He nodded and I made the mistake of looking at him. He was leaning back in the lawn chair, which looked comically tiny holding up his huge frame and it hit me in a sudden blast of undeniable truth that nothing about the way my body reacted to Kaden Barlow had changed. Nothing. I quickly looked away again, feeling a little ashamed of myself for even having feelings like that when things were so messed up for him. The glass of whiskey was still in my hand so I took another sip.
"Do you like that?" He asked.
I laughed as the whiskey burned a trail of fire down my throat. "Not really."
"It's my dad's. He used to lock that stuff up when I still lived here. It still feels like I'm doing something really wrong drinking their liquor."
We sat out on the back porch for a couple of hours, until I realized it was getting close to time for me to go home.
"Don't go," Kaden said, when I brought it up. "I'll pay for delivery. Please, Tasha..."
I had had another small glass of whiskey by then and the mood between Kaden and I had changed a little, softened up. I knew it wasn't a good idea to stay.
"Rosa has allergies," I told him. "Delivery won't work." I paused, fighting with myself. Then I looked down at Kaden and told him not to worry, that I would come back over after I'd gone home to make dinner.
"Will you?" He asked. We were standing at the front door waiting for the taxi he'd called to show up.