My eyes darted from her to Kiera, standing by the doors, watching. Not too long ago, I would have agreed to go anywhere this woman wanted me to go, but things were different now, and I didn’t want to go anywhere with her. And besides, I couldn’t. I actually did have plans.
“Sorry, I do.” She frowned, so I gave her a kiss on the cheek. Hopefully it was enough to make her happy.
Kiera was in a great mood on the ride home. She was staring at me like she was mesmerized. I wasn’t sure why, until I realized I was quietly singing the last song we’d played.
“I love that one,” she told me. I nodded. I already knew that. No matter what she was doing, she always stopped and listened to “Remember Me” whenever we played it at Pete’s.
“It seems important to you,” she asked, suddenly inquisitive. “Does it mean something?”
She almost seemed embarrassed for asking, like she’d done it without thinking again. Her question caught me off guard, as did her insight. And her concern. Most girls didn’t notice my lyrics when they were around me. “Huh,” was all I could come up with to say.
Of course, that wasn’t enough for her. “What?” she asked, her voice timid.
In that one simple word, I could almost hear her begging me to open up to her. The idea of her knowing what that song meant to me, what I was really singing about, didn’t scare me like it had when I’d first watched her reaction to it. I felt very comfortable with her. I wasn’t comfortable enough to open up and tell her every sob story I had inside me, but I was comfortable enough to not be afraid of confiding small pieces of myself to her. So long as she didn’t ask for too much, and she didn’t push when I didn’t want her to.
With a warm, carefree smile, I told her, “No one’s ever asked me that before. Well, no one outside the band, that is.” I paused, wondering if I wanted to crack open the confession door just yet. “Yes…” I murmured, looking over at her. She blinked and turned my way, her eyes wide with some emotion I couldn’t even begin to place. Losing myself in the shape of her mouth, the shine in her eyes, I let a section of my heart spill out. “It means a lot to me…”
What I’ve hoped all my life to have. What my parents could never give me. What I know I’m not worthy of…someone’s love. That’s what it means to me.
A slice of unexpected pain jarred my heart. I didn’t want to tell Kiera any more, didn’t want more pain to seep out, so I tightened my mental defenses and studied the lines on the road, hoping she would get the hint. Thankfully she didn’t ask me to elaborate. Kiera always seemed to understand when she was pressing on a scar, and I was grateful that she backed off before she tore it open.
I contemplated heading over to Evan’s or Matt’s when we got home, anything to take my mind off the last several minutes, but Kiera’s smile was so warm and inviting when she thanked me for the fun evening that she melted the ice around my heart that had been chilling me. That was what it felt like, anyway. And like she was the sun, I just wanted to be near her, so I stayed.
Having Kiera around was brightening my life in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Like one afternoon, when I came home to find my place completely transformed. It amused me at first. I even laughed when I caught Jenny and Kiera putting up pictures in the kitchen. But as I walked from room to room, I was struck by what they’d done. The odd baskets, art, and photos made the home seem lived in. All of a sudden, it wasn’t just four walls and a roof anymore. It had personality, and the personality belonged to Kiera. The house felt like her.
Even my bedroom.
Stopping in my doorway, I stared into my room, amazed. Hanging on my wall was a Ramones poster. I loved the Ramones. I tried to think back through all of our conversations, but I couldn’t recall ever mentioning that to her. The fact that she saw something while she was out, thought of me, and bought it…well, that was sort of incomprehensible.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something for me out of the blue like that. It wasn’t a holiday, wasn’t a special occasion. It was just Sunday. Sitting on my bed, I stared at the poster, mystified, overwhelmed, and deeply touched.
I heard Jenny say goodbye, and I yelled a goodbye back. Staring at my floor, I thought about how barren my house had looked before Kiera spruced it up. I’d never felt so unimportant in all my life as the day I’d raced back to Seattle and discovered that my parents had basically eradicated me from their life: All my things were gone, no pictures were on the walls, and no mementos were on the shelves. Seeing the effacement was ten times worse than all the times Dad had subtly, and not so subtly, implied how meaningless I was to him; words cut deep, but this cut deeper. There was no way to misinterpret what they’d done.