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'It's perfect justice: natures like yours are hardest on themselves.'
―
He stumbles into the kitchen; fresh-faced like a fawn. The newly graduated little prince.
He looks nothing like Logan. Still too high on life, fed on lies and promises, thinking he’ll rule the world one day.
Giggling and yelling something to his friends, he washes his hands. Water drips down his tan body, trunks soaked and tight around his slim hips.
She notices the freckles spattered across his back and shoulders, like a constellation, as if his destiny had been engraved in his skin since birth.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” she says.
Kendall looks at her like she’s shot him right between the eyes. And it would be easy to do just that. To slaughter all his hope with just one precisely aimed shot. It might be the reason she’s drawn to him in the first place. Why anyone is.
“I’m sorry?” he laughs.
“Rhea Jarrell,” she replies, extending her hand towards him.
“We’ve met before.”
“Yes, right. I know.”
“I was afraid you’d forgotten.”
“Nah. No way. Not the kind of thing one would forget.”
“You’ve grown up.”
“Have for a while now. Had been back then.”
“I don’t think you believe that. I don’t think you believe that now.”
“What do you mean?”
“How’s your father been?”
It’s excruciatingly difficult to try and move about the place in silence when you’re high out of your mind. Naomi has wandered off and left him to find his own way back to his room.
He must be going at a faster speed than he’d anticipated because it seems as if the wall runs into him instead of the other way around. Kendall grabs hold of a side table, almost knocking over the vase, managing to save it just in time, but does it with the necessary loud cursing.
Rhea steps out of her room, looking for the offending sound. She looks tiny standing there in the middle of the corridor, like a single lighthouse in the vastness of the sea. Kendall has always liked the idea of getting lost at sea. Like Moses in the basked, left behind to float on the waves, in search of a new home.
She spots him and Kendall puts his finger to his lips.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” he whispers.
She’s got her arms crossed over her robe, so it’s a redundant question.
“Shouldn’t you?” she bites back, but with the hint of a smile. She always has this way of softening the blow, no matter what she says.
“Wanna tuck me in, mom?” he blurts out. It’s like something in the back of his head is yelling at him to stop, to shut the fuck up, and yet it’s in his nature to ruin things.
“Mom?” she repeats, because she can’t just let it go, let it be a joke, she has to get to the bottom of it, dig into the mess of him. “Are you high right now?”
“Yep,” he pops the P with such satisfaction. Kendall grins, looking her up and down in an attempt to throw her of balance, but this stubborn little woman does not budge.
“You should go to bed,” Rhea says.
“You should come with me.”
She’s smiling again and it’s infuriating because he doesn’t know what she’s thinking. She’s hiding something behind that serene smile, and he wants to know what it is. Is there a storm brewing? Is he about to be hit? Get yelled at? Kissed? The not knowing makes his body shake, teleporting him straight to his childhood, staring at his father’s back, trying to decipher what kind of response he should anticipate. Whatever it is, at least he won’t run. He’ll face it, straight on, like he’s always done.
Rhea cups the side of his face, ignoring his twitch of surprise.
“No need for all that,” she says. “I will always think of you as that sweet young man in the kitchen. You’re a good boy, Kendall. No need to pretend to be anything else.”
He absorbs the words, wishing to digest them directly from her lips and have him choke on them.
“You know what I think?” he says. “I think you’re something fucking evil.”
“There’s no such thing. Dragons, princesses and evil. You’d have known that if you were a grown-up.”
He doesn’t think she means to laugh at him or call him childish. She’s saying something else.
“I don’t need you to educate me on the world, Rhea.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the world is bullshit.”
She laughs. Kendall grins too, happy he’s able to go toe-to-toe with her, even in his fucked-up state.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” she says. She hugs him then and Kendall is too stunned to react, just takes it, hoping he’ll be able to remember it come morning. The way she feels wrapped around him, the scent of her hair, crisp and sweet like apples.
“Off to bed now,” she all but orders him and this time he listens because what else is he to do. She knows best.
He wishes to be alone and ends up in another empty hallway with her again. The excitement has long worn off. It's left him deflated.
“If it isn’t the flown-in entertainment. Where’s your girlfriend? I would’ve liked to have met her.”
“Yeah – no, that’s not – a thing anymore, I guess.”
“You were deliriously happy for about a day, that must be some kind of record.”
“Yes, well, I know why I was trying to get away from everyone. Why are you?”
She looks at the floor, her smile all scrunched up now.
“I thought I was doing something nice for him. But I supposed I was perhaps mistaken.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Kendall shrugs emptying his champagne and bends over to leave his glass on the floor somewhere off to the side. “In some sick way you probably did him a favour, giving him an excuse to be mad, it’s the best gift you could’ve given him.”
“It’s hard to believe that.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, I mean it,” she says, her hand on his chest, fingers idly fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. The memory of the first time they’d met assaults him full force. “Your father comes from an entirely different world. That’s why you’ll never see eye to eye. It’s like trying to explain space travel to a caveman.”
“Right,” he repeats hesitatingly, the taste of the champagne coating the inside of his mouth, sticking to his tongue like a ray of sunlight caught in his throat. He’s guzzled champagne and wine and his father’s scotch since he’d been a child. He’s come to associate the pleasant buzz with his family’s summer vacation when he’d look up at the sun beaming down on him and open his mouth to catch its warmth, try and swallow something light and sweet.
“You okay?” Rhea asks, popping his balloon, pulling him back into this artificially lit hallway. Not nearly as bright and wonderful as the pull of nostalgia.
Kendall looks at her. He likes her dress, her hair, her smile. She’s like a little ray of sunshine and a sliver of nostalgia all rolled into one. A pocket-sized Alice he’d love to carry around.
“Yeah – Yeah, I think so…” he murmurs, lips barely parted, just a string of sound leaving his mouth.
“Are you sure?” she teases. Because surely this is what they’d always gunned for. "I have to say, I'm not joking when I say I enjoyed your performance. You looked very handsome up on that stage."
"Thanks, I think..."
All he knows is that he wants to swallow her light, to feel it beaming beneath his chest. Either that or feel it cocoon him, keep him warm and safe inside.
Whether he’s the one to get closer is debatable. Her hand on his chest keeps him at bay though. She says his name again, and he has his eyes closed because he knows what’s coming, the rejection hangs heavy in the air like the smoke from his father’s cigars.
“Could you -” Kendall reasons with her. “Would you mind meeting me at my place for a drink tonight? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
The look in her eyes is that of someone too clever to fall into the rabbit hole. Still, she caves for some reason and sighs. “Sure. No problem.”
Upon entering, she doesn’t comment on the nice place he’s got here, foregoes all the cliché small talk. Instead, she simply stands there, hands clasped together, looking out the window of his million-dollar apartment.
Kendall watches her face light up at the sight of the city. He cannot imagine her living somewhere gauche like this, figures she must have a tasteful townhouse somewhere on the Upper East Side.
“You didn’t bring me here to talk, did you?” she asks, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
He feels naked every time he looks at her, feeling like she’s stripping him down to the bone with her all-knowing gaze.
“I guess not,” he replies truthfully.
They stand there side by side for a while, until their reflections in the window melt into one indecipherable cloud of colour.
He might’ve pulled her in by the waist first, or maybe it was her hand on his arm which was the catalyst, either way, when they come together it’s all champagne fizz and childhood dreams. The light at the end of the tunnel, if he dared to be so corny.
“Rhea Jarrell,” she replies, extending her hand towards him.
Kendall didn’t know there was someone visiting. He could hear his friends making a havoc by the pool, water splashing and cheerful voices shouting, celebrating graduating, being young, alive and incredibly wealthy. The world is your oyster and all that bullshit.
So, he’s taken back when the woman appears behind him. One of his dad’s colleagues or friends which is the same thing coincidentally.
“I’m Kendall,” he mumbles sheepishly. He’s more than a little buzzed, drunk on the vodka coolers Stewy brought.
“Yes, I know who you are,” she says, all white teeth like a shark. Or a barracuda. The skinny kind. The kind Kendall tends to go for. “I hear congratulations are in order then.”
“Yeah – yes, thank you.”
“Have you given any thought to what you’ll be doing next?”
He frowns, wondering if his father has discussed it with her. Everyone assumes he’ll follow in his father’s footsteps, what else is he to do? Kendall slicks back his wet hair, weirdly conscious about his lack of shirt.
“You still have time, don’t worry about it,” she interjects sensing that he doesn’t know what to say. “I want to wish you well and hope you’ll have an illustrious career of your own, whatever you decide to do next. From what I’ve heard you’re quite the bright young man.”
“Thank you,” he replies sincerely. “That’s – I appreciate that.”
“I remember you from when you were a child, running around Logan’s office.”
“I didn’t – I didn’t know – I don’t remember.”
“Yes, well, that was a while ago. You’re all grown-up now.”
Kendall nods along. Even though she’s older than him, she has to look up because of their height difference. But if she’s tough enough to hang with his dad then she’s more than his equal. Kendall’s intrigued either way. And currently still dripping onto the marble floor underneath his feet.
“I eh…” he parts his lips.
“I hope to see you around sometime,” she says like sealing a deal, imprinting on him. This moment in time, marking a new beginning, the start of many boyish fantasies playing out in the privacy of his bedroom, the yearning that’s to come.
In these fantasies, she’ll force him against the counter, kiss him stupid, his own hands all over her, ruining her perfectly tailored suit. She’ll say he tastes of chlorine and vodka, that he’s such a good boy while she stuffs her hand in his shorts.
And he’ll tell himself that he’ll be prepared for it the next time they meet. He’ll carve out a chunk of the world for himself, make her proud.
“I’m telling you now. It’s always been you.”