Truth In Wildflowers Page 6

  Pop. When will you be done with your little dancing hobby?

  Pop. Bethany can help you study.

  Pop. You don’t need me to go with you, practice more independence.

  I scrunched my eyes together and banished my dad’s negativity. Lying back on my bed, I pulled out my cell to call my mom.

  We didn’t talk as often as I’m sure she would like us to, but I made sure to call her every weekend and check in on how things were going. Being that it had just been she and I for so long, we have developed a strong bond. Even in my teen years when I quietly rebelled, she and I maintained a healthy relationship. She is everything someone could want in a mother. She celebrated when I succeeded, guided me when I faltered, and supported me when I fell. It’s clear now why she and my dad never worked out. They are complete opposites, and not in a good way. “Baby Girl!” My mom chirped into the phone.

  “Hi, Mom. What’s going on?”

  “Oh the usual, sweetie. Working and missing you.” From the outside looking in some might think our relationship to be a bit codependent. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. My mom is insanely strong on her own. She’s devoted the last couple of years to helping me adjust to her divorce, and then to helping me grow up. Now that I’m gone, I think she has to remember how to live for herself again.

  “Did you sign up for the online dating thing I suggested, Mom? “

  “No, that stuff is not for me, and my daughter certainly doesn’t need to worry about it.” She scoffed through the phone.

  “Mom, I’m not worried. I think you should start having some fun again. Meet someone you can go out to dinner with or see a movie with. Try to meet some people you want to spend time with outside of work.” I tried to not sound pushy.

  “Well, look who’s being schooled by their daughter.”

  “Don’t say schooled, Mom.”

  She laughed, “I know, and you’re right. I don’t want you worrying about me though. Make sure you are having fun and getting the most out of college. Oh! You have that interview today right?” She asked cutting herself off.

  “Yep, I’m leaving here in about an hour.”

  “Good luck, sweetie. I’m sure you will do great. Are you nervous?”

  “Not really. I’m just curious about what the job entails. I’m ready for something new, and who knows, maybe it will help me figure out what to do with myself in the long run.” I started to sound exasperated.

  “Oh Kensie, we’ve talked about this. You’ll find your direction. Sometimes it’s not so much about looking for it, but about patiently waiting for it. Just keep working hard like you’ve always done and you will get there.” She reassured me. She’s always been great at that. Making me feel like what I do is enough.

  “Thanks Mom, I love you. I’ll let you know how the interview goes.” I hung up from my conversation from my mom feeling motivated and ready for this interview. I dressed in a casual black pencil skirt with red flats and a white tee shirt. I threw on my yellow floral scarf to dress the whole thing up. It wasn’t a job at a law firm, after all. One quick touch up of my straightened hair and I was out the door.

  * * *

  My text alert dinged at me as I parked my Accord behind the youth building. I pulled out my phone and sucked in a breath at the name shining on the screen along with a snapshot of his gorgeous face.

  August put his number in my phone last night as “Humpty” when I had gone to the concession stand. I didn’t notice until he texted me when Lennon and I had gotten in for the night. He merely texted “Goodnight, Kensie.” After the way we had left each other at the game, the text was a welcome surprise. I lied in bed awake for another two hours after looking into those chocolate eyes on my phone. I may or may not have pulled up my phone list a few more times just to admire him before I fell asleep. A battle between head and heart was being waged. Heart rooted for me to let go of the past and give into August, head rooting for me to walk away.

  Humpty: Truth or Dare?

  Me: Isn’t a dare negligible since you can’t see if I’ll actually perform it?

  Humpty: I knew you’d pick truth. :)

  How'd he know? Of course I was going to pick truth. Truths are only as honest as the person telling them. I hadn't decide how honest I wanted to be with August yet, so I'd hide behind half-truths and omissions if need be. I answered him quickly as I walked around the corner to the front of the San Diego Youth Center, or S.Y.C.

  Me: Truth

  Humpty: Favorite flower?

  Me: Rose

  Unoriginal, I know, but they're my favorite. Especially Mr. Lincoln's. They smell heavenly. I turned off my phone and pulled down my skirt before walking into the tall brick building. I didn’t want to show too much leg. Or maybe I did. Does leg get you a job? I bet some thigh does with the right interviewer. What the hell am I thinking? This is a youth center. I pulled the neck of my shirt up a bit for good measure.

  I checked in for the interview at the front desk and took a seat off to the side. The room was small with only a few plastic chairs along one wall. The room wreaked of old stuff. Old teacher desk, old carpet, old woman picking at her blue hair behind the old desk. I doubt she knew she was fluffing her hair with an Afro pick.

  As I waited, I peeked through the window behind me into the gym. On one side, kids played basketball with one of the leaders. The other half of the court had a group of teens sprawled out on yoga mats stretching their legs.

  “Kensington, John is ready for you.” Ick. I cringed at the pretentious family name my dad chose for me.

  The receptionist slowly, slowly, slowly, led me to a tiny and musty office down the hall. Holy shit. I’d be fluffing my own blue hair with an Afro pick by the time we get there. I did get a chance to take in closed door after closed door on the way. Perhaps one was the door to my classroom.

  I nearly ran into the puff of blue hair when she stopped abruptly and pointed to the only open door without saying a word. I briefly wondered if working here with a bunch of teens had sucked the life right out of her. Yikes.

  I peered around the doorframe before walking in and was greeted by tall gentlemen. John, I assumed.

  “Kensington, pleasure to meet you. I’m the Youth Director, John.” Nailed it.

  He was quite handsome for an older man. I guessed close to my mom's age with his deep smile lines and salt and pepper hair. He had warm eyes that soothed my pacing heart.

  “You can call me Kensie, and thank you for calling me for the interview.”

  I managed to survive the basic interview questions. I answered them all honestly, and John seemed pleased. When he asked me about my hobbies outside of work and school, I shoved my father’s condescending voice aside.

  “I like to dance. I’ve been dancing since I was four.” I answered holding my breath for his reply.

  “Hmmm,” John said tapping his pen against his chin while looking at this clipboard. Here it comes, my moment of rejection. “Might work.” The breath of air escaped my lips in a whoosh. “We're looking for a dance instructor for our fourteen to sixteen year old girl class. A lot of young women in the class come from some tough backgrounds. They are great kids, but it sometimes takes a lot of patience when dealing with them. Might be a good fit for you if you are up to the challenge?” He cocked one eyebrow at me in question.

  “That sounds great, actually.” I answered straight away unable to hide my grin. “I have a lot of experience in leadership when it comes to dance. I was the captain of my high school dance team. I even taught the tiny tot class at the studio I went too. I know they weren’t teenagers, but I’m sure it takes about the same amount of patience. I’d love to give it a shot.” Belonging murmured through my veins, fracturing the walls forged within them.

  John smiled standing up from his seat and I followed, “Brilliant. We’re glad to have you as a part of our team. I think you'll be a fine mentor for these girls. From what I’ve seen in this interview, you are a very responsible young woman.” I smiled at h
im and shook his hand. Responsible? I wasn't sure about that, but I wouldn't let him down.

  Before I left the youth center John gave me all of my new employee paperwork and wrote me in on the schedule to start immediately. I’d be teaching my first class at the center tomorrow. I withheld myself from doing a little jig in celebration.

  Powering my phone back on during the walk back to my car, it pinged relentlessly with messages.

  Humpty: Roses. Okay. Favorite Song?

  Humpty: No? First kiss?

  Humpy: Too much too soon?

  I giggled and texted August back immediately, still buzzing from my interview.

  Me: Sorry, was at a meeting. Song Dave Matthews, Crush. First kiss, Jake Turner-eighth grade, horribly sloppy and awkward.

  Humpty: Oh, poor Jake. It was probably one of the best moments of his life.

  Me: I doubt it. I head butted him on the way in.

  Humpty: Rookie mistake. I’m sure you’ve improved since then.

  Hot. Hot in here. I turned up the AC full blast. For me, kissing always had been a means to an end. It was the necessary step towards getting through the emptiness. When I thought about kissing August, my mind went numb in an entirely different way. All my thoughts, my worries, were obliterated the moment I found his lips near mine. Maybe it was because we’d come so close to it, but hadn’t kissed yet, or maybe it was just him. Either way there was something about August, and about the magnetic pull between us that turned my mind down enough to feel.

  Me: Wouldn’t you like to find out?

  Okay, too brave. I needed to take it back a step.

  Me: I mean, maybe you wouldn’t.

  Me: That’s okay. It doesn’t matter.

  Shit. I need to shut up now.

  Me: Let’s not talk about my kissing habits anymore.

  Oh god. I scared him off with my rapid-fire texts.

  Humpty: You’re cute when you ramble, but you’re right. I’m dying to find out. Shit, I can’t think about anything else.

  I dropped my head against my horn releasing a honk and making the receptionist who was now walking by, jump. Her blue hair didn’t move an inch with the motion. I waved and apology at her and watched her lift two wrinkly fingers up to her mouth and waggle her tongue in between them. I did a double take to make sure I saw that right, and sure enough that tongue flicked back and forth between the split digits. I was both impressed and horrified. Those teens hadn’t sucked the life out of her after all. They made her a Granny gone wild.

  Maybe it was the high from scoring the job, or maybe I fed off energy of porn granny, but I had a bout of bravery thundering in my heart.

  Me: Me either.

  I stamped my feet on the floorboard. I'm going for it. I'm going to put myself out there and see where this thing with August, whatever it is, goes. What’s the worst that can happen in a text message anyway? If he doesn’t respond favorably, then I can play it off without having him see the humiliation splayed across my face.

  On the way back to my dorm I couldn’t stop thinking about August. His eyes, his tall body, his humor, and the effortless way he consumed my mind. As hard as I tried last night to find a reason to not be interested in him, it became clear to me that there was something there between us. The chemistry was undeniably there, but if I wanted to explore something more, something deeper, then I had to give it a chance.

  Squeezing my way into a parking spot I heard a text come up. I mean really, can they draw the lines on the parking spots any closer? Ping, another text went off. My stomach flittered.

  Humpty: I’m kind of busy.

  Flitter meet Plummet. Could he sound anymore irritated, and why on earth was he texting me if he’s busy? I'm such an idiot. Don’t be reckless with a stroke of luck, Kensington.

  Humpty: Okay, I can be there in thirty minutes.

  Wait. I'm confused. He’s coming over? Another ping.

  Humpty: Sorry, Kensie gotta cut our convo short. Talk to you soon though. ☺

  What's below a plummet? That's where my heart just fell. He wasn't texting me, well not knowingly. He had texted me on accident. I should be embarrassed for him, but I was humiliated for myself. I stared at the messages thinking about telling him he texted the wrong person, but I chose to let it go. I didn’t want to come off as being too concerned, even though my mind was already running a marathon of possibilities. Who was he meeting in thirty minutes?

  Rejection teased my thoughts. If a miscommunicated text message brought it out, I couldn’t imagine how I would feel if he didn’t want to be with me after learning about my past. This is exactly why I didn’t let anyone penetrate my carefully constructed wall. The possibility of being rejected terrified me.

  “How did it go? How did it go?” Lennon excitedly greeted me when I walked into the room. Her excitement was contagious and reminded me what a great morning I had.

  “I got the job! I start tomorrow teaching the dance class.”

  “Say what?” she exclaimed, “Kensie, that’s perfect for you. Good things happenin' Kens, good things.”

  “It’s just a job Len.” But it felt like more than just a job. In a way, it was a piece of that fresh start I'd been after since moving away for college.

  “A new job, and new man, maybe a new sexual appetite will follow?” She grinned waggling her eyebrows at me.

  “I'm not frigid. I’m picky, and I don’t have a new man.” I couldn’t help but sound a bit disappointed after the way my conversation with August had turned out.

  “Oh, you've got him. The guy can’t keep his eyes off you…or hands." She waggled her finger at me this time, "Did you hear from him anymore today?”

  I felt ridiculous admitting how excited I was about my texts with August, but I did. I told Lennon about the flittering I got in my stomach after each ping from my phone. The room fell silent when I told her about the texts I got that weren't meant for me.

  I waited for Lennon to say something, anything. I watched her pace the room kicking at the short rug with her boots. Her silent contemplation was awful. I saw him with a ho bag slut would do.

  She abruptly stopped her pacing and turned to look at me. "Should I grow my hair out?"

  "What?" I yelled at her. She was exasperating, but she laughed. She knew what was going on in my overactive imagination.

  “I don't think you have anything to worry about, Kensie. He could have been texting Wes, or Capri, or even his mother. It’s really not as big of a deal as it feels to you.” She reassured me.

  The thing is I agreed with her. Deep down I knew it was a simple mistake. I needed to hold onto that brief moment of doubt though. I had to grab on tight to it because I couldn’t deny the truth of my attraction to August. He made me want to fall, and see where I landed.

  "Seriously though, should I grow my hair out?" She asked. I laughed and fell backwards onto my bed.

  "Okay, I'll stop thinking now. Hand me my iPod will you?" I needed a little help in not thinking. Only my music and a little mental choreography could take care of that.

  * * *

  I didn’t hear from August the rest of the night. Although, I had gone to bed firm in my decision to keep our relationship on a friend only basis, I ached with regret. I pathetically woke up throughout the night and checked my phone in case I missed a text from him. I hadn’t. Somewhere between dusk and dawn, amidst hope and disappointment, I settled into indifference. I’d found it to be a place where truths were easier to bare.

  My alarm clock buzzed at me for the third time. I set it thirty minutes before I had to be up, so I could push the snooze button a few times before dragging my ass out of bed. Lennon insists my method of rising only increases exhaustion. I disagree. No matter how you slice it, being forced to wake up sucks balls. Yawning, I pulled myself out of bed, and schlepped my way down to the community bathrooms.

  I soaked in the shower longer than usual letting the steam soak up my disappointment. I must have been more upset than I let on because I stayed under the spray un
til the hot water ran out. Even that was refreshing, though, a reminder that relationships often grow cold.

  Tiptoeing back into my dim lit room refreshed and ready to tackle the morning I caught the sight of the message light on my phone blinking. Shit, I hope I remembered to turn the ringer off. Lennon loathed wakeups just as much as I did.

  “Answer his damn messages.” A muffled noise came from the heap on pillows and blankets on Lennon’s bed. “The obnoxious thing won’t shut up.” Oops, ringer was not off.

  “Sorry.” I whispered to Lennon and checked my missed messages. Surprisingly there was one missed call and a missed text message from August. A little too late, I thought to myself.

  Humpty: Sorry for calling so early. I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I hope to hear from you today.

  I found myself satisfied by his apology, but not any more convinced that we should try anything other than a friendship. I opted to ignore his text for now. I had a job to get to.

  * * *

  “This one will be where you teach the dance classes.” John unlocked the doors to one of the rooms I had seen situated off to the side of the gym. “Not much, but nothing here is. Stereo is in the corner, and a storage closet in the back you can store your things in.”

  “It’s perfect.” The hair on my arms rose as my eyes took the room in. The small space appeared larger with an entire wall of mirrors. The stereo sitting on a tiny table next to a metal folding chair. I closed my eyes and took in the faintest trace of resin meandering around the room. It was perfect.

  John chuckled from behind me. “Alright kid, if you say so. I’ll be down the hall if you need anything. The girls should be coming in within the next half hour. Good luck.”

  It had been a while since I had danced in this kind of environment. Unfortunately with my attempts to create a new life for myself, I had neglected this part of it. Dance wasn’t something I needed to change. It was my one saving grace and constant. I should have never let that stray over the last three years. Being back in a space dedicated to dance felt like coming home.