Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash
July 2009
Owen loved Kaya quickly. It wasn’t a crush or an infatuation. More than anything, It was an appreciation—one that was beyond most teenage boys’ capacity—for the beautifully complex young woman she was. He dated many girls with a certain effort about them that he found lacking. They wanted to be something other than themselves and that desire was like a cloak concealing whoever and whatever they really were. Any depth within them was unreachable, as if they were ashamed of it.
Kaya didn’t seem ashamed. She put forth little effort, if any. She was breathtaking but she dressed according to what she liked, punk rock bands, not in any attempt to make other people like her. She was goofy and thoughtful with a thorny past that Owen eagerly wondered about.
“So what’s the deal with your dad?” he asked her one day as she sat at his kitchen island doodling on her canvas sneakers.
She was quiet for a moment, then chuckled. “I should ask you the same.”
Owen chuckled back, realizing he should’ve expected a non-answer from her. By then, Kaya was familiar with the Kalligan household’s mode of functioning. Mindy spent money, primarily on the house and herself, and Alistair worked. Laura, like Kaya, sought meaning in music, while Owen and his younger brothers—twins Lucas and Landon—zealously played ice hockey in attempts to win their father’s attention and admiration.
Interestingly, the whole family had grown comfortable with Kaya’s frequent presence. Even Alistair, upon returning from business trips to find her rummaging through his pantry, smiled at having left for the trip days earlier with her doing the same thing.
Landon and Lucas appreciated her help with their Spanish homework, and Mindy was grateful for the dark cloud of loneliness that seemed to have lifted from Laura’s disposition upon her befriending Kaya.
“I don’t know much about my dad,” Kaya eventually said quietly. “He left when I was like two.”
They were both quiet for a long time. Then Owen murmured, “My dad just leaves over and over again.”
“Yea,” she nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “I noticed.”
Laura walked in then and the two girls immediately clambered up to her room, leaving Owen to wish his sister could’ve stayed gone longer. Kaya, somehow, always seemed just out of his reach.
He arrived home from hockey several evenings later to find Laura crying and furiously texting at the kitchen table as Mindy, fixing herself a drink, insisted she was overreacting.
“Laura, dear. I’m sure she’s fine. Everyone has hard days.”
Typically, with the exception of Kaya, Owen steered clear of his sister’s world. Laura was quiet and private and had a way of making him—what with his natural liveliness—feel like he was too much. But Laura never cried and his curiosity was piqued.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, reaching into a bag of chips and shoving a handful into his mouth.
Laura sniffled. “Something happened with Kaya.”
Owen looked at Mindy who shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Teenage girls,” she mumbled, and whisked upstairs to take a bath.
“What do you mean ‘something happened’?” Owen pressed her.
“We were supposed to go to a concert in Brooklyn and she backed out at the last minute. She’s been weird for days. I don’t know.” She shook her head and looked back at her phone to continue texting. Owen reached down, grabbed it out of her hands and began reading the conversation. “Owen, seriously?” Laura exclaimed in her quiet, nonthreatening tone.
His eyes skimmed the conversation, most of which consisted of Laura asking questions and Kaya replying with aimless phrases, such as “I don’t want to do anything” and “I can’t even move”. He continued scrolling intently until he saw Kaya’s most recent text: “Laur I feel so empty I sortof want to die”. Owen inhaled deeply and, then tapped on Kaya’s contact info to find her home address. He set his sister’s phone back down on the table and walked briskly out the door, leaving Laura in bewildered stillness on her own.
His whole ride to the Bronx, Laura called over and over, worried about Kaya being mad that she’d shared anything with Owen. But he ignored every call. His heart was resolute as he gritted his teeth in frustration at the cabbie’s non-urgent driving.
Finally, he hopped out and ran the remaining five blocks to Kaya’s building in the Bronx. As he hustled up the outside staircase, he heard emphatic Spanish speaking and realized it was Martina outside their apartment on the phone. She looked up as he approached.
“Owen?”
“Is Kaya here?”
“Espere,” she said into the phone, and took it away from her ear. “Yes. She is.”
“Can I speak with her, please?”
Martina studied the young man for a moment. She always had her guard up with the Kalligan family, but the boy’s kind, blue eyes looked sincere and eager and she didn’t want a reason for the family to dismiss her cleaning services. Plus, she hoped maybe he’d lift Kaya from the sudden darkness she’d sunken into recently.
“She’s inside” she said, pointing to the door behind her. She stood up and walked down to the next flight of stairs to continue her conversation.
Owen approached the door and knocked softly.
“What is it?” Kaya asked in a small, tired voice from inside. Owen opened the door and stuck his head in.
“It’s me.” He was struck by the scarcity and somberness of the tiny room that comprised Martina and Kaya’s apartment. It was totally dark, except for the numbers on a clock and a string of lights hanging over one of the beds where Kaya leaned back, hugging her knees. There was no sound, only silence that carried a loneliness and despair that were palpable.
“Owen? What do want?”
“To see you.”
“Who sent you?”
“No one sent me. I came on my own.” She glared at him, hesitant and untrusting. “Can I come in?” he asked.