Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash
July 2009
[continued from Part 3]
Kaya wondered about his motives. She wondered how he knew she needed someone. But every thought she’d had lately concluded with, nothing matters anyway. And so, sniffling and with a confused frown, she nodded. He slowly stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Kaya turned her head to the side and stared out the window into the darkness. Owen approached carefully and sat down on the floor beside her bed, facing away from her. For a while, neither of them spoke. Then, finally, Owen asked her what happened.
Kaya opened her mouth to say something but felt a sob climbing up her throat instead, so she choked it back and remained silent. Owen sat in patience, still not turning to look at her. He knew that observing eyes often felt threatening, and he wanted her to feel only at ease with him. He would’ve sat there beside her all night in utter silence. But finally, she spoke.
“I—I did something,” she whispered, then, feeling foolish, she snickered and in a sharper tone, asked, “Do you really not know anything, Owen?”
He shook his head in confusion, still not turning to face her. “How the hell would I know something?”
“Look at me, then,” she said through clenched teeth. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t know.”
Without an instant of hesitation, he turned to look at her. His abrupt willingness startled her, and she slightly reeled back at his gaze. Her big, dark eyes trembled with fear and childlike vulnerability, cradling her tears. Owen wanted nothing more than to hold her and insist that anything—anything—she could’ve done could never take away from how exquisite he found her, or how pure her heart was. He could lose himself in those eyes.
“Kaya, I swear on my life I have no idea what happened. All I saw was your texts with Laura and I freaked out and came over.”
She searched his face, simultaneously searching her memory for any experience with him that might’ve indicated deception, but all she’d ever felt was his curiosity and adoration. Her heart was shattered and she desperately wanted to trust his intentions to sweep up the pieces. She was hungry for someone in whom she could unfold.
“I’m not gonna tell you anything else,” she said looking down. “I just—did something I feel awful about. But it’s over. This is so dumb, I know.”
Owen knew she could have confessed to murder and his affections for her wouldn’t have decreased in the slightest. He didn’t care at all that she was currently shrouded in misery. In fact, it made his heart hunger for her even more strongly, because of the opportunity it afforded him to rescue her.
“It’s not dumb,” he whispered through a small, side smile, still gazing at her as she wiped her eyes and nose. “You feel how you feel. But I wanna help you be happy.”
“I wish I could erase it all,” she sighed quietly. He watched as her mind raced, and he could tell when her face scrunched up that she was reliving it. He slowly moved up onto her bed, situating himself behind her and wrapping his arms around her, as she began to sob.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed her. “It’s okay. You’re safe, Kaya. You’re gonna be okay. I can take care of you. I mean, I can’t erase it but I can try to make you happy, if you let me.”
She smelled the dried, salty sweat on his arms as they embraced her beneath her neck. It felt surreal, being held by this man she’d spent countless hours around but always very casually. He’d never been her priority at the Kalligan house, but – she realized then that she’d always known it – she’d been his priority since the second he laid eyes on her. She knew he was good deep in his bones; she just didn’t think she deserved good.
“Mija,” Martina’s voice pierced the darkness as she opened the door and stepped inside. “Es tarde,” she told her, flipping on the fluorescent light as Owen stood up. “Owen, you should go.”
“Yeah, I guess I should,” he sighed. He turned to Kaya to speak, but then turned back to Martina. “Mrs. Flores, can I call Kaya tomorrow?”
Martina chuckled. “She has her own phone. That’s her decision.”
“I know but,” he paused. “It would mean a lot if you were okay with it.”
For the second time that evening, Martina studied his face. While she had her opinions about his family, his parents, their business, she had to admit that in Owen she’d always sensed goodwill. And with the frustrating perplexity she felt lately at her daughter’s state of mind, she wondered if time with Owen would do her well. Finally, she smiled.
“I am okay with it, Owen.”
The 18-year-old grinned ear to ear and not knowing what else to do, nodded profusely. “Thank you. That’s really cool of you.” He turned to look at Kaya, who had stopped crying in the midst of the unexpected exchange. “I’m gonna call you tomorrow.”
She nodded with a small smile and with that, he left.
Martina turned to her daughter. “You need to get up. You’ve been in that bed for days, Kaya.”
Her mother had said it countless times but for the first time, Kaya agreed. Now, there seemed to be light at the end of the tunnel she’d been clawing her way through. She pulled the blanket off herself, stood up, and walked toward the kitchen to find something to eat. As she passed by Martina, she paused and gave her a small kiss on the cheek.
“Gracias, Mamá,” she said.