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September 2003
“Ken, will you hand me that teapot?” I reached across the string of card tables and metal folding tables that stretched from one side of Ken’s back patio to the other with my hand out.
We’d covered them in white tablecloths to make it look like one long, elegant table, but since there was nothing we could do about the mismatched chairs, I’d just decided to make it a theme.
Ken glanced down into the box of equally mismatched teapots that I’d collected from every thrift and antique store in the county. “Which one?”
“The blue-and-white one.” I flicked my fingers at him impatiently.
Ken raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips.
“Ugh! Please!”
Ken gave me a satisfied smirk and handed over the vessel.
In the two months since my altercation with Knight, Ken and I had settled into a comfortable routine. I stayed there almost every night. He packed lunches for me on the days that I had school. I gave him psychological tests when he was slow at work. He watched Sex and the City with me on Sunday nights. Life was surprisingly good, and the only thing that had changed was my attitude.
Ken and I had spent the morning picking wildflowers in a nearby field and arranging them in the teapots I’d collected.
When I’d asked him if he would help me host a wedding shower for Allen and Amy, Ken hadn’t hesitated to say yes. But, of course, his brand of help involved borrowing all the tables and chairs from his neighbors, trading movie passes with the manager of a local pizza place in exchange for free food and buying all of the drinks, plates, and napkins at bulk prices through the theater. All in, I think the entire party cost us less than a hundred bucks.
“I left that questionnaire on top of your backpack,” Ken said, handing me another flower-filled teapot. “That one asked some fucked up questions.”
I laughed. “Yeah, that one screens for all kinds of fun disorders.”
“Bed-wetting though? Really?”
I grinned. “Bed-wetting, fire-starting, shoplifting, cruelty to animals…let’s see…what else? Bloodplay…” My face fell as I thought about someone else who fit that description. “They can all be symptoms of childhood trauma or mental illness.”
“I think I’m good then. The only one I answered yes to was self-flagellation, and that’s only because you won’t do it for me.”
“Oh my God!” I cackled, swatting at him across the table. My fingertips grazed the soft cotton of his vintage Braves T-shirt. “You’re such a masochist. That’s what it’s gonna tell me. It’s gonna say, Kenneth Easton is a stage-five masochist. Get out while you still can.”
I watched the jovial smile slip from Ken’s face just before Amy burst through the back door with a, “Haaaaay!” dragging her fiancé, best friend, and sister from Arizona behind her.
At one point, we had about twenty-five people gathered on the patio—guys on one side, shouting at the TV, which Ken had dragged outside, every time John Smoltz struck somebody out, andgirls on the other side, oohing and aahing over Amy’s three-inch-thick wedding planner. Citronella torches kept the mosquitoes away as we drank pink punch—generously spiked, thank you very much—and admired her collection of fabric swatches and wedding dress photos and magazine cutouts and invitation samples.
I smiled and nodded, pretending to be happy for her, but the entire time, I was dreaming about the day that I’d have my own three-ring binder to fill. Glancing over at the opposite end of the table, I watched Ken, smiling his movie-star smile, as he laughed with his friends. Our friends.
We could do this every weekend, I thought.
I glanced at his deep, wooded backyard, dotted with fireflies and blooming azalea bushes, and tried to picture where the swing set would go. I glanced at my ring finger and imagined a princess cut diamond twinkling back at me.
I was happy there, with Ken. He made me laugh and he made me crazy and he made me a better version of myself. But, most of all, he made me want things that I wasn’t sure he could give me. Things he didn’t believe in.
Things like weddings and babies and magic.
I just hoped I believed in them enough for the both of us.
