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No, Kennedy wasn’t exactly comfortable with that. Her list was private. She’d always had a difficult time opening up to people. She was a master at surface-level conversation. A queen of small talk and an incredible listener, which helped her greatly in her career as a real estate agent. People tended to open up to her, and she had a gift of reading between the lines and hearing what her clients weren’t saying as loudly as what they were.
But as far as letting people behind the curtain of her own wants, dreams, and desires, she would rather roll around naked on a bed of needles.
Anne sat silently, waiting for Kennedy to decide whether or not she would be sharing with the class. As fiercely private as Kennedy was, she was equally—possibly even slightly more—of a by-the-book rule-following, people-pleasing, perfectionist.
Logically, Kennedy knew that Anne was her therapist, not her teacher. But emotionally, she put her in that category, and she wanted to pass her sessions with flying colors. She’d been the student in class who had done the extra credit even when she had all As. She was the first person to sign up to work the booth for the real estate office at festivals. She was the person who volunteered to bake the cookies for the church bake sale or to wash the cars for the car wash fundraiser.
So as badly as she wanted to keep her requirements to herself, she wanted to ace this session even more.
Kennedy took a deep breath and tried to filter out her top ten. “I want someone who comes from a tight-knit family.” Since she’d grown up as an only child with an absentee father and her mother had passed away when she was a preteen, she wanted something more for her kids. She wanted them to have cousins and grandparents and a house full of love and laughter. “And he needs to have a college degree in something. I don’t care if it’s theater, fine art, ancient Roman history, or something else equally obscure. I just want them to have the piece of paper to show that they can finish something.”
Anne nodded her head.
“I want someone who is kind. Empathetic. Employed full-time. Financially independent and even-tempered. He needs to be funny and dance. He doesn’t have to dance well, but I want to be with someone who will get on the floor. He has to want marriage and kids. He needs to have a passion for something. It can be a hobby or even just that he loves movies or music, but he has to love something. He needs to be a good communicator and a good listener. And he doesn’t need to be traditionally good-looking, but we need to have chemistry. I want to rip his clothes off him.” Kennedy stopped at fifteen. She could have just said ten, but she was going for the extra credit.
“Okay, good.” Anne tilted her head to the side and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Switching gears, have you seen or spoken to your father lately?”
Kennedy had a feeling Anne’s preface to that question was not exactly truthful. She may not have a degree from Harvard, but she was pretty sure her issues with men stemmed from the first man in her life, her father. Michael Dawes was a lying, cheating, manipulator who also happened to be a charming, charismatic, con artist who stood six foot four with leading man good looks and a nonexistent conscience.
It was a lethal combination. Literally.
Technically, Kennedy’s mother had died from cancer, but Kennedy believed that her declining health was directly linked to her father’s behavior.
From the age of zero to nine, Kennedy had witnessed her parents’ cycle of toxic behavior countless times. Her dad would show up, stay for a few months, make a bunch of promises he’d never keep, drain her mother financially and emotionally, and then disappear. Every time he left, her mom sank into a deeper depression lasting anywhere from weeks to months and, the last time, years. She wouldn’t get out of bed. She wouldn’t eat or even shower.
If it hadn’t been for Nana, who was her paternal grandmother, showing up and caring for Kennedy whenever her son would pull one of his disappearing acts, Kennedy’s life would have looked a lot different. One time, it was nearly a week before Nana showed up because she’d gone on a cruise. Kennedy survived on a stale loaf of bread, Cheez-It crackers, and tap water. She was five at the time. Her grandma never took a vacation without her again.
Then, at nine, her mom was diagnosed with cancer. She battled for two years before passing away when Kennedy was eleven. Then she went to live with Nana full-time. Her life had been steadier after that, but the scars from her early childhood were there. They showed up in her insecurities around her peers and in her fierce need for privacy.
As an adult, it was obvious to Kennedy that her mom suffered from mental health issues, but at the time, Kennedy had just thought her mom was sad, and that’s what people did when they were sad. She blamed her father for her mom’s behavior.
Maybe that was unfair. But hey, at least she was in counseling trying to figure her shit out.
“He’s still around, but no, I haven’t spoken to him.”
Kennedy had seen her father around town for the past six months. He’d shown up in Whisper Lake and had been visiting Nana a lot. She didn’t know what he wanted or what his angle was for sticking around this long, but she did know that he wanted something; he was just playing the long game.
Michael Dawes was a lot of things. A swindler. A hustler. A womanizer. A thief. But a caring, loving son he was not. Nana didn’t like to say a bad word about anyone, especially her own son. But as she got older, she told more stories. She told Kennedy that Michael had always been a rascal. He’d been mischievous, but it wasn’t until after he’d had an accident at work when Kennedy was only a month old that his behavior had really changed.
Kennedy wasn’t sure if it was the accident or her birth that had been the catalyst for her dad’s behavior change, and honestly, she didn’t care. She didn’t want anything to do with him and wished he would just do what he did best and disappear.
“Has he tried to initiate a conversation with you?”
“Yes.” Kennedy shifted in her chair uncomfortably as her phone vibrated on the cushion beside her. Normally, she turned it off in sessions, but Nana hadn’t been feeling well, so she’d kept it on; she just put it on silent.
When she saw Laura’s name pop up, she picked it up and told Anne, “It’s Laura.”
Anne nodded her head as Kennedy answered.
“Hey girl, I was just—”
“Kennedy…” Laura’s voice was shaking.
“Hold on one second.” Kennedy covered the phone. “Sorry, I need to take this.” She stepped outside of the office. “Hey, is everything okay? Did you go to the doctor?”
“Yep.”
“And…” Kennedy held her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Laura had been suffering from flu-like symptoms for the past few weeks that she hadn’t been able to shake. Kennedy’s mom had been sick with flu-like symptoms, and then two years later she was gone.
