At first, the following days were as past ones. Kevin kept to himself and sought Faith's help only when he felt he needed it. But as time passed, Kevin's need for a friendship outweighed his need for mourning.
Faith was comfortably seated on the living room sofa, clad in the previous night's pajamas - a pair of silk shorts and a plain white T-shirt - when Kevin made his morning appearance. As she looked over the top of the book she was reading, ready to rebuke him for being so scruffy and to "go get some clothes on", she was met with the last thing she expected at eight-thirty in the morning.
Kevin stood leaning on a crutch, wearing a crisp Nike T-shirt and loose jeans, sunglasses perched atop his head and a sneaker on his good foot, his welcoming smile radiating from where he was at the bottom of the stairs. He had shaven for the first time since they had arrived at the house and the clean smell of his after-shave wafted through the room to fill her nostrils. As Faith laid her book down, inhaling deeply, she smiled at him, and took in a final detail, wondering why he had brought that down with him.
"Morning, Faith," he said and took a few slow, stiff steps in her direction, his sunglasses falling down to land low on his nose.
Faith couldn't contain her giggle as he stopped to fix them. "Morning Kev. Maybe you should go back to both. What do you think?" she asked, referring to his struggling awkwardness.
"Crutches?" he asked, trying to verify her statement. "No way. I'll get it. It's only been, what, a day?"
"Two days."
"Okay, it's been two days. So I need a little practice, but I'll get it," he said, and continued to move toward the couch. "Hey, Faith!" he said in a sudden, almost unnecessary, exclamation. "Hope you didn't start breakfast because...look what I found buried in my closet this morning?" He held up his hand, the lightweight object swaying this way and that at the sudden movement.
Faith looked at it and wondered what it had to do with breakfast. "It's a basket, Kev."
He brought the rectangular basket down to his eye level, confusion passing across his face, as if he suddenly realized that the object he meant to bring down was still in his room - that bringing the basket was a careless mistake. But his eyes lingered on the basket for only a second and they quickly shifted to land on Faith, expressing the same confusion, making it clear that his confusion was not with the basket but with Faith's lack of understanding.
"I know it's a basket, Faith," he said, a touch of sarcasm evident in his voice.
"But what does it--"
"What does it have to do with breakfast?" he interrupted, finishing her sentence. "Well, I thought, since we haven't really gotten the opportunity to talk to each other, really, we could pack up a little breakfast and take it out along the beach. Like a little picnic. What do you think?"
Faith sat frozen, dumbfounded. Pack up a little breakfast? Picnic? Talk to each other? Had he lost his mind? They hadn't talked much about anything since the plane ride from Detroit. 'But', thought Faith, 'he wanted to talk. He wanted to talk about something other than Kat, hopefully.' And God knows she wanted to talk, and to listen, for that matter. She had been beginning to think he didn't want to spend time with her, at all. But now, finally, he was letting her in, and she wasn't going to turn down such a golden opportunity.
"Uh," she stammered, still a little surprised, "sure. That's great, Kevin." She rose from the couch and took the basket from him and carried it to set it on the kitchen counter. "I'll get some things together, okay?"
When she didn't hear him respond, she turned to where he stood, her hands full of fruit. He stood looking at her, his smile replaced by a look of sad disappointment.
"Kevin, what's wrong?" she asked, putting the pears and plums quickly into the basket before taking a few steps toward him.
"You don't have to do all the work, you know. I'm not helpless," Kevin said flatly, staying rooted to his place on the carpet, obviously hurt by her sudden and unexpected actions to take care of things herself.
Faith sighed. "I know. I didn't mean to make you feel helpless, Kevin. I'm just so much in the habit of doing everything for the people I take care of and I don't think when I jump into something like that. I'm sorry." She walked back to the basket and, gesturing to it, asked, "Do you want to help me get this packed?"
Kevin shook his head despite her offer. "Nah. You look like you got that all taken care of. How about I go back upstairs and dig out a couple of blankets?"
"That would be great," she said, trying to sound chipper.
But he hadn't waited for her response. He was already starting up the stairs when she responded to his suggestion.
Hopefully, the morning wasn't a preview of what the remainder of the day had in store.
By the time Kevin had returned from upstairs, his one free arm full of blankets, the basket had been packed and the grim mood had disappeared.
Now, on the blankets side by side, their stomachs full with their breakfast of blueberry muffins and fruits, they let the pleasant warmth of the morning sun and the calming smells and sounds of the ocean play with their senses, enjoying the company of each other.
Breakfast had been an enjoyable experience. Faith filled Kevin in on what she had failed to tell him about her job. She enlightened him with college tales and stories of when she was first living on her own. Kevin listened intently and Faith was pleased when her memories brought a few genuine smiles to his face. He even erupted in laughter once or twice. Faith had been sure that she had never heard such a beautiful sound before in her life when she had heard him laugh. 'How long has it been since he laughed like that?' she had wondered to herself. Once breakfast was through, they laid on their satisfied stomachs, side by side, both of their heads cradled in their folded arms, their faces turned toward each other.
They hadn't moved since. And they had remained silent, until Kevin decided to turn all conversation serious, several minutes later.
"Faith?" he asked softly, lifting himself up to lean on his elbows.
"Hmm?" she replied, not moving from her place on the blanket.
Despite the fact that Kevin had thought hard about how he was to casually work the subject into conversation, he could not concoct a way to avoid jumping into it unexpectedly. But he was determined that she was going to be the first to open up, let down that guard that he knew they both were keeping up so stubbornly. Then he would, maybe, let her in a little. God knows he wanted to. But he couldn't...yet. But he didn't want to spring his next question on her, and that was exactly what he did.
"Why did you divorce your husband?"
Kevin saw her tense immediately, and regretted his question. He quickly began to apologize. "Faith, I'm sorry. I didn't think--"
Faith sat up with a start. "No, Kevin, don't be sorry. It's just that..." she stopped, suddenly catching a similarity in their past hurts, and how they were handling them. She brought her eyes down to the blanket slowly, and continued. "I never talked to anyone about this before. I, uh...I don't know if, if I can."
Kevin grinned sadly at her. He eased her back down to the blankets and he joined her there, this time laying on his side to face her. "I can sympathize with that," he said, his voice softer than before, almost a whisper.
She returned his sad smile and sighed. The tables had been turned. Now it was her turn to talk, and his turn to listen. "Kevin, it's, it's so hard to talk about this," she said, her voice cracking in a sudden rush of emotion.
He frowned, but understood. He knew better than anybody about painful memories. He saw her blinking frantically at him, attempting to hold back the tears that were about to come gushing forth onto her cheeks and he couldn't resist the urge to hold her. He reached out and gathered her against him, tucking her head into his shoulder, and he let her cry.
He ran his hand soothingly up and down her back, brushing her hair aside and tried to quiet her. He felt terrible. He had a feeling that his question wouldn't be well-received, but he didn't expect such a powerful reaction. And now he felt lower than the scum of the earth for making her cry. So he continued to hold her there on the blankets, the hot morning sun beating down on them.
But her cries turned to sobs and she began to shake in his arms. "Oh God, Kevin!" she said, her words muffled by his shoulder, but still recognizable. "I don't know what I did! He kept saying it was my fault!"
Kevin felt his heart tear in two when he heard her sobbing. He had convinced himself that he wouldn't let himself feel for her like this, like she was making him feel now. He hadn't felt so concerned for someone, so worried, since, well, the accident. He had never let anyone get to him like this...for a long time. Why her? Why now, as she lay sobbing in his arms. He looked down at her, about to say something - another apology - but she started first.
"I don't know, Kevin! He was the one in bed with that blonde bimbo, not me!" Her head shot up and her eyes bore into his. "Do you know how many times I tried to figure out how it could be my fault? God, too many! Too fucking many!"
Kevin was surprised at her change of emotions. Her desperate need for comfort had transformed into hot anger. He still enveloped her, tightening his hold on her for fear she spring up and do God knows what. He was relieved, though, that her anger had ceased her sobs, replacing them with soft hiccups. "Faith," he whispered quietly, "Faith, it's alright. It's--"
"It's not alright, Kevin," she said, just as quietly, her voice wavering. "Just the image of that night...it sends chills up my spine. How he could..."
"I know, Faith. I know," he said, trying to reassure her, and pulled her closer.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down onto her shoulder, needing something to hold on to. "And he tried so hard to take Julian away from me. That was the worst part of it all, the courts."
Kevin struggled to hear her, she spoke so softly. The waves nearly drowned out the sound of her voice.
"And I still have to see him when I bring Julian for his visits. I can hardly stand it. But I do. I have to or it wouldn't be fair to Jules," she said.
Kevin felt her plunge her fingers into his hair as she spoke. Did she know she was doing that? Her other hand gripped his shirt and curled it with her fist. He had never seen her like this. And his heart was suddenly filled with so much compassion he didn't know what to do with it. What was wrong with him?
"Sometimes I think I wouldn't know what to do with myself if it weren't for him," she said, referring to her son.
Kevin ventured to change the subject slightly. "Have you talked to him?"
He felt the shake of her head against his shoulder. "I haven't gotten the chance to ask you if you minded such a long call."
He pulled away from her to look at her face. "I think you know you didn't need to ask," he said as he used his hand to wipe away the wet traces of her tears and brush the wet strands of hair away from her face. "Call anytime you need to, okay?"
She nodded, and smiled slightly at him. "Thanks," she whispered and was pleased when he smiled in response.
For a time, nothing more was said, until Faith spoke again.
"Is there anything left in there?" she said, gesturing toward the basket.
Kevin leaned over on his elbow and pulled a peach from the basket. He handed it to her, and said playfully, "And I was gonna eat that. They're my favorites."
"Well, you snooze you lose, big boy," she said, smiling despite her mouthful of peach.
He laughed at her, relieved she was back to her normal self and made a lunge for her half eaten peach in an attempt at a steal.
She easily dodged his swinging arm and laughed back at him. "Uh, uh. You had your chance. Besides," she added, "you couldn't get this back if you tried." She waved the dripping fruit near his face and hurriedly pulled it away.
"Wait two more weeks," he said.
She smiled at him, not caring to deliver a snappy comeback. "I didn't know you've been keeping track," she said, nodding to his cast.
"And why not? I can't wait until this thing comes off! It's annoying and itchy and--Faith, a snail can beat me in a footrace! Why shouldn't I be counting the minutes until this is gone?" he said, making exaggerated motions toward his foot.
Faith could only struggle to suppress giggles.
"Yeah, you laugh. Just wait! You, Faith, will have the privilege of being my first victim!"
"Victim?" she said, her peach now finished. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Now it was his turn to suppress giggles.
"Stop laughing at me!"
Her childish demand only made him laugh harder. Finally, after his laughter subsided, he stood up slowly and said, "I think it's time to head back, don't you think?"
"Yeah," she said, also standing and handing him the basket. "I'd like to give Jules a call."
He nodded as he watched her fold the blankets and gather them in her arms. Then, they walked together back to his car, piled in, stuffing the blankets and basket into the backseat, and were on their way.