Chapter 5 5 Years Later!

Chapter 5

Ken

Five Years Later

I SIGHED. I WAS UNBEARABLY tired.

"I still don't see why they didn't ask for a longer review time if they were doubtful, Mac," I said calmly, setting my pen down.

The burly, pale tattooed man before me scratched his beard thoughtfully. Not many people had been able to see the raw potential in Mac's talent. He was intelligent and capable – and his terrifying appearance made him a formidable presence in any board room. Even his meddling, however, had not helped make this acquisition any easier.

"They had their walls up all the way up, Mr. D. They were talkin' inside a closed room, meeting us only one by one, mumbling a lot of legal shit."

"You would have hated that."

"You bet! I was so frustrated, I fell off the wagon," he complained, throwing his hands in the air.

"Shit," Felix said. "You got drunk again?"

"Yeah," Mac said, nodding morosely. "They kept offering me a drink, and the meeting stretched to over four hours... I thought one wouldn't hurt."

"Jesus," I mumbled.

Felix glanced at me. "Should we say something to McNally?"

"No, he'll just say he was being polite."

"It's my fault," Mac said, looking guilty. "Mr. D, I haven't had a relapse in a while. I don't know how this happened."

"People fall off the wagon all the time, Mac," I said, firmly. "Don't worry about it, just get back on the horse. This is a legitimate problem that takes time and work to solve."

"And, you have been doing very, very well," Felix said, offering him an encouraging smile.

"Thank you, guys." He offered us a grateful smile. "Anyway, McNally said he'll send you the revised contract sometime this hour.

"How's Ellis doing?" I asked him.

"She's doin' fine. Four months along now. Actually, she's waiting for me at home, and I'm already late, so I better get going."

"Alright, man." I waved at him as he opened the door to step out. My assistant, Diane, poked her head into the office.

"Your mother called a few times. She said to make sure your cell was with you."

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, resting my head on the back of the couch. "I'm swamped. If she calls again, tell her I'll call her tomorrow."

"And, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Evan McNally has forwarded the revised contract," she said.

I sighed. Of course, he had. The son of a bitch.

I shook my head slowly at my ridiculously complicated whiteboard. This was going to be a long night. It was a hot evening in Palo Alto, made even more uncomfortable with the mountain of work that had crashed onto us at the very last minute.

"How could McNally revise the contract three days before we sign it?" I asked Felix, still unable to believe that people would be up to pulling such cheap antics.

"He's an asshole," Felix mumbled, his coffee mug tilting, dripping small drops of his coffee onto the carpet.

"Dude, you're fucking the carpet," I said.

"Shit," he mumbled, grabbing paper napkins off the table and blotching the dark brown stain. I rubbed my eyes lazily, trying to pull the liquid out of the fibers.

I feel gross, I thought to myself, longing for the shower in my apartment that I hadn't been to in three long days. I wanted a clean, washed shirt, a meal that wasn't from Dunkin' Donuts, and about 30 hours of sleep.

My phone began to ring, and I threw it a glance. My mother's sharp smile appeared on the screen, and I silenced the call. I couldn't afford to get distracted before I saw this contract through.

"Let's postpone the signing date even more," Felix said, standing up, "That'll show them we're not gonna stand for their cheap tricks. We'll take our time to sign an agreement that we fully understand."

I shook my head, biting my lip, "No, I don't want to delay the signing. They know they can't get us with complicated legalities. They just want to draw this out for long enough so that there are more buyers vying for their attention, after which they'll want us to up the offer."

"They can't get better software than us."

"Exactly! So if we insist on seeing this through witho-"

My phone began to ring again. I threw it an annoyed glance and saw my mother's face light up at me again. "Woman won't give me a break," I mumbled, picking up my phone. "Gimme a minute, Felix. Get the interns ready for a contract rewrite."

"Got it." He walked out of the office into the hall as I answered the phone, pressing it to my ear.

"What's going on, Ma?" I asked her. "I'm in the middle of work."

"Ken..."

I stiffened. The voice on the phone sounded so plainly and deeply depressed. I heard heavy sniffing. Was she crying? "Ma?" I asked warily.

"My baby-" I heard her say, after which she instantly burst into tears. I heard long, aching wails that struck me with fear.

"Ma? Why are you crying?"

She continued to mewl, trying to get words out of her mouth. I vaguely heard the words "Amalia" and "test" mingled in with a torrent of weeping.

"Ma, Ma, you've got to calm down," I pleaded, "I can't understand you – what is going on?"

"It-it's Amalia..."

"What's wrong? Is she okay?"

My mother let out a tortured wail, "She has cancer! She has breast cancer!"

The words seemed to constrict around me. I could hear them, but they didn't really make sense. I let myself down onto the couch, feeling as though I got a strong blow straight to my stomach.

"W-what..." I mumbled.

"She's been sick for weeks, throwing up, losing weight-"

"I thought it was the fucking flu!"

"I took her to the clinic last week and the doctor, he... He wanted to do all these tests, and I didn't know how...how to...." she trailed off.

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, trying to quell the giant lump in my throat. "What-uh, what stage is it?"

"Second."

I clutched my phone with both my hands, the skin around my knucles stretched tight. I took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm coming home, Ma. Okay?"

She continued to whimper – she was living and reliving the nightmare inside her own head – I knew she was.

"Ma," I said firmly, and clearly. "I'm coming home, okay? I'll be there with you. I'm coming home right now."

I hung up the phone, unable to bear her tortured sobbing anymore. I pressed my head into my hands, wishing I could dissolve into the ground.

Amalia has cancer.

I remembered her sweet, trusting smile and felt my heart constrict so painfully, I had to clutch my chest.

"Felix!" I called, my voice sounding as though I were being choked.

The door flew open, and he popped his head through the crack. "I'm calling Dunkin', do you want anything?"

I looked up to him, my mouth agape, eyes unfocused, unable to form a coherent response. He took one look at my face and immediately stalked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"What's going on?" he asked me in an undertone. "Is it the contract?"

"No...we, uh... We gotta go home, man."

"Home?"

"Susanville."

"Why?"

I felt my mouth twitch, accompanied by a strong burning sensation in my eyes. I stuffed my face back into my hands. I could feel my half-formed tears wetting my fingers.

"Dude," he mumbled, putting a hand on my shoulder and sitting down beside me, "what is it?"

I sniffed and looked up, feeling distinctively bleary. "Ma just called. Amalia has cancer."

I felt Felix's hand slowly drop off my shoulder. I cast a glance his way, and saw he was looking at his feet, his jaw locked tightly shut.

"Shit," he said softly.

"Yeah."

Over the time that I had been friends with Felix, he had become great friends with Amalia, and I could see how deeply he was affected by the news. He was never one for being so shocked, not in the face of the worst crises we had ever endured together.

"We gotta go home as soon as we can," I told him, pulling out my cell phone. He nodded mutely, looking dumbstruck. I sifted through the flight options on my phone, my fingers numb against the screen.

"There's no flights tonight or tomorrow," I said, frowning fiercely.

"Why?" I heard Felix ask.

"It's almost Christmas."

He turned to give me a look of burning determination. "Fuck it, then. Let's drive."

"Ken."

No.

"Kennn."

Nope. I'm getting up. I just shut my eyes for a few seconds.

I heard the metallic whir of curtains sliding along their rod before painfully bright sunlight instantly hit my face, turning my kids a burning red color from inside.

"No...." I groaned, as I felt my covers being yanked off of me. Why couldn't I get one moment of peace?

"Ken," I heard Felix call from right above me. "Get up, your mother is freaking out."

"Why?" I asked weakly.

"Just get up, will you?"

"Ugh!" I growled, making myself sit up. I gave him a dark glare. "You will burn in hell for this."

"I told her that. She didn't seem to care."

"Kennn!" I heard her shout from downstairs. I winced.

"Coming, Ma!" I yelled, pulling a shirt on. I rubbed my face – I felt so fucking fried.

"What time did I pass out?" I asked Felix.

"About 15 minutes after dinner."

I stared at the fresh blanket laying over my bed, running my finger over the soft fabric.

"Amalia?" I asked him.

"She's downstairs decorating the tree, and she really wants her brother to be there."

"Alright, alright," I said, rolling my eyes. I jumped out of bed and slipped into my old slippers, something that gave me a distinct pang of nostalgia. My bathroom looked the same as it had five years ago – Heidi Klum's tall figure still grinned at me from behind the door. I brushed my teeth with a practiced rhythm, trying to attach meaning or memory to the things I noticed around me.

"HOW HE RUNS A BUSINESS WHEN HE SLEEPS ALL THE WAY TILL NOON, I'LL NEVER KNOW-"

"I'm coming, hold on to your freaking hair, will you?!" I shouted, toothpaste dripping down my chin. I rinsed my mouth and splashed some water on my face, looking up to glance at my reflection in the mirror. My life was a coagulation of fucked up schedules, and after every 20 hour crash of sleep, I'd feel disjointed and strangely tired. How much time had passed? A second? A few hours? A day or two?

I had no time to brood today, though. The news of Amalia's cancer had spun my mother into an even more obsessive force than before. While Amalia maintained a serene, reassuringly strong countenance as she described her tests and the results, my mother went for her practiced method of overcompensation. She had decided to decorate the house in the manner Amalia had loved when she was younger: Amalia's Winter Wonderland. I went downstairs and entered the kitchen, where I saw Ma bent over the stove, her face sweaty, furiously mixing. She was wearing a dark red sweater and a green skirt. How very Christmas for her.

"You always waste your whole day sleeping?" she asked me sharply without looking up from her pot.

"I hadn't slept in 72 hours, Ma," I told her, picking up a banana from the centre table. The familiar peach walls gave me the old feeling of waiting for the morning school bus while munching on cereal. I glanced around me with mild interest at surprising details, such as a new patchwork tablecloth, ivory curtains that filtered the bright sunlight, and the shining ebony wood of the new dining table.

"Ma, have you been renovating?" I asked.

I saw her shrug, "Yeah, you know, just trying to make it a nice place to live. It's nice for Amalia, too. I want her to have everything..." she trailed off, resting her hands on the counter and leaning over it. Her chest heaved as she breathed heavily.

I rushed over to her, pressing a reassuring hand on her back, "Ma, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." It was the world's most see-through lie. I had been too tired to focus on anyone besides Amalia last night. Only now in the brightly lit confines of the kitchen could I see the dark rings circling my mother's eyes. She looked gaunt, much like I did when I pulled sleepless stints stretching for over two days.

"What time did you go to sleep last night?" I asked her.

"Oh, I don't know, there was a lot to do 'cause you boys were coming home, and I didn't really find much time."

"Ma, that's crazy. You gotta find time to sleep. You'll make yourself sick."

She gave me a look. "Don't you mother me."

"Then act like a grown up; you need to be well rested if you really want Amalia to be happy."

She brought one hand to her hip and gave me a sharp glare. "You know, if you weren't right in this one instant, I'd whoop your ass for talking to your mother like that."

"Sorry, Ma," I said, trying to look contrite.

"Go help your sister decorate the tree."

"Yes, Ma."

The living room looked absolutely stunning. Delicate leaves of holly dotted all the doorways, with fake snow from a can on every tiny ledge, plant, and windowsill. The room looked plush, neat, and well coordinated. The curtains, the couch, and the pillows all seemed to follow the same color scheme of varying shades of teal and yellow. My bare feet tingle on the soft, thick brown carpet.

To my right, a giant douglas fir towered over me. How my mother had hunted out this tree and decorated the house was beyond my understanding. She had shown little to no interest in Christmas while we were growing up.

Beside the tree, spraying fake snow and hanging twinkling lights along the branches, was my baby sister Amalia. Even from the back, I could tell that she was shrinking, her simple dress punctuating her bony shoulders and hunched countenance. I felt a sharp pang of pain mixed with disbelief. She saw me staring and threw me a smile so sweet, my heart curled in on itself in sadness. She had barely lived her life. How could this be happening to her?

"Stop thinking about it," Amalia suddenly said, looking me right in my eyes.

"What?"

"The cancer. Don't think about it. Don't look at me like I'm a patient. I just wanna decorate my tree, like a normal Christmas...doer."

I gave her a smile. "Alright, I'll try my best."

"Thanks." She said throwing some snow onto another branch. "So tell me, how long are you gonna be in town for?"

"As long as I need to be," I promised her. She nodded, assured that nothing was more important to me than staying by her side in this terrible time.

"Oh yeah," she said suddenly, grabbing my hand, "the whole town knows I'm sick, so I've been getting loads of messages and calls and shit. And, guess who called me yesterday?"

"Who?"

"Freda Seely." She gave me a wide, mischievous grin. It took me two seconds to add up what she was saying. She knew Freda and I had hooked up – and there was only one possible culprit.

"Felix, you asshole!" I called.

"What?" his voice asked from the kitchen.

"You're an asshole," I informed him, loudly.

"You wanna watch that tongue in this house, boy!" Ma shouted.

"Sorry, Ma," I said sulkily, sinking into my seat.

Amalia grabbed my sleeve. "Freda is a mom now."

I gaped at her. "She is?"

"Yeah."

I blinked awkwardly. "Who's the father?"

"Everyone says it's Drake." She gave me a sideways glance.

I leaned back in my seat, unable to wrap my mind around this fact. Freda had had a baby with that sadistic prick?"Are they married?" I asked Amalia.

She shook her head. "Nah, they are not together as hell. They've been fighting custody battles with each other for the last five years."

I listened, engrossed by the details of Freda's life. Why did I care about some girl's life? Especially a girl I hadn't met or spoken to in five years?

Felix appeared from the kitchen, his head buried in his phone. He glanced at me, "Let's go, dude."

"Go where?"

"Oh, Ma wanted me to tell you to go shopping with Felix," Amalia said, turning back to her tree.

"Shotgun," Felix called. I rolled my eyes at him.

"You're gonna drive, prick."

"Why?" he asked me, indignant.

"Oh, I don't know...for telling Amalia that I hooked up with Freda, maybe?" I said in the most accusatory tone I could.

He looked distinctly guilty as I tossed him the car keys, striding out of the house into the bright sunshine before calling out, "Shotgun!"

BEST DEALZ IN SUSANVILLE had really upped their game.

Aside from the obvious and cheesy misspelling of their name, the superstore had transformed itself from an ill-maintained building with a few shops targeting only rich people, into a giant, respected establishment where literally hundreds of people milled about, picking and choosing what they wanted from the store's seemingly endless stock. In only five years.

I let out a low whistle.

"I know," Felix said, nodding.

"Okay, first on the list is an elf costume, small," I said, feeling ridiculous. "Why do we need a tiny elf costume?"

"For the gnomes," Felix responded, engrossed in his cell.

"We have gnomes?"

"Yeah, it's next on the list, dude. You gotta keep up. Shopping during Christmas is no joke."

"Alright, Martha," I said, darkly, grabbing one of the plastic baskets stacked along the aisles.

"Okay, I've texted you half of the list. It's food related so you can't go too wrong, just read the labels-"

"I know how to buy food, idiot."

"You're the idiot who bought thirty six eggs last week."

"You told me to get eggs!"

"Who buys three dozen eggs in one go?"

"What, do they go bad or something?"

"I'm not sure."

"Then let it go," I said, offering him a grin. He rolled his eyes, walking away toward the decorations aisle, right into a crowd of bustling, jostling folk.

Okay. Baking soda, where are you? I stepped into the first food aisle and scanned my eyes across the shelf, picking items one by one off the list. Ma really was going all out, and within a few minutes, my shopping cart was leaden with several assortments, in addition to ingredients to make even more assortments.

Is icing a dessert? Does it come in a jar? What's the difference between icing sugar and normal sugar? I just began to consider asking an employee for help to guide me through this maze of plenty, when I heard the loud scattering of a pillar of several cans of tuna behind me.

"Fuck me!" I heard a familiar voice say.

It took me time to place the voice – after all, I had not heard it in over five years. Understanding slowly dawned on me, though, and I turned my head around, my heart thudding in my chest.

My eyes fell on a woman. She bent over, picking up the tins and putting them on the shelf with a sheepish expression. Her dark hair – the exact same shade I remembered – was tied in a loose bun with tendrils escaping, framing her face in gracefully loose rings.

That face. Those crystal blue, piercing eyes. Just as I remembered.

Freda Seely wiped the stray tuna on her fingers onto a nearby pole, glancing around to check if anyone was looking. Her eyes met mine, and she froze