CHAPTER 13
1140 Words
CHAPTER 13
Kennedy couldn’t remember the last time she had seen wind like this. It howled around her face, wrapped around her legs, and threatened to suck her breath away.
“I parked just around here.” Carl had to shout to be heard.
Kennedy clutched her leather coat across her, wishing for the warm softness of Reuben’s parka again. She followed Carl around the corner and saw his maroon Honda.
He fidgeted with the keys until the doors unlocked. “Gonna have to take this baby in soon to have someone look at the wiring. Every time I signal left, the wipers go on.”
Kennedy didn’t care what they were driving as long as it got them out of the cold and off campus. How could Willow have been so naïve? Giving their dorm number to a total stranger ...
She had to stop thinking like that. It wasn’t Willow’s fault. Ok, so maybe it was, but she hadn’t acted in malice. Willow was like an untrained puppy. You couldn’t really get mad at her, and even if you did, it wouldn’t last for long.
Carl strapped the buckle across his chest and pulled it. “Darn thing never gets tight enough.” He tugged a few more times and then seemed content. “You ready?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go.”
There was hardly any traffic. Kennedy had never been on the roads at this time and wondered if they’d have to worry about drunk drivers. At least it was still a weeknight.
Carl turned down the volume to his talk radio station. “So, you’ve had an exciting evening, by the sound of it.”
Kennedy stared at the picture of Carl’s grandkids taped to the dashboard.
“You wanna talk about it?” He gave her a quick glance.
No, she didn’t want to talk about it, but she knew she would anyway. That was just the way Carl was. He wouldn’t make a single demand, probably wouldn’t say more than a dozen words, and Kennedy would end up baring her entire soul before they reached his home in Medford.
Carl drummed a little beat on the top of the steering wheel. Kennedy knew he had lived through his share of both trials and excitement. He played pro football for a few years before settling down as a pastor. He started St. Margaret’s only five or six years ago, and it was already one of the largest churches in the Cambridge area. New Englanders were by nature fairly tolerant, but she knew he and his wife had experienced a decent amount of flak in the past for their interracial marriage. Maybe that’s why he was so easy to talk to. In all their conversations this semester, he had never once made her feel judged. She shut her eyes for a minute, wishing the night would end.
“I hate these silly rotaries.” Carl leaned forward and squinted his eyes as he curved onto one of the Boston area’s many circular intersections. “Why can’t they just put in a traffic light like normal cities?”
Kennedy was surprised at how few Christmas decorations were out, nothing at all like when she was growing up in New York. The one or two businesses that sported lights were about as polished and appealing as a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
“So you finished your classes finally? How’d they all go?”
Kennedy sighed. She knew Carl would find a way to get her talking, so she may as well stop resisting and get it over with. “I ended up getting an extension for my chemistry final.” She told him about her episode during the test. “I felt pretty stupid when I heard they caught Vinny. I mean, I should have been ecstatic with news like that, but really I was just embarrassed.”
Carl didn’t respond as he whizzed right over a speed bump. The car jostled and made a loud scraping sound that made Kennedy wince.
“So I had to make an appointment at the clinic to get a medical excuse, and the guy I talked to thinks I should have some counseling when I go back for spring semester.”
Carl looked over at Kennedy and rushed through a yellow light. “Really? What kind of counseling?” There was a strain in his voice that made Kennedy even more uneasy.
“Something to do with PTSD. You know, probably thinks I’m still not over the whole thing last fall.”
“And are you?”
“Traumatized?” She had to fight off her indignation. “No. It could have been a lot worse.”
“No, I mean are you over it?”
Kennedy was shaking now. She hoped Carl didn’t notice and hugged her arms across her chest. “I mean ... I don’t know. I’m trying to move on. That’s all.”
Her throat constricted.
“I’ve been praying.” Her voice was defensive, but she didn’t care. “And reading my Bible. A lot. And I know that if I keep that up, I’m going to be fine. I don’t need to sit on a couch and talk with some shrink about what happened.”
She sniffed. Please don’t cry, she begged herself. That was all she’d need to convince Carl she was as big of a basket case as everyone else thought. Tears spilled out from the corners of her eyes, but she looked out her window and refused to acknowledge them.
Carl was silent. The radio talk show host was drawling on about something or other in the Middle East, and then the next minute he moved on to the American public school system. Didn’t Carl realize there were at least a dozen stations playing Christmas music this time of year? Kennedy remembered teaching carols to the North Korean refugees who lived with her family in China. On Christmas Eve, they had all sung a Korean version of Silent Night a capella in the den, and the sound had given Kennedy chills.
A small black car revved its engine as it sped past them, swerving in its lane, and Carl muttered something about crazy Boston drivers. The radio host was complaining about a new tax proposal when Carl finally spoke up, his voice soft and subdued. “The Bible never says you have to forget something to heal from it.”
Kennedy wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“God promises healing, but sometimes that can take years.” Carl handed Kennedy a Kleenex. “Sometimes, it doesn’t come until the afterlife,” he added, almost to himself.
“I just wish that ...”
Kennedy stopped herself. Wish what? That she had never gotten abducted? That her dad didn’t constantly freak her out with his safety paranoia? That her roommate hadn’t given Kennedy’s room number to the one person connected to her kidnapping who remained at large?
“I just wish I could go home.” A tear splashed onto her seatbelt buckle.
Carl slowed down and passed her another tissue. “You’ve had a rough semester. It would have been hard for you even without getting kidnapped.”
Kennedy wished people would stop using that word. She didn’t need to be reminded of what happened to her last fall. Her nightmares did a good enough job of that.
Carl slowly curved the Honda up an overpass ramp. “You shouldn’t be hard on yourself. Just because you’re a Christian doesn’t mean you ...”
The black car in front of them slammed to a stop. There was a terrifying crunch accompanied by a jolt. Kennedy sucked in her breath as Carl’s forehead bashed into the steering wheel.
- Writer
