Heartburn: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) by Tarrah Anders (best ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“Well, last I remember, I was told to not come home. That I wasn’t welcome anymore.” Kindra says dryly, looking at her coffee cup in front of her.

Hearing this conversation, while not in its entirety, is giving me some details of why she left. I knew her parents hated the fact that we were together.

“That was a conversation that I wasn’t a part of, and you know that. You left and you never called, you never came back.” Kindra’s mom’s voice is laced with pain. I feel horrible sitting here, witnessing this private moment, regardless of how it began. But I don’t get up to leave either, because I want to hear this too.

“That’s because I wasn’t allowed to. My car was packed up with all my stuff, the keys were under the visor and I was told to not go into the house.” Kindra says. “What other choice did I have? From what I remember, if a decision was made, then no matter which one of you says it—was the law

My relationship with Kindra’s parents wasn’t the best, and after she left town in a hurry, there was no reason for either of them to talk to me. Once I found out that she was gone, I called their house and her father told me to never call the house again.

So, I didn’t.

And now I’m even more curious.

If only her mother would leave, so she and I could talk.

8

Kindra

I wanted to speak to my mother on my own terms and not to be ambushed like this, especially in front of Rogan who should know a part of this story and hear it from me.

Instead, my mom is throwing out comments and questions like confetti.

I run into my bedroom and throw myself on my bed. Tears stream down my face from the confrontation that I just had with my parents. I roll over onto my stomach and put my head on my arms and let out a sob.

I hear my mother’s loud footsteps down the hallway halt in front of my door. I sit up and the look on her face is murderous.

“I can’t believe how irresponsible you can be! What the hell were you thinking? Were you not careful? This will make our family look as if we are out of control. You are a disgrace! One thing after another. Why can’t you just stay out of trouble and not make us look like terrible parents!” My mother screams at me from my bedroom doorway.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I cry into my hands.

“Do you know how many times we’ve heard that from you? ‘I’m sorry’ no longer means anything when it comes out of your mouth. We’ve heard it time and time again.”

“I’m so sorry.” I continue.

“The only reason you’re not getting kicked out of this house right now, is because it’s not just you anymore!” She taps her foot and I can hear her breathing as my arm is still covering my face. “I can’t fucking believe that this is happening,” she mutters.

“I’m an adult,” I whine.

“You’re still a child. You have no concept of what it’s like to be an adult.”

“You’re just saying all this, acting this way because you hate Rogan.” I spit at her.

“Does Rogan know what it’s like to be an adult? No, he too is sheltered by his mom. You both are still babies, and both are too reckless.”

Too reckless?

My mother leaves the diner with a promise from me that I would call her later today after she handed me her number. She was hesitant, but I told her that I had just gotten off of work and I needed to grab something to eat before going to sleep. She eventually relented, apologized to Rogan—which was odd, and left, leaving Rogan and myself alone again.

“Well, that was awkward,” I offer him a small smile.

“Nothing that I haven’t seen before,” he waves his hand.

“So, I guess I have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Let’s start with the one question that has plagued me for years.” He stares into my eyes, the look cold and determined.

I take in a deep breath and hold his gaze, knowing that I should have stuck around all those years ago. That I shouldn’t have let my emotions fuel me and leave without a word to anyone. Especially to him.

“Okay,” I swallow, “What’s your first question?”

“Was it a boy or a girl?”

9

Rogan

In the time that I wait for her to answer me, it feels like hours have passed. She holds my stare, never wavers as she takes a deep breath as if readying herself to drop a huge bomb on me.

“Maybe I should start at the top. I think that would be a little easier to do rather than give you just one simple answer, mainly because there is no simple answer, really.”

“It’s been eleven years, Kindra. I want to know whether or not my baby is a boy or a girl?” I ask firmly. “And where is the kid while you’re at the hospital?”

“Just bear with me. I need you to know that night was the worst night of my life. I made a monumental, no two monumental mistakes that night that haunt me. And I regret how I left, but I was run out of here. I know that’s not an excuse and definitely not fair to you. I should have talked to you and told you what happened, but I was so angry, so upset and I just didn’t know how to deal. I left, because he told me to and you know how I was then, I reacted without thinking that consequences would touch me. After everything that happened, the blood, the smoke, the machines.”

“Boy or a girl, Kindra?” I ask again.

“I shouldn’t have smoked weed that night. I should have remained sober. If that was the case, we wouldn’t have ended up in that car accident. We wouldn’t have ended up in