familiar. She remembered seeing a copy of it in her father’s study once.
“Are those Mr. Nieves’ books?” She asked and pointed at the shelves on the wall behind him. He nodded.
Just as if he’d read her mind he added, “I bought the house along with everything else inside of it. I guess that I just have not gotten in the mood to start throwing things away – he smiled to himself and said – this Mr. Nieves of yours must have been a colorful fellow.”
“If you call religiously fanatical colorful, then yes, he was – she laughed. Then asked, signaling to the book that he held in his hands – what is it about?”
He held out the book to her but she refused, “No, I’d rather have you tell me.”
Damien was still for a moment. Then, he opened the book on the first page and began to read out loud.
Kennedy was instantly drawn to his voice. She tried to figure out where the accent that sometimes crept into his speech hailed from. His last name sounded Italian in origin and at first she’d thought that was it. But, then he would start a new sentence and there was a slightly different enunciation every time. The pliable cadence of his words mixed all of them together.
She was fascinated and realized that it probably showed on her face. He smirked as he looked at her from over the book that he was still reading to her. She blushed furiously and locked her gaze on the floor. He kept on reading, never once remarking on the incident.
The small, old fashioned clock that she now noticed resting on the corner table chimed, it announced the beginning of yet another hour.
Kennedy looked at the intruding object as Damien shifted his position on the couch. One of his legs grazed her arm lightly and she realized with chagrined horror that she was sitting on the floor with her back against the couch and her knees pulled up to her chest unaware of ever having moved in the first place.
There was a blank spot in her recent memory where all she could recall was the peacefully hypnotizing feeling that she experienced as she let the comforting sound of his deep voice wash over her. All thoughts of dead sightless eyes were carelessly forgotten, even if for a short while.
Damien paused reading and tilted his head in the direction of the dining room. She looked at him, confused for a moment, until she heard the unmistakable sound of her name being called.
“Kennedy!” She heard her mother call from the front porch of their house.
She jumped away from Damien as if he were on fire and ran out to his own porch to answer her mother. An inexplicable feeling of guilt stirred inside of her.
“What were you doing in–” Her mother stopped short and her gaze shifted to look behind her. Kennedy heard as Damien came out of the house.
She knew how her presence in the neighbor’s house would look to her mother. Teresa was very proper and always asked Kennedy to behave accordingly.
An unmarried woman should never place herself in compromising situations and being alone with a man inside his house fell into that category.
“Buenas noches.” Her mother greeted calmly, too calmly for Kennedy’s taste.
“Mrs. Riser.” He replied, just as calm.
Her mother raised her eyebrows at her, wordlessly demanding an explanation. Kennedy looked apologetically at Damien and descended the front steps with her head down. She worked on the rationalization that she would give as she made her way to her mother’s side.
When she finally looked up, Damien gave her an encouraging smile. Her mother didn't miss it. Oh, her ears were already ringing from the sermon that she was about to receive.
“We were just talking.” She said under her breath as she reached her mother.
“Get inside, now.” Teresa commanded. Kennedy obeyed.
She dragged her feet slowly inside the house feeling more like a seven year old child than the young woman of seventeen that she really was.
Teresa followed her into the house and closed the front door behind herself. She stood before it, her arms folded across her chest, regarding her sternly. Her hard look made Kennedy feel slightly ashamed. But, then her mind cleared and she spoke.
“We weren’t doing anything – she said vehemently and at her mother’s doubtful stare, she added – I promise! You know me better than that.” She was almost an adult and she hadn’t been doing anything that she should be ashamed of.
“I thought that I did.” Her mother’s disappointment was hurtful, but even more so was her distrust.
“Mama, how can you say something like that? How many times have I brought a boy home or gone to one’s house?” She cried indignantly. Teresa sighed.
“Okay. I’ll give you that one, but either way, I don’t want to find you alone with him inside that house again. Or any house, for that matter.” Her tone made it very clear that she would not make any exceptions.
“You don’t need to worry, mama. He’s very respectful.”
“He may be. But, he's still a man, Kennedy.”
“Mother, I’ll be eighteen in a little while and besides, we're just friends.” She remembered the mildly insulting banter that they had shared and questioned her words. Were they truly friends?
“You say that as if you don’t like the idea.” She admired her mother’s insight, but it could sometimes be a nag. That moment was a perfect example.
“Well, we are just friends.” Kennedy hated the hesitation in her own voice.
“But, you'd like to be more than that.” Her mother stated, rather than questioned, and Kennedy knew that her answering silence spoke volumes.
“See, you’ve just made my point for me. No more unsupervised visits with him –Kennedy opened her mouth to protest but, Teresa continued – at least until you’re eighteen. I’ll figure out some other excuse to restrict your male friends after that.” Kennedy smiled and hugged her, feeling that the storm had passed.
“Okay, mama.” She would just limit her visits to Damien’s house to her mother’s working hours, which were long and plenty.
Kennedy turned to go upstairs. She considered what Damien might think about the matter. After all, she was the one that had invited herself to his house and forced her company on him.
Although, she thought with hope, he didn't seem to mind.
6. Read My Mind
“If the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for my destruction. Shall I not hate them who abhor me?” Damien was reading to her again and being more prepared for it this time, she tried to hide the beguiling effect that the sound of his voice had on her senses.
He was almost done with their second book, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and Kennedy suppressed the unfounded feeling of dismay that crept over her at the notion that there would be no more after that one.
It was stupid. There were tons of books where the first two had come from. Still, she feared that he would stop reading to her altogether once he was through with that text.
She wanted to ask him what book they would be reading next, but she didn't want him to notice her eagerness to be in his company. Though she was sure that he had noticed the result his presence had on her and silently enjoyed the small boost to his ego.
They had spent a few afternoons together so far, but already she felt incredibly comfortable being at his side. As if sitting in that living room and listening to him read to her was a habit that she had developed years ago instead of the three short days that had gone by in reality.
His amity had been to her like a drizzle of cool water in the middle of a drought, refreshing to her parched soul. When she was with him she could let the disappearance of her father and her mother's out of character neglect slip from her mind, albeit if only temporarily.
She wasn't sure exactly when she had started to regard him as a friend, but Kennedy was thrilled and weary of the concept. Sure, he was behaving nicely to her now, but she remembered what their first encounters had been like.
She was still secretly waiting for the rude Damien to return at any gi
ven moment. She decided that she really wouldn't mind if that happened. In fact, she was starting to think that she would welcome it. Any Damien would be better than no Damien at all.
“Where are you?” Startled out of her thoughts, Kennedy looked up at his question. She was sitting in her usual spot on the floor in front of the couch.
“What?” She answered dumbly, not quite understanding what he meant.
“Your mind, you seemed to be elsewhere.” He replied.
“Oh.” She was used to her lack of eloquence when talking to him.
“Where you thinking of your father?”
“Not really – It wasn't entirely a lie, she had been thinking about how she could not think of Steven when Damien was around – does that make me a bad person?” She finished out loud.
“No, Kennedy, that makes you human.” His tone was derogatory, as if her being human displeased him. Which was an absurd concept since he was human himself.
“Somehow, I don't think you meant that as a compliment.” She finally looked up at him and saw him staring at the now closed book that rested on his lap.
“You cannot be expected to worry about him every second of every day. You have your own life to live and the fact that you let other thoughts invade your mind does not diminish the love you may hold for him.”
“I know – she stared at the book too and asked – are we going to finish it today?” He looked at her and she watched transfixed as his trademark crooked smile took hold of his features.
“Kennedy, I had been reading