K-Double-Why and the Melodious Hull

D/N · #1

Melody Hull opened the door.

"Wow," she said, "You're really... tan."

JULY 21, 2012

He stood there, hands in the pocket of paint-spattered jeans. He wore an ill-fitting white dress shirt with fresh, straight creases across the chest. She guessed a $15.99 Wal-Mart price tag was still attached somewhere. His sleeves were rolled up, faded tattoos on his dark forearms. That's what she noticed. Ken Yardley was older now, flecks of grey in his stubble and close-cropped hair, but the skin was the only thing that really felt different about him.

The guy she'd used to call Kay smiled.

"Thanks. You got a nice place here, Mel," he said, then lapsed into an awkward silence. Neither of them moved.

"So, uh, can I come in?"

She shrugged. "I already said you could come over, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You already said that, Ken."

"Yeah, I did." Another similar pause. "Allright, then."

She stepped back and Ken moved into the foyer, already stepping carefully as if it was not just certain but destined to break something expensive in the next 30 seconds. He knew he was out of his socio-economic zone, Melody knew it, and it was ugly because it would have only been a couple months ago that she would have relished this moment had she ever dared to dream it would occur.

"It really is a real nice place," he continued.

And it was. It wasn't ostentatious wealth, this wasn't some like some Versailles. It wasn't that distinguishable from any other middle-of-the-road (for Montlake) house from the outside and it wasn't gaudy on the inside. It was new and the lines of the furniture were sleek and matched each other, and the kitchen was a dream in ceramic and burner stoves, and she'd helped Paul pick half this stuff out because this was what $250,000 a year bought --that was ten goddamn times what she'd survived on when he'd left her -- and she wasn't sorry for it one fucking bit. So Melody Hull could see that look in Ken's eyes, those comments she knew he wanted to make and she held her tongue.

"Yeah. It is. Thanks."

"Where's your uh... Avery, where's she at?"

"Grandparents got her for the day."

"How old is she?"

"Just turned two."

"Two. Nice age, I bet," he chuckled. Like he'd know. Oh wait he would, cause he was still there for that age wasn't he? She tensed and thought about vocalizing those thoughts and he spoke again.

"So how are your folks?"

"They're... they're bad Ken. I mean, how do you think they are?"

"No, I mean... besides that."

"They're good. Healthy. Mom took an early retirement. They gave her a decent package to eliminate her spot when they closed the office. Not much demand for, y'know, glorified secretarial work these days. Dad's still managing the stations. He ended up making out OK for himself. He's probably put on 50 pounds since you last saw him, but he's pretty happy."

"Yeah. You always had good roots, Mel. Like seriously. I always knew you'd amount to it." He paused. "You got a good space. You're in a good place."

They'd trailed slowly through the house as they'd talked. Were in the kitchen now, and Melody crossed to the fridge. She grabbed a pitcher. Ice water, slices of lemon and lime floating inside. Filtered of course. And she walked back to the kitchen island while he leaned casually on the other side. She poured herself a glass and proffered the pitcher to him. Left unsaid to pour your own.

"Got a beer?" he asked.

"No," she lied.

Then she was drinking the water and feeling that little citrus hint that itself lied to you, lied that you were drinking something more than tasteless biological fuel disguised as something real. He was looking around, still checking out the place, still stalling for what to say

"You gonna ask how I'm doing?" Ken finally came out with and Melody stared back because now it was her turn to let the silence stretch out. She gripped the glass a bit tighter and move to the edge of the island, closer to him, before she answered.

"Is that why you came, Ken? Just want to catch up? You want to.... what you want to say hi, how've you been?"

"Christ Mel, you know that's not what I mean, you know why I'm here."

"Yeah." Her voice dropped a low octave and she drew that sound out and till it sounded like a purr and tasted like a razor in her throat. Her hand tightened on the glass and she was almost smiling as the first almost-tear was blinked away.

He hadn't come last month when the plane went down. He hadn't come last year or last decade and now he was here and she didn't actually know why.

"I don't, Ken. I'm sorry, I fucking don't."

He was speaking faster now and that gift of gab, that gift of rapid-fire talk even if he'd never have enough charisma or enunciation to back it up "I messaged you on Facebook Mel, you could've said no if you didn't want me, c'mon, you knew that coming down right after it would've been real bad for everyone, I didn't want to just show out of the blue or anything, I mean... I did it like the best way I thought-- fuck, Mel!"

She grabbed his arm with her other hand and felt her nails start to dig in. She blinked away more tears as he pried her fingers off with his other arm and stepped toward her, closing the distance even more. He always had quick hands. Deceptive strength that he almost never used or shown.

"Christ Mel! Calm down, you want me to leave?! I'll leave, I can go, I'm just-- I don't care that I came up here, OK? I--"

"You're not fucking leaving till you tell me why you're here!" Her other hand was still holding the glass, half full.

"I'm here because I'm here!" he finally yelled and they were almost chest to chest now, he was only a couple inches taller than her and Melody found she could stare him down quite nicely.

Maybe he'd never shown that strength because he always was a coward.

"Because you're here."

"Because I'm here. Because I thought I needed to be at least once and I needed to come and you said I could so I did Mel that's all. I'm here... I'm here to catch up. Yes. Yes Mel I'm here just to catch up and whatever you do it's fucking OK."

Melody was 19 years old again and it was near Christmas 1992 on a concrete warehouse floor as the grunge era reached its apex as the most glorious thing she ever saw. She was fucking hammered and had shoved her way to close to the front of the stage and the next day she'd be finding gum in her hair stuck there by the vindictive bitch she'd busted in front of. When the mosh pit broke out while mosh pits were still new and exciting and dangerous she'd had enough sense to move away, but not enough to intervene with the fucking ridiculous joker who called himself K-Double-Why got into a shoving match that he fully brought upon himself: who in Tacoma Washington in 1992 seriously thought they could make it as a white rapper? But the other guy happened to be an even bigger asshole and when he'd brushed against her and called her a piss-ugly cunt it was her who rescued Mr. Why by smashing her bottle on the bigger asshole's chest and getting dragged off while he was still too shocked to react.

And now she was reaching that glass up to smash on the real asshole's face 19 years later on but it was filled with water and lemon instead of cheap booze and that was wrong.

"It's OK Mel, seriously, it's OK, you tell me what you want you want me to not talk about me no problem you want me to not talk about her no problem, you want me to leave you just gotta--

So she loosened her grip on the glass and wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed K-Double-Why so hard she felt her teeth scrape against his for a second. She tossed the glass aside and pressed herself against him as he kissed her back and she shoved him into the living room. Open concept house. New, modern, easy and now she wanted to laugh and felt the tears come a bit more freely. She kissed him not because it had been fourteen years, not because he was and always would be a colossal fuckup no matter what he was doing now, but because of 1992 and 1993 and everything before she discovered she was pregnant, and everything after. Because he'd said the word "her" and because he'd made her and there'd been so much of him in her and now he was here and they could make a hundred more perfect little Deanna Hulls and make it all right and it wasn't until they'd fallen backwards onto the leather couch, his hands moving down her body to her waist, hers gripping him even tighter that she saw in the corner of her eye that he'd let a tear go too.

Melody broke her lips away. Moved her head back and started down at him. She could feel his heat. She could feel him hard against her leg. And slowly she entangled herself and pushed herself away till she was sitting on the couch.. He stared back before he did the same. And they sat there and now it was the awkward silence from both of them.

"So how are you doing?" she finally asked.