Layna welcomed him warmly, now in her kindergarten uniform. She emptied the contents of her miniature backpack, replacing one book with another and considering which of her doll would have the honor to accompany her to school next time. Scanning at the expanse of neatly-labeled early readers spilling on the floor, he realized with a slight jolt that she'd inherited his middle name. It, he admitted, has a beautiful ring on it.
The soft mats and padded walls of the nursery drowned the sounds from outside, but he was still able to hear bits and pieces of the conversation taking place in the living room with some concentration.
"Why did you let him come?"
Ouch. And he thought Kenny was tolerating him.
Getting no response, Kenny pressed the question harder. From the corners of his memories, he could see Kayla's eyes wandering as she sought for distraction, probably while scraping her nails against crevices between the tiles.
"This is not healthy for you, Kay."
"He comes for her, Kenny, not for me."
"And that is, exactly, why I said it's not healthy for you."
"Layna deserves to know her father."
"You've been perfectly well with keeping him in the dark for three freaking years. Bullshit."
"That was before the secret was out. I was afraid of ruining his life. Now that it doesn't matter anymore, and he comes here on his own volition, I don't see why I should keep him away from Layna. Layna likes him."
"But you? Kayla, you're not fooling anyone."
Kayla did not answer. Kenny murmured something he could not catch.
"I have something to tell you, Kay." Shuffle, shuffle. Kenny was rummaging his bag for something. "I... I'm getting married. The wedding's next month."
"That's good news. Congratulations, Kenny! I'll make sure to attend."
"I won't be able to do this anymore, then. Visiting you in the weekends, I mean. Sarah, apparently she...doesn't really like it. She's been stable, but a lot of things fuel her paranoia. Us going to college together and having mutual interests are not helping. She told me that she'd been tolerating this because of what happened to you, but if we were to get married then I'd have to stop. So I promised her."
"Oh." A pause. "It's alright. Anyway, maybe you can bring Sarah here every now and then. And if you guys have a kid, Layna would appreciate some friend."
"Sure." A beat. "I'm sorry. It doesn't make it any less hurtful, but I do like the visits, y'know. It's as much for you as it is for me. You're a good friend, and it's not like I have a lot of people to talk about this sort of thing with."
"How opposed is Sarah with us hanging out together? We could make it like a monthly game night, with all eight of us, maybe with her too. That should be easier for her to accept. I don't want her to get the wrong idea about you and me."
"That sounds like a good plan."
It did sound like a good plan, but the way they were saying that, he got the impression of had-beens, like a group of once tight-knit school friends planning a reunion. Everyone would like to attend, but no one would end up making it there. Kayla wouldn't risk getting Kenny in trouble with his wife. Kenny wouldn't compromise his wife's mental health. The air of finality seemed to radiate in the living room, signed and acknowledged.
Once upon a time, he'd promised it to Kayla. That they'd be each other's best friends even after their other best friends left towards their own roads. Now he wasn't even sure Kayla considered him more than an acquaintance, going all through that hassle to keep him away. He still cared a great deal for her. That was why he had told her to stay in contact. Just maybe not enough to actually commit himself fully into it.
He was reminded of his own question just yesterday. Then what about her? While she pretended to be happy for everyone else, how about her?
It was easy to pretend normalcy. He could hear pots clattering while Kayla was prepping supper. In front of him was his daughter, happily bouncing a stuffed animal while attempting to teach it the alphabets. A warm apartment, the last remnant of sunlight making patterns on the windowsill. Once upon a time he thought this would be a future they share together.
But was it all worth it? Would he trade what he had for this? What was happiness anyway? For the last three years, he hadn't been particularly happy, but it too was unfair to say he was unhappy. His job kept him sufficiently busy, he went out with his friends for dinner every now and then, he had the occasional game nights in the weekends, and there was enough Netflix for a lifetime of me-time. Besides, as much as the nostalgia filter tried to bury the fact, the lack of emotional burden he'd had to bear from caring for a depressed girlfriend was massively liberating. Unlike when they had still been together, he could spend a day shooting pixels without having to deal with sudden existential crisis. He had been content. It wasn't like in those movies where he suddenly realized he had a hole within him needing to be filled, where he had the magical insight that this had been what he had wanted all along.
This would be nice. But so was the life he'd been leading. Regret shouldn't lack such guilt, should it?
When he left Layna curling asleep atop her favorite plushies, Kenny had gone.
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