When life throws a turkey at you, don't try to make lemonade.
As Kim trudged through the cold but beautifully colorful streets of Seaford, she mentally cursed the Pilgrims. Screw them and their stupid thanksgiving tradition. They must've been on Indian crack or something if they thought that Thanksgiving would bring families together.
"At least I didn't try to abort my own kid at seventeen, Alexandra!" The shouted exclamation, coming from Aunt Charlotte infamous mouth, shocked the table into silence. I slowly turned to my angry, red-faced mother, a cold, sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.
"I was a mistake?" I squeaked out to her, the third female standing at the twenty-some seater table, filled with all my maternal relatives.
Mom's blond curtain of hair, the same golden shade as my own but straighter than mine would ever be, covered her face, her stance strict and defensive. "I don't want to discuss this here, Kim."
"Is Dad my real father? I spit out at her. "Or is he just some guy you married to raise your child?"
"Your dad is not your real father, Kimberly. Now. Sit. Down!"
Granma's hand rested softly on my upper arm, the same hazel eyes passed through my mom's family gazing at me sadly. "Come now, Kim. It's okay." she whispered.
I'm a mistake. I'm a mistake. I'm a mistake.
The world seemed like a dream, a kaleidoscope of lies. No wonder we didn't talk too much about Mom's younger days. No wonder I looked nothing like my dad. I didn't have a lick of his green eyes and black hair, or his sense of humor or even his love of spicy food-no more wondering about why I always got along with Dad's family but everything about my mom's family was mixed with lies and secrets and a general sense that everyone except for Gran desperately wanted to be somewhere else.
Fifteen years.
"You could've at least told me, Mom." I said sickeningly quiet, pushing back from the table and walking slowly to the beautiful turkey that Mom and I had made in tense silence no more than an hour ago. I grabbed the huge steak knife and thrust it into the turkey the same way that those words had thrust themselves into my heart, right before I spun and ran out of the house, leaving the whole damn mess behind.
I needed to think.
That was about two hours ago, Kim judged, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering in the cold winds. Now she was going to the only place that she could kill things and not get in trouble-
The dojo.
Kim wasn't in the right outfit for it, true (her off the shoulder white sweater and skinny jeans with the British flag on the back pockets was going to be hard to kick butt in) but she didn't care. Clothes, schmothes, she needed this.
The small jingling on the teeny tiny bell Rudy had installed a month ago announced her presence in her frequent hang out after school, the welcome hum of the air conditioner and the comforting smell of hard work and sweat calming Kim slightly. Her heart was still in turmoil after the whole discovery about her birth, and being somewhere this familiar and dear to her was like a balm to her heart.
Kim was tough, sure-but everyone breaks down now and again. No one is truly impenetrable to everything. We all need somebody-or something-to lean on.
Dropping her bag on one of the chairs near the front entrance, Kim kicked off her white flats and headed for the blue lockers, hoping that it held a change of clothes. Her efforts rewarded, she gathered the lavender long sleeved shirt and grey yoga pants to her chest and walked to the changing room, but halted almost instantly.
Did Kim's ears deceive her, or was there someone else in the dojo? The lights were all off, true, with the only illumination coming from the waning moon outside the dojo's doors, but that soft glow filled the dojo in such a way that one wouldn't need light to train; Kim herself hadn't turned on the lights, after all.
The rustling got louder, and Kim's honey brown eyes widened when none other than a shirtless Jack Brewer rounded the corner from the changing rooms. He didn't notice her at first, wiping the sweat from the back of neck, deep in his own world-Jack was so close Kim could smell his distinct scent, a warm tingle of smell that, when inhaled, felt like ginger incarnate, before he noticed her.
"Kim!" he said, slightly shocked. "Hey didn't notice you, sorry about that." Jack rubbed his neck in embarrassment this time, and Kim flashed back to a few weeks ago, when they were first invited to work on that movie. Jack and Kim were still as close as ever, but when they were alone sometimes, things seemed to turn awkward.
The fact that Jack had apparently 'lost' his shirt and the way that Kim's eyes couldn't help following his softly planed abs to the v disappearing down into his low-slung black jeans wasn't helping the situation. The white rim of his Calvin Klein boxers peeked out over the empty belt loops of his jeans and Kim felt the air heat up by a couple degrees.
Forcing her eyes up to his face, a good two inches taller than her own, Kim's brown eyes locked with Jack's own melted molasses ones and the tears she'd been trying to suppress ever since her mom admitted that Kim's birth wasn't wanted sprang to her eyes.
Jack's own eyes were cloudy with something that was obviously bothering him, but that didn't stop him from grasping her upper arms gently, thumbs skimming the exposed skin of her shoulder. "Kim. Whats wrong?"
Kim shook her head, the edges of her wavy blond hair tickling the edges of her shoulder blades, unable to express what she was feeling. "I-I-" she tried to choke out, but the words didn't come.
Jack understood. Without Kim saying a word he wrapped his arms around her, the clothes in Kim's arms dropping to the floor with the sudden motion. Jack crushed the somewhat broken blond girl to his chest, pulling her as close as possible and tucking her head under his chin, rocking her, holding her in the way that Kim desperately needed to be held.
This was why they were so close. No matter what the circumstance, they understood, respected, and were always there for each other, no matter what the issue was, or who caused it, or whether it was a big deal or not. They were like two halves of a heart, fitting together against all odds, always as a whole.
Kim's own arms snaked their way around his lithe waist, the thin sheen of sweat that existed on his skin not deterring her in anyway. Her body trembled with dry sobs and Jack just held her tight and rocked her back and forth, murmuring to her with encouragement when the tears finally subsided.
"Jack." Kim reached up and cupped his face in her hands. She studied each mole and dimple on him, every twinkle in his eye and every curl on his head. She probably shouldn't be doing this-especially when she was so high on emotion-but she had to. It was the only thing Kim could think of to block this, to block all of it, out.
She leaned forward, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him.
In an instant, Jack was everywhere, his fingers grazing the gap between her sweater and jeans, his hand leaving trails of fire against her skin, Kim's hands dug so deep into his hair that they were a part of it, the way they pressed each other so close that they were almost one person and they kissed, oh they kissed. They tasted each other for the first time, and were addicted in a less than a second, devouring all another, pouring all of their emotions into telling each other how they felt without using words.
Finally, they pulled apart, and their foreheads rested together, Kim and Jack's breath mingling as they stared at each other with equal parts disbelief and wonder.
"Did you enjoy that as much as I did?" Jack whispered to Kim in a voice filled with awe, his hot fingers still sending out waves of emotion to her entire body. Kim choked down a sob and smiled into his lips, pressing them closer for another kiss, losing herself in him and showing him just how torn apart she was.
Jack and Kim loved each other, yes-but they're first kiss wasn't filled with love.
It was filled with a carnal and blatant need, a longing, a passion that they only felt with each other-Jack and Kim were just feeding each other portions of who they were, and in that moment, they truly were one. They were one person filled with want and flame and the need to drown their sorrows, and until they finally spoke up for their feelings, it would have to be enough.
It had to be.
