Permanently Yours

They anesthetized my hand and all, but I still had to look away. I couldn’t feel it, but I couldn’t handle seeing them suture my skin back together. “How about we stop playing until your hand gets better? Completely better?” Ben asked, walking slowly by my side as we left the hospital.

“Ok,” I sighed. When we reached the car, Ben opened and closed my door for me. “Sam says he’s still at the venue, signing and stuff…Ben, can you just take me home?” I asked, tossing my phone into the console.

“Alright…Say, Grey – about those guys at the venue…”

“Please don’t ask,” I said automatically.

Ben sighed, but did as I asked. He had to leave to go get Sam, though. I wrapped my hand in tegaderm before taking a shower. I had just stepped out when the doorbell rang. Funny. Ben and Sam should’ve had their keys, and they should’ve taken much longer than that to get to the venue and come back. I threw on my robe and opened up the door. “Did a lot of people come out to meet you guys?” I asked, running my fingers through my wet hair in an attempt to get it out of my eyes.

“Grey, are you alright?” Kennedy asked, wrapping his long arms around my damp frame.

“Um, excuse you,” I stuttered, pushing him away and actually tying my robe up now. “What are you doing here?” I demanded, trying to stand firm and not let him into the apartment.

“I was worried about you,” Kennedy said earnestly, reaching for my hand. “How did this even happen?”

“Long story…look…can I just get dressed first? I’ll tell you everything you want to know then.”

Kennedy nodded and I let him into the apartment. I went to my room and hurriedly changed. I felt awkward just leaving him out there by himself. “Hey,” I sighed when I came out, still drying my hair with my towel. I just threw on some shorts and grabbed one of Ben’s shirts to slip on. Kennedy got to his feet immediately. “Can we talk in the kitchen?” I pleaded, motioning for him to follow me. I needed to be preoccupied while I told him everything. Kennedy walked behind me, sitting at the counter. I went about making some tea to calm my nerves.

“Why didn’t you want to see us, Grey?” Kennedy asked as I started to boil some water.

“You know who I am?”

“Well…now I do,” Kennedy mumbled.

It was painfully silent now. I didn’t know how to take all that simple statement. What did he know? Did he know…that I was Grey from Arizona, from his childhood? Or did he know I was Grey, the drunk girl he met at one of their shows few nights ago? Or did he know that I was the bassist for Crash Kings? I was literally just watching the water boil at this point.

“Grey?”

“Who do you think I am, Kennedy?”

“Grey…the girl who plays bass guitar in an awesome band. The girl who I really enjoyed kissing at the laser tag place. The girl who ate at In-N-Out with us. The girl who lost her phone on our bus. The girl who puked all over me at our show a few nights ago. The girl who vanished from Arizona three years ago.”

I slowly turned around to face him. Kennedy was right behind me now. And he continued.

“The girl who loves The Starting Line just as much as I do. The girl who cut herself. The girl who was my best friend in high school.”

My eyes were so watery that my vision was blurred and Kennedy was out of focus. I tried rubbing them away but that made me cry even more. I was so happy that he remembered me... for me. If anyone else had answered in that format, they probably would have said stuff like, “The girl that’s Garrett’s sister” or something along those lines relating to Garrett.

Kennedy stood in front of me for a while, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth in anticipation of my answer. “Can I have a hug?” I asked lamely, done with trying to wipe my tears away.

Kennedy jokingly scoffed and rolled his eyes before pulling me close. It was crazy how so much had changed about him and how much had stayed the same. His hair was shorter, he’d grown a bit of a beard, he’d gotten a tad lankier…but he still smelled the same. Lucky Brand aftershave. I remember it quite distinctly. Whenever I went over to Kennedy’s house, I would douse my hemp bracelet with it when he wasn’t looking and toss it into my purse to make the whole thing smell amazing…

Kennedy let me cry on him for a while, momentarily letting go to reach behind me for something. I blinked and pulled back to see what was wrong. “Sorry, your water was kind of boiling over…”

“Oh,” I laughed, breaking the hug to turn around and make my tea. Kennedy kept his arms wrapped loosely around my waist, though, and kept his chin firmly nestled on my shoulder.

“Doesn’t your hand still hurt?”

“Not right now. The anesthesia hasn’t worn off, I guess,” I sighed, dropping the jasmine flower into the hot water. I rested my hands on Kennedy’s, pulling his arms tighter around me as he began to lightly kiss my neck. “Kennedy,” I laughed nervously, shying away from his touch. He needed to stop turning me on so badly.

“What?” he sighed impatiently, letting me go.

“Just…when did you find out it was me? How long have you known that I was ‘that’ Grey?”

“That first day at In-N-Out. I knew you because of…your scars.”

I self consciously turned my wrist away, out of his view. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you remembered me, o-or recognized me…” I sighed and rolled my eyes. Our thought processes were so similar. “Did you remember me, or recognize me?” he asked, following me to the kitchen counter. He pulled out one of the bar stools for me and helped me get up onto it, also politely refusing the tea. I forgot that he was such a gentleman.

“I didn’t recognize you the first night. I remembered you, though. Of course I remembered you. I figured out who you were when I got on your bus.”

Kennedy’s face turned ever so slightly pink when I mentioned that and he sat down beside me. “You don’t say?”

“Yeah, I saw a picture of me and Garrett in his bunk and I…” I trailed off, narrowing my eyes at him. “What’s with the face.”

“What face?”

“That face.”

“My face?”

“Kennedy.”

“I thought you meant…something else. Because…Because.”

“Kennedy Brock!”

“ Because I may or may not have pictures of you in my bunk, too.”

“You creep,” I teased him, leaning down to drink some of my tea. “At least tell me it’s not a shitty school picture or something.”

Kennedy pulled out his wallet and opened it, pulling a photo out from behind his driver's license. "It's this one..."

When I saw it, I took the photograph from him with trembling hands, smiling so hard I had started crying again. "You have to make me copies of this, alright?"