Free Scars by Cheryl Rainfield Page B

two half-drunk glasses of wine.
    Emil stands, wiping at his mouth with a cloth napkin. He picks up the bottle of wine. “Good to see you, Kendra,” he says, coming around the table and hugging me with one arm. “I’ll just be in the living room, if either of you need me.”
    He kisses Sandy, and leaves.
    I look at their half-eaten meal.
I shouldn’t be here.
I turn to Sandy. “I should have called first. I’m sorry!”
    “Nonsense,” Sandy says firmly, steering me to thetable and sitting me down. “You are welcome here any time, day or night. You know that.” He ruffles my hair, takes a plate down from the cupboard. “Have you eaten? Would you like some pasta? It’s good, if I say so myself.”
    I bow my head. “No, thanks.”
    Sandy sits down across from me. “I’m glad you came to me. I was worried.”
    “My mother called you,” I say slowly.
    “When you ran off like that, she was scared. We all hoped you’d come here.”
    I hate that my mom can interfere in my friendship with Sandy like that. That she can call him and tell him her side of things before I even get a chance to. I cross my arms over my chest.
    “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Sandy asks, leaning forward.
    “Why? Didn’t she already tell you everything?” I slouch down in my chair.
    “Kendra.” Sandy reaches for my hand. “Your mom told me a few things, it’s true. But that’s between her and me as friends. I try to keep that separate—as separate as I can. I want to hear what’s going on with
you
. I can see you’re upset.”
    “They’re talking about moving, Sandy—right out of the city!” I say. “I need my therapy! God, I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last few months without it. Or without you. It’s like ripping my life supports away.” I swallow. “And things were just starting to get better. I met a girl I like—”
    Sandy’s eyes light up.
    “I don’t know where that’s going,” I say quickly. “I need time to find out. But most of all—I need to stay around the people who love me. Carolyn, and
you
. It’s too hard alone.”
    “I know you need us,” Sandy says. “If you have to move, I promise we’ll stay in touch. You’re important to me, Kendra. No way am I letting you out of my life that easily.” He squeezes my hand. “Your parents love you, too, though.”
    I choke back the tears. I realize now that I was hoping Sandy would let me stay with him. But Sandy’s in an uncomfortable position, being friends with both my mom and me. Like being pulled apart by two opposing magnets. Still, I have to try.
    I draw my hand away, pick at my cuticle. Try to keep the tears from coming. What do I do if he says no?
    “Kendra?” Sandy says.
    “Can I stay with you if my parents move?” I say it all in a rush, not looking at him. “I can’t handle leaving here—” My voice wobbles. I clench my teeth, hating how weak I sound.
    There’s a silence. I look up and see Sandy’s face shadowed with pain. “I want to help you; you know I do. But Kendra—you’re a minor,” he says, spreading his hands apart. “I don’t have any legal right to keep you here. I’m not your guardian. If your parents want to stop you from staying here, they can do it.” Sandy pushes his plate away. “But I promise you, I’ll negotiate on your behalf. I’ll try to get your mother to agree to let you stay here. It’s craziness to take you away from your support system right now.”
    But my mother is bullheaded and close-minded, especiallywhen it comes to me. She’s always resented how close I am to Sandy—and to my dad, too.
And I know Sandy feels he owes her, because she’s the one who introduced him to the local art world.
    “I shouldn’t have asked you,” I say, clenching my hands together.
    “No, I’m glad you did,” Sandy says. “I want you to be able to ask me for what you need. I might not always be able to give it, but if I can, I will.”
    Sandy takes a mouthful of wine,