When I opened my eyes, we weren't in the alley anymore. Instead, we were out front of a little suburban home. It looked vaguely familiar to me - like something I'd seen once in a dream or something. I squinted at it. "What's this?" I asked my father, my eyebrows knit together.
"Don't you recognize it?" he asked.
"I know I should," I muttered, "But..." Then it clicked. I gasped. "This is Morgan's house."
"Mhm," my father nodded.
Morgan was the director of a play that I'd done when I was in college in Florida many, many moons ago. It was through Morgan and his play-writing experience that I'd actually met Kristen, who was one of his favorite lead actresses.
"What does Morgan have to do with anything?" I asked.
My father gestured to the front door just as two little boys about Mason's age came running out and bolted, yelling to each other, towards a van parked n the driveway. Both kids had on soccer uniforms and were yelling boisterously. I stared at them. They had big bushes of blonde hair, similar to Mason's but just a little redder, with Morgan's face, but still... there was something eerily familiar about them...
And then, there she was.
My Kristen.
She had a baby in a carrier strapped to her chest, and a cell phone cradled on one ear. A Canel purse hung off her elbow and she struggled to get the key in the door to lock it behind herself. She struggled to keep the baby level against her chest.
"Hurry up! Hurry up, mom!" screamed one of the little boys from the van window. "We're gonna be late!"
"I'm coming," Kristen said in an exhausted voice. I watched, slack-jawed, as she moved swiftly to the van and opened the door to toss in her purse. She moved around the van and opened the slider door and started strapping the baby into the car seat.
I moved closer, looking over her shoulder. It was a precious little girl with a button nose just like Kristen's. I felt my heart slam hard in my chest and I thought for certain she'd be able to hear ever thump it made in my chest.
Kristen had just gotten the baby buckled in when one of the two boys asked, "Mohh-ohhhm, did you remember those forms Coach needs today?"
"Ugh," Kristen let out a heavy sigh, "No, I forgot them. They're on the counter. Hold on." She started to unstrap the baby.
"I'll watch her, honey," I said instinctively, "You can go in..."
But Kristen ignored me, of course, and finished unbuckling the beautiful baby girl and, clutching her to her chest, moved back toward the house. I looked at the two boys. "You both stay right there," I commanded, "No getting into trouble." But even as I said it, the elder of the two punched the younger and the younger started screaming.
I bolted after Kristen. My father stayed on the driveway and let me follow her alone. I trekked into the house with her. Morgan obviously had made quite a bit of money somewhere since the last time I'd seen him - but not quite enough to actually buy a new house, or else he liked the one he had so much he just updated it. It was hard to tell which. I mean Kristen and the kids were all very, very well dressed and obviously well taken care of, and the house was no exception to that. It was immaculately clean and the furnishings were all gorgeous and expensive.
Kristen stopped in the kitchen and put the baby down on the tile, where she sat and sucked on her fist and cooed happily. Leaning against the counter, Kristen closed her eyes and stretched her back and neck the way she did when she was extremely stressed. I frowned, concerned, and walked over to her, planning to massage her shoulders and find out what the matter was, but she turned and passed right through me.
My stomach turned. I don't exist, I thought, I can't do anything to help her.
Kristen grabbed the forms off the counter and stood there, staring at them for a long moment. And suddenly, as though something she'd read had done the trick, she burst into tears and lowered her face into the crook of her arm against the counter. Her shoulders shook and her hair fell in clumps on either side of her face, like curly blonde curtains to hide her tears. My throat closed up. If there was one sound in all of the world that I hated more than anything else it was the sound of Kristen crying.
"Please don't cry, baby," I whispered, feeling goosebumps rising on my arms, "Please... Shhh, it's okay..." I reached for her back, desperate to do something... anything... to make her stop. But there was nothing I could do.
"MOM! WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!" The elder of the two boys was calling from the doorway. Evidently they were getting restless in the car.
"I'm coming honey," she yelled, straining to keep the tears out of her voice. She stood upright and swiped them away from her face as well, using the back of her hand, and lifted the baby girl up off the floor. "Come on Becky," she whispered, "Mommy's got you."
I followed her back out of the house and across the lawn. She handed the forms to the boys and situated the baby - Becky - into the car seat carefully once more. This angered the baby again, though, and the baby promptly began to cry.
"Aw mom does Becky gotta come? She's just gonna scream through the whole game..." whined the elder son.
"Yes, she does, Kevin," she snapped.
My heart froze at the sound of my name. Kristen had told me once that it was one of her very favorite names in all of the world. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. She didn't marry me...so she used the name for her son, I realized. I stared at the boy. He was the only Kevin she'd ever known.
Kristen climbed into the driver's side door and hesitated, holding the wheel in her fists, her eyes closed, before turning the key and starting up the vehicle. I watched as she backed the car down the driveway carefully.
"He's never home," my father intoned.
"Where is he?"
"Right now? Probably at a film set somewhere, maybe in California. Tonight? Who knows where he'll be... or who he'll be with," he added sinisterly.
"Does she know he's cheating on her?" I asked.
My dad nodded, "But where is she supposed to go? She's got three children to look after."
The van turned at the end of the driveway and Kristen pulled away. I wanted to run after her, to force her to see me, to shake her and tell her to leave Morgan and come with me.
"But she's better off without you, isn't she?" my father intoned. "C'mon Kevin. We're still not finished."
"I need to help her," I said desperately.
"You can't, Kevin," he said, "You don't exist."
