Peter
“So, three?! Are you sure?!”
“Three!” I say confidently as I write the names of each brewery on an order sheet. I still can’t believe I forgot to tell him about this yesterday, must have been all the anxiety. We’ve been having such a great time talking about it today. Allen and I both sit at the desk in his office, him in his chair, and me on the stool. “Though, they all are technically only trial runs.” I lean back against the wall grinning with my arms behind my head. “God damn, maybe I should send people in disguise to buy up all the cookies.” I laugh.
“That’s a great idea! They don’t know what I look like, do they?” Allen asks. He doesn’t chuckle at all.
“Oh yeah!” I lean forward. “What time should I pick you up?” I ask with a smirk.
“You won’t need to, son! My car is going to be ready by Thursday!”
“No, wait, better idea! I think I’ll stick around the last brewery and hype them up myself! There’s always so many kids in that Goddamn place too! Kids LOVE cookies!”
“What are you two even shouting about in there?” Danny asks, dragging the broom behind him.
“The breweries,” I answer.
“Again? Didn’t you two talk about this like ten thousand times already?”
“We like to talk about it,” I say, my smile drifting. I look away from him and then back. When our eyes meet again, he still looks perplexed. “Alrighty,” I say and clap my hands together once. “Front of the store, swept?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. Get the mop,” I say standing.
“It’s not even dirty, Peter.”
“Doesn’t matter, needs to be done every night, you know this. Let’s go.”
He grunts a bit and drags the broom out of my sight toward the back of the store. I know he’s tired after lacrosse practice, and quite smelly, but I think this extra responsibility a couple of times a week is doing him well.
“So how are the cookies going to get to the breweries. Remind me?” Allen asks. I smile, and eagerly sit back down. I pull a blank piece of paper out from the desk drawer and “click click” on the pen. I briskly draw a map of the East end of Long Island, including stars for each brewery.
“I’ll come into the bakery first thing in the morning to make the cookies, and I’m thinking that this is the exact route I’ll take for drop off.”
“I see.” Allen says, pressing his glasses tightly to his face. “You know, you make a great manager.”
I look toward Allen, my map can wait. “I do?”
“You’re better than anyone I could’ve ever dreamed of! So ambitious and creative… I mean, look at these sales! I’ve never done anything like this before!”
A warmth rushes throughout my body. I’ve only felt this once before with Melissa. It’s the feeling you get when someone says they’re proud of you, and this time it’s a man! It’s a baker! This is strange. I want to say something back, but I can’t find the words. I never learned how to respond in a situation like this.
“So yeah! So long as it all works out, I’ll do the same thing next weekend too,” I say, turning back toward the map.
“I’m DONE!” I hear Danny shout from the front of the store. There’s no way he could have mopped adequately in that time frame.
“I’m coming to CHECK YOUR WORK! Floors better be DRIED too!” I turn to Allen again. “I’ll be right back.”
As I exit the office and enter the kitchen, I’m stopped by a man I know dressed in a clean and ironed apron. He looks square at me, unimpressed, disgusted almost. He’s leaning on the nearest counter. I can’t hold eye contact with him, he’s the only one who makes me feel this small, and he’s a tiny guy himself. Hell, I would have fought Tristian before I stood up to Mr. Glas.
“Had to bring alcohol into it, didn’t ye?” he says in Gaelic with a sarcastic chuckle.
I look him in the eyes and tilt my head with a smirk.
“Actually, it was a good idea,” I respond.
For once, I don’t run. I walk. Right past him, and into the front of the house where Danny is. I’m not healed. I’ll never be. But tonight, I’m just too damn pleased with myself to let him ruin it.
Hayley
I’m feeding Everleigh her bottle in the living room. All is quiet until Krista walks in, dragging a big black garbage bag. I wipe Everleigh’s face with her bib and look over.
“Donations,” she says with a big exhale. She leans up against the wall and fans herself with her hand. It is kind of stuffy in here. Beth walks swiftly into the room and immediately starts digging through the bag, The other women are not far behind her. Pants, shirts, and dresses fly around. Damn, I could use some of that stuff. I hardly have any clothes at all.
“Any bras?”
“You have to dig, Jada.” Krista responds. Her eyes are closed. She continues fanning her face.
“Why does everyone have to be so rude here all the Goddamn time?” Jada asks, rolling her eyes and stomping her feet. I don’t know her very well, but the only interactions I’ve had with her have been negative. The other women side eye her, I try not to look at all, even though it’s tempting.
“What the fuck are you looking at, Destiny?’ she asks, growing closer to her target and pointing her long nails at her face.
“Nobody is even looking at you Jada, for real!” Beth yells out. She grabs Jada by her shoulders and pulls her back out of Destiny’s face.
“You know what?” Krista asks. She grabs the bag and ties it closed in a really pissy way. I totally forget that I was in the middle of feeding Everleigh until she cries out. I stick the bottle back in her mouth to keep her quiet. “Bag’s going in the office. I don’t have to put up with any of this.”
The women continue bickering amongst one another as Krista drags the bag out of the room. They mostly blame Jada for the clothes being taken away. Jada still holds tightly to what looks like a pair of leggings. I look down at Everleigh. She’s not even phased by all the yelling and fighting that goes on around here anymore. She’s gotten used to it pretty quickly. I hate that for her.
“That’s none of your business, though!” Destiny yells out, clapping her hands in Jada’s face. It really looks like they’re about to fight. I don’t want any of this. I take Everleigh and walk up the stairs as quickly as I can. When I reach our room, I sit on the bed and cradle her into my chest. I pat her back lightly. “I want to go home,” I whisper to myself. I rock back and forth and think a lot, I have nothing else to do but think. What is home? What home am I talking about? Mom’s house? Hell no. Melissa’s? Maybe. The apartment? I don’t know if I’ve ever felt at home in my entire life. I stand, kiss Everleigh’s head, and place her gently in the crib. I pick up my phone to find a message. It’s Greg, the guy from Craigslist. He asks if I have the deposit available yet. It’s two months’ rent plus security, equaling a little more than two thousand dollars. I only have one thousand saved up so far.
Danny
“So, no bakery tonight?”
I slam my locker shut. I recognize that voice.
“No, thank God,” I say with a big dumb smile. Selena’s shoulder is leaned up against the locker next to mine. She smiles back at me. “Just on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“You free tonight after practice, then?” We walk together down the hall slowly.
“Yeah, yeah, for sure.”
“Cool.”
“I’ll take the late bus to your place.”
“Oh,” she says. It’s a weird “oh.” She doesn’t seem too happy about it. What did I say wrong? Crap.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah, we just always go to my house. When are you going to invite me over to yours?”
Fuck. Uh…Crap. “You know my brother is weird and annoying.”
“He can’t be that bad. I don’t even care, anyway.”
“Your mom is so chill. My brother will make us do homework. He’d be like weirdly smiling at us the whole time too.”
“It would just be nice to go to your place for once is all.”
I’m pretty sure she’ll change her mind about that once she realizes how dinky our apartment is. Not much to see.
“Well, you could come to my place. Actually, you know what? We can chill with my brother. He’s actually doing something cool this weekend.”
“He is?”
“Yeah, weird, huh? He’s delivering cookies to three breweries. I overheard him talking about it with his boss like one thousand times last night. He’s going to hang out at the last one and try to convince people to buy the cookies. He’s a terrible actor too, so it’s probably going to be really funny.”
“Think we can get beer?”
“Uh…” I make fists with my hands and squeeze them four times. “Probably not. My brother sees everything. He’s like an eagle.”
“Eagles see everything? I thought those were hawks.”
I stop walking and I face her. She’s surprised by the sudden freeze. “Yeah, because they’re up above in the sky?” I wave my hands above my head.
“Right,” she laughs and grabs my hand. WOW! We start walking again.
“The brewery has pool tables though, and good food.”
“They let kids into breweries?”
“Are you kidding me? It’s MOSTLY kids! It’s because millennials are so stressed out with their babies, they drag them along while they get drunk. We will be like some of the oldest ones there! My brother says it’s ‘like a feckin’ Chuck E. Cheese!’” I say in my best Scottish accent.
“Wait, are you joking? You’re not being serious.” She laughs. Yes! Score. Girls love to laugh.
“Dead serious.”
“So, a bar with children?”
“Yes, exactly, and pizza. Like a Chuck E. Cheese. The only thing that’s missing is the arcade games. But like I said, there is a pool table.”
“That’s so weird…”
“Millennials are weird, Selena. You’d know that if you lived with one.”
“Huh…”
“Yup.”
We walk until we reach the locker room. We have to separate now, but I don’t want to.
“So, late bus after school?” I ask, gripping the strap of my backpack.
“Alright, and brewery Saturday?”
“Uh… I mean, I haven’t asked Peter yet, but I’ll get him to say yes.”
“You’re sure you will?”
“One hundred percent.”
“OK,” she says and leans in.
Oh shit I think she’s trying to kiss me! I hold my breath. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to breathe when you kiss. I lean down and wrap my arms around her. I stop thinking too, and just do what comes to my brain. I lift her up in the air because she’s too short to kiss without bending down. Our lips touch real fast and I put her back down on the floor. It’s the fastest thing ever. She laughs. Oh crap she’s laughing! It’s not good when girls laugh after you kiss them!
“Well, I gotta get to practice now!” I say and turn around.
“OK! Bye, Danny! See you later!”
She still wants to see me later! I skip into the locker room as fastly as possible. “WOO!” I scream. Some of the guys look at me weirdly, and I don’t even give a crap!
Kara
I’ve set my bedroom up just the way I like it. I’ve put my bed on the opposite wall where Hayley had hers. I’ve also added a photo collage of my friends and family to the closet door and put my own lamp on my dresser. I would like to have a desk in my room, not that I work from home much, but I think it would be a good place to put my printer and my MacBook.
Living here has been quieter than I expected. Peter and Danny are hardly ever home. The most I hear is a little bit of teenage angst… Oh, and some banging on the wall from Danny’s room. He must be throwing a ball or something. Other than that, the loudest noise is the whistling of the kettle at night. I’m surprised when I look in the fridge in the morning. For the past two days, there’s been two plates wrapped in aluminum foil. One labeled “Kara,” and the other “Danny.” Other than my mother, no one has ever cooked me dinner every night. Peter meal preps the night before. He’s very organized and systematic about everything. I find it sweet that he includes me in family dinners.
At around 3am, I hear gagging from the bathroom. I think it’s Peter. This isn’t the alarm that I like to wake up to. I try to close my eyes and fall back to sleep, I don’t have to be up until 6am for Pilates. It’s impossible to sleep through this, the sound of it is making me nauseous as well. Could he still have a stomach virus? He didn’t seem sick last night. In fact, I think he went to work.
I sit up and drag myself over to the bathroom. The door is ajar, not closed. The light is off, but the flashlight on his phone is turned on, almost like a nightlight. He’s sitting on the floor shirtless, leaned up against the cabinet under the sink. His eyes are closed at the moment.
“Are you OK?’
“Huh?” he jolts awake. “Oh, yeah. I’m OK. Sorry. Did I wake you?” he asks, but closes his eyes again and leans his head back against the cabinet.
“Yeah, you did.”
“My apologies.” He clears his throat.
“You think you still have a virus?”
“No idea…Hey Kara?” he opens one eye to look at me.
“Yes?”
“Can you stop talking to me please?”
“Oh… Uhm… Sorry. I’m just worried about you.”
“I’m OK. I’ll be going back to bed soon,” he says between hiccups.
“What did you eat?”
“Kara, please? I need to just sit here in silence for a bit.”
“OK, OK… I’m leaving. Do you want your pillow?”
“Actually, yes. That would be nice, thank you.”
I walk into his bedroom. It’s spotlessly clean and his bed is made. He really made his bed before heading to the toilet? I grab his pillow and I sniff it. Is that weird? I just like the smell of the laundry detergent he uses. I’m going to ask him what brand it is. Maybe he’ll share. I grab the water bottle from his bedside table as well.
When I return to the bathroom, he’s in the same spot, still hiccupping, eyes closed.
“Your pillow smells good.”
He opens one eye again, reaches out for the pillow, and stuffs it behind his head.
“Downy Unstoppables.”
“Is that detergent?”
“No, it’s—” he lunges toward the toilet and wretches into it violently.
“It’s OK, it’s OK. We can talk about it later. I’ll stop talking now.” I walk toward him and rub his back. He’s shaking. His skin is cold and clammy. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” I ask…still talking.
“It’s like— It’s these little beads you put in the washing machine before you add your laundry.”
“Got it, thanks… Maybe a blanket?”
“No. I’m fine.” He folds his arms over the toilet seat and rests his head on them. Usually, I’d think that’s gross, but he cleans that toilet very often… Plus, I can’t say I’ve never done that myself after a long night of drinking.
“Maybe you should see a doctor for this.”
“Maybe,” he says.
“You have Medicaid?”
He looks up at me indignantly. “Why does that matter to you?”
“Just asking is all.”
He moans and turns his head back into the toilet. He reaches up for the handle and flushes. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Well, like you said at the brewery, we’re friends… So, I just want to help.”
“Well thank you, but it’s just a virus.”
I continue to rub his back. He doesn’t turn my way. “Maybe you should drink some water.” I pick up the bottle I brought from his bedroom.
“You didn’t poison it, did you?”
“What? What the hell are you talking about? Why would I do that to you?”
He finally looks back up at me, his eyes beet red. He looks exhausted. He just stares for a while, blinking slowly.
“I don’t know anymore.”
I’m waiting for him to say more, to explain himself. He doesn’t. His eyes are fluttering open and shut, and I can tell he’s drifting off.
“Did someone do that to you before?”
“In one of my nightmares,” he answers, before closing his eyes completely.
“Don’t fall asleep on the toilet, Peter. Can you try to go back to bed?”
“I’d like to stay here, just in case.”
“Alright, hold on.”
I jog back to his room and grab a blanket. When I return to him. I help him off the toilet and back up against the cabinet, I cover his torso with the blanket.
“If you need anything, just wake me up, OK?”
“Alright…Can you leave the water bottle?”
“Of course.”
I hate to leave him there like that, but I do. I check my watch. It’s 3:25 AM. I still have another two and a half hours of sleep to look forward to… Though, I don’t know how I’ll manage that. Maybe if I find some earplugs.
Peter
Allen called me in the wee hours of the morning. He’s not feeling well, and so I had to run the bakery alone today. It wasn’t easy. Not that he’s much help, but he will usually do the register and talk to his regulars. Talking to his regulars. They go on and on. I have shit to do, you know? I don’t have time to talk about the weather, and News 12, and the “back in my day” shit.
I throw the huge sack of garbage into the dumpster outside. Damn, I like when Danny’s here. He carries out the garbage, and does the sweeping and mopping…sort of. If he didn’t have lacrosse practice and homework, I’d give him more hours!
I get in the car and turn on the engine. Allen “doesn’t want to be a burden,” but there’s no way I’m letting him go without dinner tonight. The man loves Wendy’s baked potatoes with sour cream, chives, and a side of chili. I text Kara to tell her I’ll be home late, and then I head to the drive-through and straight to Allen’s.
The line at Wendy’s is non-existent, so when I get the food, I turn on the passenger seat warmer and place the bag on top. Sometimes, if a restaurant isn’t busy, they let the food get cold. Hopefully, that isn’t the case tonight.
When I arrive at Allen’s he doesn’t answer the door. I try the knob, and luckily it’s unlocked. I let myself inside.
“Allen?!” I call out.
“Who’s there?” His voice comes from down the hall.
“Do you know anyone else with a Scottish accent?”
“What are you doing here, Peter? It’s quite late!”
“Brought you dinner.” I shut the door behind me, and swat the fruit flies as I head to his bedroom.
His room is not much better than the rest of the house. There’s piles of clothes everywhere. The sheets are hanging off the bed revealing the mattress. The pillows are worn down and thin from overuse. They need to be retired badly.
“Why did you bring me dinner?”
“You said you weren’t feeling well… Allen, do you have new sheets? I can help you make up the bed.”
“My arthritis was really bad this morning, had a hard time getting up. The sheets pop up from all my tossing and turning.”
“Do you think you can stand up if I help you?”
“Possibly.”
“Why don’t we try that so you can eat dinner? Don’t you have a walker in the living room?”
“I never use the thing.”
“Well… Let’s see if it will help.”
I exit the room and grab the walker. It’s a bit rusty. I push down on it, and it seems sturdy enough, so I carry it back to the bedroom. Allen swings his legs over the side of the bed. They’re frail and white. His toenails need to be clipped, but I’m not doing that. Luckily, his bed is against a wall, and he’s able to prop himself up on it. I hold the walker sturdy as he grips the handles and pushes himself up. He whimpers as his body straightens.
“Feeling OK?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Think you can make it to the kitchen?”
“Let’s give it the old college try.”
He makes his way out of the bedroom slowly and carefully. I follow behind him closely to be sure he doesn’t fall over. When he gets to the kitchen table, I hold the walker tightly in place so that he can sit without wobbling. When he does that, he sighs in relief, and I place the Wendy’s bag in front of him. He opens it, and I sit across from him.
“How was it today?” he asks, while pulling his dinner out of the bag.
“Quiet. Kind of lonely. I’m excited for tomorrow.”
“Yes, are you all prepared?”
“I am. You think you’re still feeling up to meeting me at the breweries?”
“Probably not, but I know you’ll handle it just fine,” he says, mouth full of potato.
“Yeah, I have it under control. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, I’m not worried at all. In fact, I know that you’ll be running the entire bakery quite well when I’m gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean, gone? Don’t talk that way.”
“It’s a fact of life,” he says nonchalantly. He has chili on his chin. Do I say something?
“Well, yes, but not a pleasant one.”
He grabs a napkin from the paper bag and wipes his face. Cool, I didn’t have to say a word.
“Have you ever considered getting help at home?” I ask.
“Help? Like a cleaning lady?”
“No… Like an aid.”
“I don’t want anyone in my house.”
“I can clean it up for you.”
“That’s not why I don’t want anyone in here!” He swats his hand at me like I’m being ridiculous. “I like my privacy. I like my independence!”
“Even if it’s just temporary? Until you’re back on your feet.”
“This happens from time to time, Peter. I’ll be back up in no time.”
“Sure.” I stand up from my chair and look around the kitchen. I check his fridge. There’s food in it, nothing that I would eat though. In fact, I think this whole thing has to be cleared out and restocked. “I could go shopping for you.”
“No need. I order my food on the telephone.”
“Like delivery?”
“No, there’s a grocery service. You just call up and they deliver.”
“Alright…Well what about—”
“Peter,” he says and then continues chewing. “What you’re doing is enough.” He swallows. “Now that I got this walker, I’ll be up and down. I won’t need much more help.”
“Well…I’ll still check in…Until you’re back at work.”
“Only if you want to.”
I sit across from him again. We talk while he finishes his dinner, but not about his health or the condition of his house. He tells me about growing up here in Suffolk County, and how his father owned the bakery before he did. Apparently, it’s been in business since 1910. Over 100 years of business right here in Medford. I think about my own childhood… The similarities our lives could have shared, but it was all taken away from me. No, it wasn’t taken away, it was never mine in the first place.
Danny
It’s Friday, but it’s a weird Friday. Peter is still at work. I think he’s working overtime because of this brewery shit tomorrow. I haven’t even asked him yet if me and Selena can come He’s probably gonna say no, just like he says no to everything else. I really gotta be smart about the way I ask.
Well anyway, that’s not all that’s weird. I’m here with Kara, and I don’t really know her. We haven’t talked at all. She’s in the kitchen though. She’s probably making herself dinner or something. I’m hungry too, so I try to think about something else while I wait for Peter to get home. I grab my water bottle and flip it. It lands on its side, not straight up. Fuck. I try it again, and again. Peter usually orders pizza or something on Friday nights, but how the hell long am I supposed to wait for this guy to get home?! I flip the bottle angrier and angrier.
“Did you get it?!” Kara calls out from the kitchen.
“Get what?”
“The water bottle flip challenge.”
I look at the water bottle still rolling around a little on its side. “Uh, yeah. You know I do every single time!”
“YAS,” she replies.
What the hell? She’s so weird. I laugh. What she’s cooking smells mad good though, so I decide to head toward the kitchen and take a look for myself.
“What’re you eating for dinner?” I ask. I watch as she mixes pasta in a pot and then bends down to look in the oven. “It’s not just for me,” she says with a smart smile.
“Who else is it for?” I itch the inside of my ear because it’s itchy, but also because I’m confused. Did she cook for me? “Did you make some for me too?”
“Peter texted me that he’s going to be home super late, so I got to cooking. I’m really good at chicken parmesan!” She pulls a tray out of the oven. It looks like actual chicken parmesan from a restaurant!
“Wow, you cook?”
“Everyone should know how to cook, Danny. Even you.”
“I’m only fourteen.”
“Maybe it’s time to learn,” she says as she stands on her tippy toes and grabs some plates out of the top cabinet. Then she drains the pasta into one of those holey bowls in the sink.
“I don’t want to learn to cook…OR BAKE!” I say as I step closer.
She shakes her head, without looking at me. She starts putting food on plates. “It’s an important life skill. Hard to get by without knowing how to do it. What would you do if you didn’t have Peter to cook for you?”
“Go back into foster care, I guess.”
She stops serving food and looks at me like I’m crazy, or maybe like she thinks she hurt my feelings? I hate foster care, but it isn’t a bad word, and it’s the truth.
“What? It’s just true,” I say with a smile. I shove my hands into the pocket of my hoodie.
“That’s not what I meant! I’m so sorry!” she wraps her arms around me in a hug. This is weird. I don’t even like when Peter hugs me.
“It’s not something we need to hug about, chill.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry!” She lets go of me real quick and tries to pull herself back together.
Haha, this is kinda funny. She’s so basic.
“I just meant, what will you do when you go away to let’s say, college. Who will cook for you there?” She finishes putting food on the plates and hands me one. I walk over to the kitchen table and sit down. Hey, there’s already forks and knives over here too!
“Uh… I’m not going to no college,” I say with a laugh and take my first bite. Wow, this is good. I start eating really fast. She cooks better than Peter. Can she cook every night?
“Well, what if you get your own apartment one day?”
She is not gonna give up on this, is she? I keep on shoveling food into my mouth.
“Cereal. Frozen Dinners. McDonalds,” I answer begrudgingly without looking up at her.
I hear the sound of aluminum foil ripping. I peek over, and notice her covering a plate and sticking it into the fridge. “Is that for Peter?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“You made him dinner too?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nice of you. He’s not even here.”
“He always leaves my dinner in the fridge.”
“Yeah, but that’s just him. No one else does that.”
“Plenty of people who live together help each other,” she says as she looks inside the fridge. I think she’s moving stuff around.
“You drink Ensure, Danny?”
“What the heck is Ensure?”
“Like a protein shake, you know, after you work out?”
“No, I do a C4 pre-workout, and whey protein after,” I say. I flex my arms, but she doesn’t even look, so I go back to scraping gooey cheese off the sides of my plate.
“I guess Peter drinks these then?” She asks. She finally closes the fridge.
“He doesn’t workout,” I say. “Maybe he should though. He’s scrawny… Imagine him at the gym?” I laugh. I try not to laugh too hard, because I don’t want to choke on my mozzarella.
“Maybe…” She grabs her plate and sits across from me.
“I’m getting the PlayStation 4 pro because you moved in here, you know.”
She laughs really loudly and sarcastically while shaking her head. “Oh really? That’s exciting.”
“Bet.”
We eat our dinner together and talk. We don’t fight at all. It’s weird as fuck. Even when I try to make her annoyed or uncomfortable, she doesn’t even care! She laughs! I like her food. I guess she can stay around just a little bit longer.
Kara
I can hear the arguing from my bedroom. It’s the first time they’ve bickered this loudly. I’m not sure why Peter is home. I was supposed to meet him at the brewery, wasn’t I? He can’t be here to pick me up.
I leave my room wearing my pink flannel pajamas. I sip on green tea as I enter the living room.
“Good morning,” I say. Then I realize it’s midday. I fell back asleep after Pilates.
“Yes, good morning.” Peter responds. Danny glares at him and then slaps his hands down at his sides.
“Is everything OK?”
“Everything is just fine,” Peter says as he collects his wallet and keys from off of the coffee table.
“I just don’t understand why not, Peter! You’re already home!”
Peter faces him once more. “Because I said no, Danny. I don’t need to explain why to you. The answer is no, OK? No.”
“What’re you saying no to?” I ask, glancing up from my tea as I sip.
“He says no to everything!” Danny yells.
Peter looks at me. He doesn’t seem too pleased that I’m questioning him. He comes across as such an authoritarian sometimes.
“Does it matter what I’m saying no to, Kara?” he puts his wallet into the pocket of his jacket and raises his eyebrows.
“Well, I just thought maybe I could help.”
“SEE?! Maybe Kara can help!” Danny shouts back at him.
“There’s no helping with this.”
“Well, I could drive him wherever he needs to go.”
I’ve been trying to build a relationship with Danny. I figure it’s best to be liked by the people you live with. The kid isn’t so bad either. So far, he doesn’t seem to cause any trouble. I think Peter is too strict with him.
“He doesn’t need a ride. He wants me to bring him and his girlfriend to the brewery tonight. I’ll be trying to sell cookies, I don’t have time to supervise two teenagers at a bar.”
“SHE’S NOT EVEN MY GIRLFRIEND!”
“Well, I’ll be there too. I can keep an eye on them.”
Danny’s face snaps over my way. A smile appears. He looks back over at Peter.
“SEE! See! Kara will be there. We won’t even try anything funny. No beer, nothing! We just want to help out and chill! That’s all! Plus, Selena’s mom already said yes because she’s the GOAT of parents.”
Peter grabs his forehead, rubs it, and then drags his hand down his face. His back is up against the wall, literally and figuratively.
“You were supposed to be helping me at the brewery tonight…” he says quietly.
“I can do both. He just promised they won’t try to sneak any alcohol. Don’t you trust him? Cut him some slack”
“Yeah, cut me some slack, bro!” Danny repeats.
Peter’s eyes widen as he takes a deep breath. His face turns red. He claps his hands together audibly a couple of times before rubbing them and looking over at Danny.
“Fine. But we are picking her up in twenty-five minutes, and she better be ready to go, BRO.” He says angrily.
Danny laughs and laughs. He looks over at me and smiles. “Yes! Yes!” He gives me a fist bump me before running toward his bedroom.
I feel like the cool aunt. I like it. My excitement suddenly fleas from my body as I see Peter walk toward me, angrily.
“Leave the parenting to me next time, OK?” He says quietly. He’s very close to me. There is no personal space.
“He’s a good kid, Peter.”
“You don’t know anything about this situation. You’ve been here with us for six days, and you think you can make decisions for me? Make me look small, inferior?”
“Woah. Calm down—”
“I won’t be told to calm down. This was none of your business, but still, you’ve inserted yourself. I don’t appreciate it. Next time, keep your mouth shut.”
He clears his throat, and meanders slowly toward the bathroom. He closes the door, and I hear the faucet run.
I don’t appreciate his fucking tone with me, but I didn’t retort. I was silent. I should have came back at him. Who the hell does he think he is? Next time keep my mouth shut? How about next time I rip you a new asshole, jerk?
Danny comes out of his bedroom in a change of clothes.
“Don’t worry about him,” I say. “He’s just salty.” That’s right. I know some Gen Z language. He covers his mouth and laughs. He picks up his phone and starts texting rapidly. I feel like the cool aunt again.
Peter
It’s times like these when compartmentalizing comes in handy. No, I’ve never been to therapy, but I did read about the method in a book, and it’s something I’m very good at. Imagine taking all of your emotions and organizing them into boxes. Anger, sadness, grief… guilt. You pack them all away neat and tidy in your mind’s closet, and only open them when you’re ready to feel them. I’m never ready to feel some of them, so I try to keep them tucked away tightly as best I can. Anyway, right now I’m smiling and having a great time, even though I would like to give Kara a piece of my mind. I look at her from afar. She won’t even sit next to me. She’s across the bar, but her eyes are on Danny and Selena. At least that’s good.
I’ve been sitting here nursing one beer. Kara doesn’t get it. She knows there was a CPS case, but not much about it. If she truly understood, maybe she’d think twice about why I don’t want to be responsible for bringing two teenagers into a brewery. It’s common sense. This shit just ended, I don’t need to start it all over again. Also, she knows nothing about Danny or what’s happened. He can’t be put through the wringer again.
Danny and Selena are playing pool. They’re drinking seltzers, sans alcohol, smiling and laughing. I’m glad they’re having a good time. Kara’s only having one drink tonight. She said she would drive, and I’m holding her to her word. I think it was sort of an olive branch. It’s the least she could do.
I don’t believe many people have bought cookies yet. I feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach. It’s the kind you feel when those tucked away boxes open, the emotional that turns to physical, not the other way around. I don’t want to disappoint Allen. He just said he was proud of me. Fuck.
I clasp my beer and stand from my stool. I walk over to Selena and Danny at the pool table. I watch them play for about a minute,
“What?” Danny asks, looking up from his pool cue. Can’t he ever be happy to see me? Or at least act like he is? I suppose he’s trying to be cool in front of this girl.
“Nothing, it’s just, these cookies.”
“You mean the ones Danny makes?” Selena asks.
“Excuse me?” I look over at Danny. His eyes dart back and forth.
“Yeah, those!” he yells. “The cookies I make!”
“I meant the ones we’re trying to sell tonight,” I add. I’m not sure I want to get involved in this. “I don’t think they’re selling.”
“I can help you sell them!” Selena adds in. “I was a girl scout! If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s sell cookies.”
“Oh really? How do you plan on selling them?”
“You have an extra cookie?”
“I mean… I’d have to buy it.”
“OK, go get me one!”
I obey command and walk back toward the bar. Damn, I’m listening to a teenage girl. I hope this works. It’s worth a shot, I suppose. I head over to the bar to buy a cookie that I baked. What the fuck am I thinking? I notice the small sign that reads, “HAVE YOUR CAKE. DRINK IT TOO. Cookies $2.00.” I wish it was bigger. Anyway, I point at it and slide four crisp dollar bills over to the bartender. She heads to the back of the bar, and I watch as she places two cookies into a small toaster oven like apparatus. Soon enough, the scent drifts over. Wait, this is good. Really good.
“Excuse me, what are you making?” A young couple asks the bartender. She approaches them, and I watch hopefully as they chat. Soon enough, the bartender is headed to the back of the bar again. This time, she puts a cookie of every flavor into the oven along with the ones I ordered. I swirl my beer in anticipation.
When the bartender hands me my hot cookies, I marvel for just a bit at how gooey and fantastic they look. Then, I walk back over to the pool table. I hand one to Danny and one to Selena. Selena takes her first bite.
“OH MY GOD, THIS IS DELICIOUS!” She basically screams it. People stare. I’m a little embarrassed, but also, I want people to look?
“What are you eating?” the lady at the table next to us asks. “I had to ask,” she says with a chuckle. “You seem to be thoroughly enjoying it.”
“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” Selena answers dramatically, rolling her eyes into the back of her head. “Couldn’t help myself. They’re selling hot cookies! I think this one is S’mores! So good!” She breaks the cookie in half and stretches the marshmallow out as wide as she can.
I turn toward the lady. “Is that a stout?” I ask. She’s holding a dark beer after all. I have the perfect pairing
“Yes.”
“Goes well with chocolate chip cookies. Just a suggestion.”
“Oh, that sounds good. Thanks!”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
I lean against the pool table and watch as the lady continues to chat with her friend. I’m disappointed that they don’t get up immediately. I look over for Selena and Danny, but they’re gone. Fucking hell. I start to sweat, where did they go?! I feel relieved when I see them at another table. Looks like they’re chatting with patrons about my cookies.
Maybe I should try to talk to Kara. I’m not apologizing. She’s the one who needs to apologize… Maybe I should explain my reaction to her. Maybe if she understands why I reacted the way I did, she won’t be as angry? Why should I have to justify myself though? I’m Danny’s parent after all, not her. Oh well.
I walk over to where she’s sitting and lean against the bar. I don’t look at her, I keep my eyes on the kids. She’s still facing the opposite direction, toward the bartender.
“You were right,” I say.
“About?”
“Danny and Selena.”
“Go on.”
“They’re helping, not hindering.”
“I told you, he’s a good kid.”
“Well, if we’re being honest, you hardly know him.”
“But I know you, and you’re being too strict.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you know me. You don’t know me, really.”
“Well, just like you said, I was right.”
“Mhm.” I sip my beer. She’s still getting on my nerves. “After going through months of court dates, and urine tests with CPS, I didn’t really want to be responsible for bringing two teenagers into a bar. You know?” I feel her eyes on me for the first time. I look back at her. “What? You said you know me? I assume you knew that was the reasoning behind my ‘no,’ correct?”
She looks straight ahead again and purses her lips. “Right,” she says. “Well, I’m keeping a close eye on them.”
I laugh. “You aren’t even looking at them.”
She does a quick 180. We both stare at Danny and Selena now.
“Anyway. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. It was uncalled for. I’m working on getting a better control of my emotions. Outward feelings have gotten me nowhere good, trust me.”
“Apology accepted,” she says. I notice her tight grip on her pint glass.
“You’re going to make it warm much too quickly.”
“Huh?”
“The heat from your hands transfers to your drink,” I say, pointing.
“It’s going to get warm anyway. I’m nursing it. Only one for the whole night, remember?”
“I do.” I say. “I’m going to have three.” I smile.
She punches my arm. “I’m sorry too,” she says.
“Thank you.” I answer.
We both sit quietly, eyes fixated on Danny and Selena. She leans her head on my shoulder. I don’t know if it’s because she feels something romantically for me, or perhaps she just feels sorry for me. Hell, I’d feel sorry for me too. I’m a mess. I look down at her red hair. Something deep in my chest tells me to kiss her head. I don’t though. That would probably make things very uncomfortable.
My vision shifts rapidly as I see the lady and her friend from earlier approach the bar. After a couple of minutes, they each walk away holding a cookie. This night is actually going well. I guess I have to thank Danny and Selena for that…No, Kara. Maybe I have to thank all three.
Kara
“Did you not like the chicken?” I ask as he exits the bathroom. His hair is up in a towel. I do that when I get out of the shower too. I try not to laugh, and I’m definitely not going to comment.
“What chicken?”
“The dinner I made for you?”
“It was good.”
“Why is it in the garbage then?”
“Just the leftovers.”
“Looks like the whole plate.”
He sits down on the couch and puts the recliner up. “You were right about this couch.”
“I’ve been right about a lot of things lately, haven’t I?” I approach him and sit.
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, I suppose.”
I roll my eyes. “If you didn’t like it, you could just say so. Danny liked it.”
“It’s not that, Kara,” he looks my way “It has nothing to do with your cooking.” He folds his arms.
“Then what?”
“I’m having some issues.”
“Issues?”
“Yeah. Like. With swallowing? I don’t know. A lot of acid reflux and heartburn problems.”
“Swallowing?!”
“Yeah. Cheese is not my friend. Especially stretchy cheese like mozzarella. I feel like food is getting stuck in my chest. If I’m being honest with myself, I think I have a hernia or something, not a stomach virus.”
“How would you get a hernia? It’s because you’re so uptight! I hear they come from stress.”
“I don’t think it’s from stress…”
“Then what?”
He stays quiet, like he has an idea of what could have caused it, but doesn’t want to say it out loud. OH MY GOD, it’s probably from drinking! He did only have two beers last night! That’s nothing for him! At least he’s working on himself. Probably because of that CPS drama.
“Uhm… I don’t know, really,” he answers.
“You think you should go to a doctor?”
“I went to doctor Google last night,” he laughs. “Many times actually.”
“Oh my God, you know that shit is always wrong.”
“Anyway, Web MD says that over the counter medications should treat it, so I’m trying that first. I’m thinking it will go away on its own eventually…That, or I’m dying,” he says with another laugh.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have had those beers last night.”
“On the contrary, beer is one of the things I have no issues swallowing. Strange, really.”
“You’re an ass.”
“No, I swear. Liquids are just fine.”
“So that’s why you’re drinking Ensures?”
“Do you know how to mind your own business at all? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I thought you would be a quiet houseguest. Should have known better. Medicaid, CPS, Ensures… Any more questions for me?”
“Yeah, is Hayley in prison?” I feel like I have the right to know, and this was the perfect opportunity to ask.
His reaction is not as I expected. He coughs and then laughs. If he was drinking something, I think he would have spit it out all over me “Is Hayley in prison?!” he asks. “What makes you think she’s in prison?!”
“All the drug stuff you told me she did? Leaving her clothes behind?”
“What a sleuth you are… That does make sense. No, I don’t think she’s in prison?” he answers. He squints his eyes a bit, like he’s honestly considering the possibility. “I mean, maybe she is? I haven’t seen her in eight months. God, I hope she’s not in prison. Actually, maybe that would straighten her out a bit.”
Wait… SO she’s not?! Then what the fuck. This really makes no sense at all. I thought I’d had it figured out.
“Look, I’ll tell you this. Remember I told you I got the shit kicked out of me the night you left me behind?”
“Yeah?”
“Her boyfriend did it.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, and then they ran away and didn’t come back… Please don’t mention this to Danny, it’s a sore spot.”
“A sore spot?! That’s one way to put it!” I gently place my hands on his legs, but he laughs at my attempt to comfort him.
“Sorry, I don’t find it funny…but if I don’t laugh, I might cry. I’m not one to cry in front of people. I cry alone in my car like a man.”
“Why did he beat you up?”
“I don’t know. A lot was going on. And you saw the condition I was in that night. Not good.”
“Yeah, you were hammered.”
He looks up at the ceiling and folds his hands together on his chest. “Kara, I wasn’t—”
“Then what?”
“Nothing. But yeah, he beat the shit out of me and the two of them ran away. So, maybe they are in jail or prison or something. I don’t know. All I know is she has a brand-new wardrobe, and I have my very own douche canoe shirt.”
“Right…” Next time I make dinner, I’ll try to stick to softer food. What he usually makes for dinner isn’t soft though, is it? Let’s see… He made tacos one night, chicken, pork loin… No, not soft at all. Does he eat what he cooks? I don’t watch him eat. “But if you don’t feel better soon, you should probably get yourself checked out.”
“If it doesn’t go away, I will. But it comes and goes. Sometimes I’m better than other times. I don’t even have the time in the day to go to the doctor.”
“That’s a shitty excuse.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe after the holidays. Once all the craziness dies down. If I’m not feeling a little better by then, I’ll see someone. It’s crazy at the bakery right now.”
“OK.”
He picks up the remote and turns on the TV.
“What do you want to watch?” he asks.
I snatch the remote from his hand and put on “Keeping Up With The Kardashians.” He grumbles a little bit, but after the first ten minutes, he starts asking me questions about the characters. I try to explain who everyone is and what’s happening, but he’s more interested in how they accumulated so much wealth and how their butts got so big. After a while, we are cuddling together on the couch.
Danny
We’re sitting in Selena’s basement watching Netflix. She’s got this big projector, and even a bar down here. It’s epic, and probably the size of our entire apartment. She’s even got a popcorn maker. The best part about it is that Selena’s mom lets us drink! She says she prefers that we drink in the house than sneak around and drink outside! I can’t tell Peter, because he would never let me come over here again. Also, I make sure I don’t drink that much so that he can’t smell it on my breath when I get home. He’s got eyes like an eagle and a nose like a—What animal does a lot of sniffing? A drug dog. A nose like a drug dog. Ugh—dogs. I don’t like thinking about dogs anymore. It reminds me of that violent night, and what Tristian called me.
“Last night was fun,” Selena says. She sips a Truly.
“Yeah. Peter says we can come every weekend if we want. We did a really good job. Sold lots of cookies. He’s gonna tell his boss all about it tomorrow. We made bank.” I pick up my Modelo and take a sip. Beer is nasty, but I can’t drink a Truly because it’s for girls.
“Is he gonna pay us?”
“HAH! No way in Hell.”
“Why miss Reese’s party then?”
I’m confused. Reese is having another party? …and he invited my girlfriend?! Well, not officially my girlfriend yet, but he knows what he’s doing.
“Reese’s party?”
“Yeah, on the 17th?”
“He never invites me to anything… he invited you?”
Now she looks all awkward and stuff. She plays with her hair and looks down at her phone. “Yeah, he texted me an invitation. I just assumed he invited you too, since you’re both on the lacrosse team…See?” she holds her phone up in front of my face and I snatch it from her hand.
Saturday, the 17th… 7pm
I hand the phone back to her, but I kinda chuck it and drop it at the same time. She picks it up off of the ground.
“Don’t break my phone!”
“Didn’t mean to do that. Why’s he inviting you to a party?”
“Why isn’t he inviting you?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. Overheard Noah and Preston talking that his parties are lame as fuck anyway. I don’t want to sit around in his parent’s freezing cold basement. We could just chill in your nice basement.”
It’s weird that he invited Selena and not me. I hope she doesn’t want to go. All I’ll be thinking about is what’s going on over there. It’s shady. Also, I always thought Reese didn’t like me because I’m brown. Selena is brown too, I think? We have basically the same skin color, but she has darker, pointier eyes, and much straighter hair. I look at her closely now. She’s very pretty.
“What are you staring at?” she asks.
“Selena, what are you?”
“A person,” she laughs.
“Yeah me too, but like, are you Black?”
“Black? No.”
“Spanish?”
“I’m Filipina and Puerto Rican.”
“Oh.”
“How about you?”
“It makes me mad because I don’t even know,” I say. I slump down further into the couch. “It’s a big secret or something.”
“Why is it a secret?”
“I never met my birth parents, so I thought—”
Selena grabs the remote and pauses the show we’re watching. She seems like she cares about this. She folds her legs, criss–cross applesauce and faces me.
“I thought,” I continue, “I thought maybe Peter could buy me a DNA kit for Christmas, but he said no, as usual.”
“Hold up. Why did Reese’s party make you think about all of this?”
“You didn’t go to middle school with us, but he never liked me, not even then. He talked to everyone but me and was just a fucking asshole to me all the time. Well, me and Matt, but the Matt thing makes sense, the me thing doesn’t! He was nice to all the white kids…Well, except Matt. But like I said, the Matt thing makes sense!”
“So you think he didn’t invite you to the party because of your skin color?”
“I have no idea! But honestly, school sucks anyway! I don’t fit in with the white kids, and the Black kids don’t talk to me at all...I don’t fit in anywhere! It’s so freakin’ dumb! And then this one guy—he—he called me a mutt! I don’t even know what that means, but I know it’s like a dog, and not a good kind of dog! Not the kind people pay lots of money for. I can’t stop thinking about it!”
“We’re gonna confront Reese about this,” she says, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“What?! No!” I push her hand off my shoulder. “I don’t want to talk to him about it. I’ll look like a pussy!”
“Then what are you gonna do? Just let it happen?”
“I don’t know… I just don’t want you to go to his party, that’s all. You can turn the show back on now.” I take another handful of popcorn and stuff it in my mouth. I look back at the screen.
“It’s OK. I won’t go.”
“You won’t?” I ask. popcorn spits out of my mouth as I turn toward her again.
“EW!” she laughs and wipes the spitty kernels from off of her face.
“Sorry, sorry!” I laugh too.
We hold hands and she comes in closer to me. I like this.
“We can just go to the brewery with your brother again. That was fun anyway. Better than what everyone will be doing at Reese’s house.”
“True,” I sip my Modelo again. I try not to make a disgusted face. “Wow, this is good,” I say.
“Which one of them called you a mutt?”
Crap. I shouldn’t have said anything about what Tristian said. I haven’t told anyone that that happened, not even Peter. I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hands to relieve some of my anxiety.
“Some guy that doesn’t go to our school anymore,” I answer.
“He sounds like an asshole.”
“Yeah, he was a fucking loser, anyway, so it doesn’t even matter.”
Selena turns the show back on, but I can’t even pay attention. I bite on my nails. I can’t see the screen, I just see Peter covered in blood, untying me from my desk, the loud music Tristian played on his phone, Hayley sobbing on the floor.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say. I get up quickly and power walk. When I get in the bathroom, I shut the door and flick the lights on and off exactly four times.
Hayley
I sit patiently in the waiting room of the DSS center, holding tight to Everleigh. It’s always crowded in here, and no one smiles. The woman sitting across from me cracks her knuckles really loudly over and over again. She says something angrily, but I don’t think she’s talking to me, or to anyone for that matter. Maybe she’s crazy, or maybe she’s talking to God. Hell, I do the same thing.
I’m only here to recertify my benefits, but the wait is so long. A smelly man wearing dirty clothes is sitting next to me. He coughs, and I pull Everleigh in closer to my chest. Too many germs floating around this place for an infant.
With one hand, I pull my phone out of my pocket. Still no messages. Fuck. I sent Greg every cent I had on Friday afternoon. Eleven hundred dollars. I skipped Christmas presents, I’ve been wearing the same clothes for what feels like a lifetime… It’s been days… Where is he?
I add another unanswered message to my collection. I’m really hoping that he’ll respond to this one, but in the back of my mind I know that I’ve been scammed. There is no apartment, is there? I shove my phone back into my pocket and hold Everleigh with both arms. I hope there’s a way to get my money back. I want to cry, but I don’t. There’s no use in that anymore. I just wait for my name to be called.
Kara
It’s another full night of work for Peter. Apparently, the local library called. They’re hosting a gingerbread house decorating class tomorrow evening for the kids, but the baker dropped out last minute. She’s sick or something. Peter’s at the bakery preparing twenty-five gingerbread houses now. He’s been doing so well with his baking career, I’m very impressed.
Danny took the late bus home. He’s playing his new PS4 in the living room, the one he got as a tradeoff for me moving in here. I laugh at the thought of it. I look away from the simmering soup I’m stirring. When I glance at my phone, I notice a Snapchat from Peter. The video shows the huge standing mixer, hard at work. The camera then turns to him. He’s wearing a beard and a Santa hat. He looks incredibly bored.
I respond with a picture of me leaning into the camera, doing a kissy face. It’s fun to be a little flirty. And I do miss him when he isn’t home. Isn’t that so odd? I thought I would be relieved whenever he was out of the house.
“What are you cooking up tonight?” Danny asks, entering the kitchen. He looks into the pot.
“It’s butternut squash soup.”
“Vegetable soup?! What else?”
“Well, this is just soup.”
“I’m a growing boy, I need to eat more than soup.”
“I’ll make you a sandwich too.”
“What kind of sandwich?”
“You know what, I’ll teach you how to make grilled cheese. That will be a super easy first cooking lesson.”
He throws his head back and stomps one foot. “I don’t want a cooking lesson though. I’ll just make chicken nuggets in the microwave. Why’d you only make soup for dinner?”
“It’s something Peter can eat.”
“What do you mean? Peter can eat what he wants, he weighs like ninety pounds.”
“That’s an over-exaggeration, Danny.”
He laughs a little bit, walks over to the kitchen table, and takes a seat. I look back down into the pot and stir. I give the soup a quick taste. Needs more salt. I pick up the shaker and add just a dash more, and give it another sip. Much better. Suddenly, I hear what sounds like clapping. I look over at Danny. He’s opening and closing his hands into fists rapidly. His eyes blink in sync with the movements.
“What do you mean, something that Peter can eat? Is he sick or something?” he asks.
“No, not contagious or anything.”
He smacks his lips together a few times with his eyebrows furrowed. He seems to be getting worried. I’ve never seen him act like this before. It’s odd.
“He’s OK, Danny.”
“Like he can’t eat food that isn’t soup? Is it because of all this heartburn he’s been getting? He needs to go to a doctor! I’ve been telling him this since—since—” he stands up quickly and jolts out of the room. He looks traumatized. I’m stunned.
I put down the ladle I’ve been stirring with and follow behind him. He’s already in his bedroom with the door shut. From beneath the door, I can see that he’s turning the lights on and off, on and off. I hear him talking.
“Why is Kara saying you can’t eat though?!” I hear each and every breath he takes. “Peter, I keep telling you— I’m NOT STUPID! — I don’t want to talk when you get home! Why can’t you ever—”
I knock on the door, but he ignores me, so I try to open it. It’s locked.
“LEAVE ME ALONE, OK?!” he shouts. I think he’s talking to me.
“Oh, uhm…OK. Let me know when you want to talk.”
“I DON’T EVER WANT TO TALK!”
I feel hollow inside. I can’t believe I caused him this much pain. I can’t believe he didn’t already realize that Peter wasn’t eating. He’s only fourteen, I never should have said anything to him. He probably thinks Peter is really sick…which, maybe he could be? God, I hope not. Crap, Peter is probably going to be pissed at me when he gets home.
Seonaid
I watch from across the table as Lachlann scarfs down the last remnants of his breakfast. He eats like a man, or perhaps a pig? Is there a difference between those two creatures anyway? I grab his plate from under his fingers as he picks up the last few crumbs.
“I wasn’t done yet,” he says. I look back down at the plate in my hand.
“There’s nothing left on here,” I say.
“Fine, take it away then.”
I walk to the sink and drop the dish into it. When I turn around, he’s already standing. But has he pushed in his chair? Of course not. Something else for me to do. I walk over to the table and push in his chair. He doesn’t thank me, he’s tying up his boots. He’s got egg yolk stuck in his long red beard.
“Think maybe you’d wash your face first?” I ask.
“Gonna get dirty out there anyway,” he says with a shrug.
I walk over to the coat rack and pick up my scarf. I wrap it around my neck tightly.
“You going out?”
“Aye,” I say as I place a hat on top of my head.
“Where to now? Don’t you ever stay home anymore?”
“To do what, Lachlann? To sit around?”
“Well ye can do the dishes, can’t you?”
“There’s only one dish—Here,” I say as I head back to the sink. I wipe the dish off with a wet rag and stick it on the drying rack. “All done with that now,” I say, returning to the door.
“You better not get too used to going out every day. What’ll ye do when we have children?”
“Children?” I ask. “When did we plan on doing that?”
“Sometime soon, I was thinking. Could use a boy around here to help me out on the farm.”
“Look at ye, putting our unborn child to work. Think you can pick their gender? Bet ye already have a name picked out too huh?” I roll my eyes. We're still young. No reason to rush into children. I put on my coat and button it up to the very top.
“Seamus is good I think.”
How predictable. He really has picked out a name. An ugly one too. “Seamus? What a hideous name.”
“That’s the name of my great grandfather! Seamus Catanach! Was a fine man, and a hell of a farmer! The very start of Catanach farms,” he says, looking up to the ceiling with his hand over his heart.
“When we have a child, we’re not naming him Seamus, if I have any say about it.”
“There’s no fighting with you , Seonaid. Go on, go, go sow yer wild oats.” He walks out the front door. I watch from the window as he heads further into the farm.
Sow my wild oats? What? Take a walk into town? That’s just about as wild as it gets here. I slip on my boots and walk briskly out the door. The wind is on my back, so it pushes me along as I head down the hill and toward town. Even the wind knows I don’t belong cramped up in that stuffy old house all day long.
Kara
I see who’s calling on the ID screen of my desk phone, but I’m trying to put together a quote. Can’t he just text me? Or just leave a message? I’ll get back to him.
“State Farm, this is Julia.”
I look across the office and see that Julia has picked up the incoming call. Fucking hell. I guess I should have told her I was ignoring it on purpose.
“Some angry Scottish guy wants to talk to you,” she says in between chomps on her gum. “Computer doesn’t recognize the number, so I guess he doesn’t have a policy.”
“Yup, I know.” I minimize the page on my screen.
“You want me to send him over to you?”
“Sure.” I put my headset on and wait for my phone to ring. Peter and I haven’t spoken at all since before the Danny thing last night. I played it smart and went to bed before he got home. “Thank you for calling State Farm, this is Kara speaking.”
“Come off it. You know it’s me.”
“I’m sorry, who is this?” Maybe this isn’t the best time for sarcasm, but it’s my only defense mechanism.
“Are you still coming tonight?”
“To gingerbread?”
“Yeah, to gingerbread.”
Wow, he didn’t respond sarcastically at all.
“I suppose.”
“Why are you ignoring my phone calls? I tried you on your cell twice. I wanted to see if you can stop by Costco and get a big bag of red and green M&M’s before the event. They should have it there. Oh, and some paper bowls.”
He’s not mad? Is this a trick or something? It’s suspicious. I know I was wrong. If I was him, I’d be mad. Didn’t Julia say he sounded angry? Maybe Scottish people just always sound kinda angry.
“You’re not mad?” I whisper into my headset while spinning my chair to face the wall behind me. This is none of my coworker’s business.
“About?”
“Danny?”
“Oh, I’m absolutely furious about that.”
I laugh and wrap my hair around my fingers anxiously, twisting back and forth in my seat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
“Again, there’s a lot of things you don’t know. Like I said though, I’m working on controlling my emotions. But please, M&M’s and paper bowls.”
“Got it. Should I come straight from work?”
“Well, stop home first.”
“Why?”
“Your punishment is laid out on your bed.”
“My punishment? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“A lot.” He doesn’t chuckle. I’m imagining him saying it with a straight face. He’s scary sometimes for a little elf man.
“Look, I have to go. I’m in the middle of writing a huge policy.”
“Lots of money?”
“Exactly.”
“You going to share?”
“Have you shared any of the baking money you’ve been raking in with me?”
“Don’t talk about that! We’re on a recorded line!”
“What, is it top secret?”
“Kind of.”
“Everything is with you. SO sorry, forgot the government is listening.”
“They are, and they’re always ready to tax the shit out of you, me, and everyone.”
“You’re out of your mind. I gotta go. Can’t stay to talk about conspiracies any longer. Buh-bye.”
“M&M’s and—”
I click the button on my headset to end the call and turn my desk chair back around. I maximize the quote screen on my computer. This guy’s car insurance premium alone is going to cost him over $1000 per month, and that’s not even full coverage. I feel bad at my joy on account of his misery, but this is going to be some great commission. I smile and I don’t really feel guilty about it. Then I remember my punishment… What the fuck could be on my bed?
Peter
I’ve brought a sweat towel with me, which is quite gross because I’m in a library and not a gym. I’m glad I did though, because it’s hot as Hell in this basement. I have twenty-five gingerbread houses set up in front of twenty-five little chairs. All of them are accompanied by mini piping bags full of icing, and candies of all sorts and colors. All that’s missing are the M&Ms. I think I did a nice job. I should take a picture to show Allen. Maybe that will lift his spirits a bit.
Kara is quite the sight when she enters. She doesn’t look pleased, but I’m just giddy. She wears a full Gingerbread man costume. The top of the gingerbread man’s head hits the entry way as she walks in.
“Very funny, I can’t believe you,” she says.
I lift my phone and take a picture of her. “Oh, wow. Very nice. Really adds the finishing touches to the evening. What do the kids say? The vibes. It makes vibes. You have the M&M’s?”
She hands me the bag as well as a container of plastic bowls.
“Perfect,” I say. “Now, you know what a gingerbread man does, right?”
“Gets eaten?”
“No, no. He runs around in circles and screams ‘You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!””
“Kay. Well, I’m not doing that.”
I laugh as I turn Christmas music on my portable speaker. “You think it’s loud enough?”
“Yeah, perfect.”
“Cool. Can you put the M&M’s in bowls… One on each table, along with a plastic spoon?”
“Yep.”
I set up my Bluetooth microphone. I figure kids are loud, I’ll have to talk over them to give directions. I watch her as she walks around to each table.
“This is really cute. You made all these houses?” she asks.
“Yeah, last night and this morning. I assembled them all once I got here.”
“You could do this professionally.”
“This is professionally…”
“I mean like, I kinda want to decorate one myself. I would pay to do this as an adult.”
That’s a great idea. I wonder if we could do something like that at the bakery… with wine! “I like the way you think, Kara. Let’s add some booze to the mix,” I say.
“Have your cake, drink it too, right?” She answers with a smile.
“Yeah, exactly. I would totally do that. Working at the bakery has been rough though. I’m literally the only employee… and my boss hasn’t shown up since Friday, and at this rate, I’m not sure he’s ever coming back.”
“Are you serious? You were out late last night.”
“I finished up with the gingerbread, picked dinner up for him, and then when I got to his house, I started cleaning, I couldn’t help it! It’s a disaster!”
“Really?”
“The place is fucking falling apart! And now, he can hardly get out of bed! He needs so much help. He’s getting worse and worse. It’s like he’s deteriorating, and fast! I told him I would help him get an aide or something in his house, but he refuses! He’s making this really difficult for me!”
“You think he’s going to die?”
“Die?” I ask. I’ve been kind of putting that thought off. You know, compartmentalizing it. Every time I start to make someone proud, they die. Melissa, for example. “Not yet. He’s too young to die.”
“Isn’t he like in his 80’s?”
“Well, yeah.” This makes me think of Adair. He died. He was only seven years old. Now that’s really too young to die. You can die at any age, I suppose. Many people have proven this to me. I’ve seen death all across the board. “I guess no one is too young to die.” I clear my throat as a child enters the room accompanied by her mother. Her eyes light up when she sees all of the gingerbread houses.
“Mommy, Look! Look!”
“Welcome!” Kara says.
“What are you wearing?!” The little girl laughs, pointing at her.
“You ever see Shrek?”
Jesus Christ, Mary, and Joseph… Doesn’t Kara know the tale of the Gingerbread man? It’s not only from Shrek.
“Oh yeah!” she laughs, “Gingy!”
I stay quiet. I’m not good at talking to kids, I rarely talk to them. I observe from the front of the room as Kara leads the girl and her mom to a seat. More and more people start to enter. I’m a little nervous. I’m not a great public speaker, and sometimes people can’t understand my accent, but I do know how to decorate a gingerbread house. I can do this.
“You can do it, Seamus!” I look to the very back of the room. There’s a little boy I recognize. I’m glad he’s here with me now, and always.
Danny
I’m waiting outside the school. Kara picks me up after Lacrosse practice on Tuesday and Thursday nights now, and drives me to the bakery. It makes life easier for Peter. I like her a little bit, because she likes to make things easier for him. She’s way different than Hayley.
I’m on Google on my phone. I search: Heartburn, puking, soft foods only. Nothing really comes up besides something called GERD. It’s basically when stomach acid rises up from, well, your stomach I guess, and it’s not supposed to be there. So, yeah, the acid causes all of that bad stuff. It says you can take medicine for it, like Tums, which Peter already does. I’m relieved to see that there’s nothing serious in the search result. I was expecting to see death, and hopelessness.
Something loud plops down next to me. Of course it’s Matt and his big ass backpack. I hide my phone.
“Long day, huh?” Matt asks.
“Yep,” I respond looking straight ahead. Come on, Kara, where are you?
“So…You going to Reese’s party next weekend?”
Are. You. Fucking. Serious.
“He invited you?!” I say kinda surprised like, and in a mean way. I don’t even care.
“No.”
“Oh, OK. Good.”
“Good? What does that mean, Danny?”
“Nothing, he just didn’t invite me either is all.” I pick my phone back up and rest my forearms on my legs, leaning forward.
“I’m still gonna go though,” he says.
I tilt my head sideways and look up at him smirking. “Are you for real?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna go. My mom’s dropping me off.”
“Uh…OK.”
“You should come.”
“Why would I do that ? I’m gonna Netflix and chill with my girl instead.”
“YOU NETFLIX AND CHILL WITH HER?!” He asks. He’s shook. His glasses almost fall off of his face. I laugh.
“We Netflix and chill all the time.” It’s not even a lie… I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“Wow… Danny…You’re the baddest kid I know.”
“Bet,” I respond and look back down at my phone.
“I guess it makes sense you don’t wanna go considering all the shit Reese talks about you.”
“Shit?! What shit does he talk about me?”
“Oh, you never heard him? He said that Selena is way out of your league, especially since you’re like dirt poor and stuff.”
Poor? Is that what this is about? Being poor? Matt is poor too! He lives in the same apartment complex as me! Oh wait… Reese doesn’t like Matt either.
“Yeah, he said you and your brother are on food stamps, and that all your clothes are from the Good Will. He said that right in front of me too.”
“And?! What’d you say back to him?!
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Seriously Matt?!”
“Hey, you didn’t stick up for me when Noah and Preston were laughing about Carla Schuman!”
“That’s not even the same thing!”
“Yes it is! Sometimes it’s like you aren’t even my friend anymore! All we ever do is go to the gym, and you ignore me the whole time!”
“My clothes aren’t even from the Good Will! That’s a lie!”
“My family is on Food Stamps too. It doesn’t even matter.”
“How would he know anything about our families?!”
“Said his mom saw your brother pay with an EBT card at Stop and Shop. He said it’s really funny how he has wads of cash in his pocket, but needs to steal from the government.”
I’m boiling. I stand up and walk back and forth. I grab my backpack and launch it at the school’s brick wall. Matt stands.
“Yo, chill.”
“We’re going to that fucking party,” I say, picking up my backpack. “You and me. We’re both going to that fucking lame ass party and fucking shit up.”
“Yeah! Wait, no. We shouldn’t do anything bad. I’ll get in big trouble.”
“Yeah, me too. Who the fuck even cares anymore! Fucking cocksucker!”
Kara’s car pulls up. She smiles and waves at me. I can’t smile, I’m angry as fuck, man. Matt’s just ogling at me, like he’s never seen me throw shit before. He’s seen me throw shit before.
“I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow,” I say to Matt without turning around, I lift my hand up in a quick little wave.
“Uh…OK! See you later, Danny.”
I open the passenger door and Kara’s car dings. I put my seatbelt on and slump down in the seat with my arms folded.
“Everything OK?” she asks, flipping her sunglasses over her eyes.
“Just drive.”
“Alrighty then.” She puts the car in gear and we start moving. I roll down the window and spit angrily. Who the fuck does this kid think he is?