Unknown
Hi Dominic. This is June Pinkfordt. I’m sorry it took so long to reach out, but I had to steal your contact information from Celeste’s phone to message you. That girl rarely has her device out of her hands and she has been hovering like a mother hen since the incident. I wanted to thank you properly for your action in helping me, I know it must have been quite a shock. If you could come by the house tomorrow morning, I’d greatly appreciate it. Best, June
My lips twitch up in a half smile at June’s email worthy length of a text message. I save her number into my phone and take a moment to process what she said, mulling over my options. I don’t want to invade Celeste’s space if she’s not ready to see me, but at the same time how the fuck could I turn down June’s request? I chew my lip wondering how to respond. I type out a reply and hit send, wincing, hoping I don’t come off as whiny.
Hi June, it’s no worry. I appreciate your offer but I don’t want to step on Celeste’s toes by being in her space.
My phone vibrates almost immediately.
June
Oh she’s got her head in the books and a schedule filled to the brim with the new semester starting. She won’t even be home tomorrow until dinner. No tasks, I just have something I’d like to give to you. As a little thanks.
Fuck. She’s making it really difficult and I’m pretty sure there’s no wiggle room for me to get out of this.
All right, I’ll be there usual time
I send off that last text while blowing out a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
* * *
June and I sit awkwardly in the living room. Visions of her collapsing replay in my mind as I stare at the very spot she fell only weeks ago. I force down a swallow of the tea she made us. I look up to see her tapping her fingers against her mug before putting it down on the table between us, mindful not to move any of the Scrabble tiles.
“Honey,” she begins, sighing as she looks up at me and gives me a small pity smile. I rub a hand on the back of my neck feeling so out of place. “It’s a trauma. And if you work through it, it’llease.” She nods in an effort to soothe me but instead, I feel the opposite.
“Trauma? I mean, yeah it was hard to watch you go through that.” I glance down at the rug again, gnawing on my lip. “But it’s nothing compared to what you’ve gone through. From what I know anyway, Delaney explained a little when we shared a cab home that day from the hospital.”
June shakes her head at me and leans forward so her forearms are resting on her thighs, hands clasped together, bringing her focus directly on me. She has such a nurturing sense to her that sometimes when it’s directed at me it feels jarring. My focus is down on the rug again, the spot where I held her hand waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
“Dominic, look at me. I’m fine. Healthy as a horse! No glue factory vacation needed.” She laughs a little, and I appreciate her attempt at easing my tension. Her face becomes more serious when she says, “Just because someone has gone through something terrible, horrific,” She closes her eyes briefly and shakes her head as if to dispel the memories. “We can’t go around comparing trauma. That solves nothing and helps no one. Everyone experiences life differently and events will affect people differently.” She leans back, crossing her arms. “Are you getting any sleep?”
“Not really, no,” I say honestly. “But I do plan on meeting with a therapist about it, I have some sessions booked already actually.”
“That’s great! Well, on that note I’d like to give you this.” June moves from the couch to the bookshelf against the wall to my left. My eyes catch on the diorama of a human cell that Celeste made and I swallow down the ache it brings me. June pulls out a large text, carrying it over and handing it to me. It’s a cookbook. Not just that, but it’s an Italian fusion cookbook that lists hundreds of new recipes. I gape at her in surprise. I onlybriefly mentioned my interest in cooking, let alone what cuisine I prefer. I shake my head in disbelief. She smiles and shrugs.
“I’m a good listener,” she says.
“I’ll say. Thank you so much. You really didn’t need to get me a gift at all but this, this is perfect.” A big, goofy smile spreads across my face, for what feels like the first time in weeks. I suddenly feel motivated to go home and cook up a storm for enjoyment instead of distraction.
“So, Dominic, maybe my gift isn’t as altruistic as I’ve led you to believe, but I was hoping, now with fall just around the corner, you could help me with some more tasks before winter comes. If that’s okay with you,” she says innocently, but yet, leaving me barely any room for argument.
“Of course, whatever you need. I really do appreciate this by the way, my parents were…Well they weren’t there for me. I doubt they even know I can cook more than a box of Kraft Dinner.” I’m genuinely so happy at this moment, it feels like a Christmas morning with a parent that really cares. A moment I was robbed of over and over again.
My face falls when reality comes crashing back into my brain. June isn’tmymother. She’s Celeste’s mother. Celeste—the woman I’m monumentally in love with—and here I just agreed to help out around the house, again, inherspace.
“June, I want to make sure Celeste would be okay with this. Me, here, at her house helping out,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster.
She gives me an understanding nod. “Of course. Yes, I ran it by Celeste and she’s absolutely fine with it. She’s very busy anyway, starting her classes this week, tutoring and assistant teaching for a course. Her plate is so full I doubt she’d even notice.” The smile on June’s face is, I’m sure, meant to be reassuring, however there’s something conspiratorial about it.
“First things first, can you change the light bulb in Celeste’s room?” she requests as her phone lights up with an incoming call. “Oh shoot, this is my doctor calling.” June lifts it to her ear and answers before covering the mouth piece and whispering to me, “Bulbs are on the counter, her room is at the end of the hall on the left.” June turns to take the call and I move to give her privacy and begin my task.
Am I a stalker if I was invited to go into Celeste’s room and change a light bulb?
I stand in the middle of her room, the light fixture in question hanging above my head. Everywhere around me is Celeste, through the years from childhood, adolescence, and now early adulthood. There’s a very worn down teddy bear sitting against her pillows that makes me smile. Posters of boy bands and a very emo skull tapestry hanging above her bed from, no doubt, her teen rebellion era. Photos cover a pinboard beside her desk and I step closer to see. There’s some of her with other little kids at birthday parties, one recent one of her and Delaney with a feather boa that looks like it was taken at a New Years party. One with June, her, and a man I don’t recognize but is clearly her dad. She has his eyes. There’s nothing noticeably sinister about him yet my anger at a man I’ve never met swells within me. I turn before I do something stupid like fold him out of the photo, and reach up to change the light bulb. I head back downstairs where June is still on the phone. I stand there patiently, and wait until she’s free.
“Sorry about that. All done?” she asks cheerfully.
“Yeah, it was easy,” I say, moving towards the foyer to put my sneakers back on.
