“Well, you are allowed in this kitchen whenever you want, as long as you stay safe. So, who wants to learn how to cook?” I ask again.
“Me!” Both of them shout at the same time.
“Shall we make pasta?” I ask.
They nod.
“Alright. You two are going to learn how to make sauce and how to cut tomatoes,” I explain.
“Simon,” Selene says nervously. “The knife…”
“The knife is very, very sharp,” I say to the kids, hold ignoring her as she has ignored me. “So, we have to be very careful with it and treat it with respect, not like it is a toy, okay?”
“Ok,” Arron says sternly, taking it from me as though it’s made from glass.
I wrap my hand around the back of his hand. It’s a small, serrated knife, and it’s perfectly safe for him to use as long as he’s careful and I keep an eye on him. I show him how to keep his fingers out of the way while he slices slowly over the tomato.
Solenne is not interested in cutting things. She wants to stir things.
Cooking with the children is more fun than I anticipated.
Yes, there is flour everywhere, and tomato paste is on the sides of the cabinets. And there is uncooked pasta on the floor. But I’m having more fun than I have had in a long time.
Chapter6 - Selene
Watching them cook is heartbreaking. It reminds me of how Simon and I used to love cooking together. He was so patient when he was teaching me, as patient as he is being with the kids right now.
And watching their little face light up now, it aches deep inside me because I don’t get to see them smile like this. Not at my father’s house, and not while we were running for the past two months.
I’m still exhausted from it. Since we got to Simon’s home, I have been sleeping too much. But I can’t help it. There hasn’t been anyone to look after the kids while I sleep—until now. There hasn’t been anyone else to read to them or spend time with them, and while I am loath to admit it, I am so, so grateful that he is interested in getting to know them and being a dad for them.
I watch in slow motion as Solenne spills the entire bag of flour over the kitchen floor. I wince as it hits the ground, and Solenne and Arron both freeze, terrified of what will happen next. They grew up watching my father react to mistakes. And he reacted with intense and immediate anger. Sometimes he would lash out, sometimes he would scream at them. Sometimes he would hit me.
I find that I’ve also tensed, gritting my jaw and waiting for the inevitable.
But Simon is not my father. Not inthat way.
He doesn’t seem to notice how terrified the children are in their frozen state. He laughs. A genuine, kind laugh, as he leans over to scoop Solenne off the floor and out of the center of the mess. “Oh dear. You’re making it snow inside the kitchen,”he says, chuckling as he places her sitting on the edge of the counter. “Don’t move, little monster. I’ll grab the broom.”
Solenne glances at me, her eyes wide and rimmed with tears.
Arron is staring at Simon.
Simon notices the tension and looks from me to the kids. Solenne bursts into tears. “I sorry!” she yelps, scooting back on the counter.
Simon knots his brows and hurries back to her. “Sweetheart, hey, it’s okay. It’s really okay. It’s just flour. We can clean it up quickly. I’m not angry at all,” he says, picking her up and hugging her.
Arron looks confused, but some of the tension drifts from his little body.
He climbs down from the chair and looks up at Simon, cautiously saying, “I can sweep.”
“You can?” Simon says. “Do you want to help me clean it?”
Arron nods, and Simon sets Solenne back on the counter to watch. She wipes her eyes and starts giving instructions on how to clean, saying they missed spots. I go to find a mop and a bucket to clean the floor after it’s been swept.
By the time the flour is back to how it was before, the kids are laughing again and have forgotten about their moment of fear.
Their fear breaks my heart.
