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A shiver goes through me at the view.
Is he mine?
Daniel’s question from earlier strikes me again, and although Jay is neither his nor my son, I don’t know why a twisted part of me is wishing for that.
It’s the same part that I’ve been trying to purge from my life since I was young.
Stinging moisture gathers in my lids and I quickly whirl around and dab at my eyes with the back of my sleeves.
What the hell am I doing?
It took me years to tuck away those unrequited feelings and all the pain that came with them.
Years. Damn years. And it still feels as if I’m stuck at the same point.
I get busy making dinner, opting for fish today since it’s Jay’s favorite. I also make white rice balls and sprinkle them with a mixture of Indian spices.
Every now and then, I slide my attention to the living area to find Daniel engrossed in my brother’s homework. It seems he’s struggling, too, judging by the deep frown on his forehead.
He was always a slacker in class with a complete “fuck the world” attitude. He probably only passed them because he thought falling behind was a nuisance.
And yes, I shouldn’t know this much about him, but it’s a disease.
I’ve come down with the Daniel flu, and apparently, it’s chronic.
Every time we make eye contact, a weird frisson goes through my body, as if it’s about to possess me.
And I always break it first, desperate to escape his pull in any way possible.
“Dinner’s ready,” I shout once I’m done.
Jay shoots up from the sofa like a lithe tiger, followed by Lolli, who’s mewing her head off.
I put some fish in her bowl and she gets busy eating and ignoring everyone else.
My brother and I transport the dishes to the living area, where Daniel is still sitting, legs crossed as if he’s a king and we’re his servants.
Twat.
I move to sit opposite him on the floor, but Jay snatches the position and I’m forced to take a seat beside Daniel on the sofa.
I try not to get sucked into his warmth or look at him as I reach for my utensils.
The keyword beingtry.
The air is always sucked up from my surroundings whenever he’s in the room, the building, the school, city, country, world.
Sometimes, just the thought of him existing somewhere on earth is enough to steal my damn oxygen.
“It’s so good, Nikki!” Jay exclaims, stuffing his face with rice.
I reach over and remove the rice grains that are stuck to his lip. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I don’t like it, I love it.” My brother glares at Daniel, who’s eating in an eerily silent manner. It’s like he’s afraid to make any motion or make any sound. “What about you, Daniel? Any comments?”
My boss swallows with difficulty. “It’s food.”
“It’s not just any food. It’s Nikki’s and it’s the best you’ve ever had. Admit it.”
