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“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Always,” she replied.
After the shower, she put on a pair of her panties and one of my T-shirts that was oversized on her. She looked perfect. As she went to slide into a pair of pants, I gave her a tired grin. “Pants are overrated.”
She laughed. “So today’s a comfy day? No pants needed?”
“No pants needed whenever you stay with me.”
I cooked her breakfast. A bacon, red pepper, and cheese frittata. As I set her plate in front of her at the dining room table, I felt a pull of nerves hit me. “Just so you’re aware, I’m not a cook like my mother was, so if you hate it, that’s fine.”
She breathed in the aromas and moaned. “There’s no way I’m going to hate this.”
I sat down beside her, and before I began eating, I mumbled a prayer under my breath. I wasn’t a praying kind, but Mom always prayed over our meals whenever we’d sit at that table, so I took up the task for her. It was odd, but that was what fear did to a person. Fear makes a person do things out of character.
I rolled my shoulders back when I finished and began eating. To my surprise, it tasted like Mom’s used to taste. “Oh my god,” we said in unison.
I looked up at Starlet as she shot her stare toward me. “Bravo, Mr. Corti,” she said, applauding. “This is fantastic.”
“Not so bad at all.”
We ate until we were stuffed, and when lunchtime came around, and we ate some more.
I took a break and went to the hospital to sit with Dad for a few hours. Nothing changed, not for the better and not for the worst. I headed back home after visiting hours ended.
Starlet helped me prep dinner, which was an enjoyable experience. We moved around one another as if we were made to run a kitchen together. We’d prepped the dutch oven bread a few hours prior to going with dinner that night—bucatini with lemony carbonara.
My world,
It’s not the most authentic version of carbonara, but when life gives you lemons…make pasta.
Con amore,
Mama
As Starlet made the salad, I walked behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. I paused a moment as a memory flashed back toward me. Dad used to always hug Mom from behind when she was cooking, and he’d kiss her neck.
Grief hit me like a wave. I stepped backward, trying to shake it off.
Starlet turned and noticed my sudden shift.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Do you know how I know?”
“Do tell.”
“Because when you lie, your eyes look cold.”
I chuckled, amused. “And when I tell the truth, how do my eyes look?”
“Alive,” she replied. “They look alive.”
I wanted to shoot off a witty comment, but my sarcastic ways were messed up due to my sadness. So instead, I told the truth. “My parents used to cook together. Mom called Dad her sous chef. They’d play music and dance around the kitchen, hugging and kissing and laughing. As a kid, I thought it was so annoying, but…I don’t know. I just got a flashback of that as I held you.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “The tiny ones hurt the most sometimes.”
“The tiny ones?”
“The memories that seem so small and minuscule. It’s as if you almost forgot they existed until they show up again and knock you backward.”
I nodded. “That was exactly it. But it was odd because…it triggered me, but at the same time, I realized I had what they had with you. I felt what they felt when I held you…” I pulled her into me and kissed her forehead. “I realize that it’s you,” I whispered.
“What’s me?”
“You’re the something that makes me feel better, even on the worst days.”
Her eyes glassed over, and she kissed me slowly. Or perhaps I’d imagined it was slow. Whenever I was around Starlet, it was as if time slowed down in the best possible way.
I smiled at her as my arms wrapped around her body. “You know, I really like seeing you in my T-shirt. It’s almost as if it were made for you.”
She stepped back and spun around. “You think so? Maybe I should’ve put on pants instead of just my underwear.”
I moved over to her and pulled her into a hug. “Oh no. The panties are what makes the look complete.”
I kissed her forehead, and she snuggled into me. “Are you okay, Milo?”
“I am right now.” I always felt better when she was in my arms. I smiled and kissed her. I couldn’t wait for the day we could do that in public. I’d kiss her in front of every single person. We’d be that annoying public displays of affection couple who made people gag.
We stood in the middle of the kitchen holding one another, with no goal of letting go anytime soon. That was until dinner was ready. Then we moved back to the dining room for the third meal of the day.
