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“I know. You introduced yourself at the restaurant.”
“Yes, I remember that. By the way, how did you like your steak?”
“It’s a steak. Very hard to ruin it.”
“Oh no, it’s not, trust me.” I gestured to him. “Meat is the one thing I can’t cook, but I can make just about everything else. I have this cookbook, you see, and I’ve been trying out a bunch of Mediterranean dishes, and they actually come out pretty good, as long as I don’t attempt to put meat on it. Today, I’m making a manakish for dinner. You ever had that before?”
He shook his head.
“Well, you can try it. If you wanted to stay that long, that is.”
“Hmm,” he said noncommittally, then he got up. “I’m going to take care of that mess at the back first.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” I started saying, but he was already heading to the backyard. Without so much as an adieu, he hefted a heavy bag and then another over his shoulders and started walking around the front.
“Hold on. Wait,” I said and rushed after him, grabbing a smaller bag and accompanying him as he went.
We made more small talk, during which he explained that he owned a security agency and moved into town for some business opportunities, although he didn’t exactly explain that. He asked me more questions about my family, but I answered somewhat vaguely, not telling him anything specific.
By the time we got back, I was feeling more relaxed around him, and I began making dinner, still chatting with him.
My mood was high and light until I looked outside and noticed how dark it was.
And then realized I hadn’t slept the whole day, which meant I was in so much fucking trouble.
TWELVE
EZRA
I sensed the moment Tillie began tensing up once again.
At first, she was talking easily, telling me all about the time during her childhood when she’d insisted on everyone she knew coming to watch her one-way woman play of Les Misérables. She laughed as she said it was during what she termed her acting phase. She’d been completely relaxed in the retelling, holding none of her usual anger and sarcasm that she wielded as a defense. In fact, she’d seemed almost…happy.
It was a happy childhood memory for her, which meant that whatever conflict between her and her dad happened after her childhood. I wondered when it began. I knew adolescence could be different and difficult, and for parents, teenagers were notoriously hard to get along with. But honestly, I expected Max would have been the exception to that. He was so personable and understanding and did not seem like the strict type. On the team, Max was definitely one of the most likable men, the one most people didn’t mind being in the jungle with. And I couldn’t see Max as the one to impose harsh rules toward his daughter unless she was being very unreasonable. But for all intents and purposes, Tillie didn’t strike me as unreasonable.
So what was it?
Or had their conflict been triggered by something else, maybe by her mother running off with another man? Abandonment like that had to be difficult to endure, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Tillie took that animosity out on her father. Perhaps that was part of the reason she broke down yesterday. Maybe it was because she was feeling guilty for how she’d treated him. Or maybe she realized she’d subconsciously blamed her father for something that wasn’t his fault.
But in that case, why didn’t she bother to at least plan a funeral or something for him? Why did she sound almost bitter when she talked about him, like his death was nothing more than an inconvenience for her? Was she simply avoiding the pain from it all? Or was there something else going on?
Because so far, all I’d found out was that she was a happy camper when she was a kid and that she and her father never got along. She didn’t seem to hold much animosity toward her mother either, which was strange, considering the woman abandoned her. I also noted that, overall, she didn’t like to talk about her family much. Whenever the conversation stayed too long on that topic, she would always try to steer it to something else. She tried as much as possible to keep the conversation light and funny, and surprisingly, I went along with it.
But the most shocking thing of all was how much I was actually enjoying talking to her.
I was typically a man who hated small talk, and I didn’t think I would have anything to say to a girl so young. But even from one conversation, I could tell she was pretty mature for her age. She accepted the hardships of life calmly and seemed to take misfortune on the chin. She seemed like someone who’d been put through a lot and didn’t expect anything from life.
Still, I saw the disappointment in her smile when she said she couldn’t afford college. I made a mental note to find a way to make it happen. If going to college was something she really wanted to do, then I would make sure she got into the best one she could find, with no consideration toward the cost.
But I could already tell that would be relatively complicated. I knew she wouldn’t accept the money from me outright. She had too much pride for that. But maybe I could set up a scholarship and push her to apply for it. That way, when she got the money, she would simply think it was the result of the scholarship.
“Hey, I was gonna heat up some soup for dinner,” she said suddenly. “To have with the manakish. You want some?”
“Sure,” I said because I wanted to spend more time with her. Both to find out information and simply because I was enjoying my time with her.
As she moved to the fridge to open it, she glanced outside the window. That was when I noticed her shoulders get stiff, and fear flashed across her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, drawing her gaze back to me.
