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“That sounds good,” Holly said, cracking a smile through the tears.
* * *
I flipped the large pancake (was there any other acceptable size to make them), listening to the sizzle as the other side cooked. Behind me, Holly huddled over the cardboard-box-seat, hugging a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate to her chest. She looked like a sad little girl who needed her mother to tell her everything would be alright. I wasn’t her mother. Still had a million problems of my own. So, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do in this situation exactly. Obviously, I wasnotin a place to help anyone else. But here she was—someone who could also see Jamie, might I add—and I knew I needed to be here for her.
I glanced back at Holly for a moment, watching her stare into the hot chocolate. I suddenly wished Jamie and I had picked up a set of chairs, and a set of dishes/mugs, for the kitchen when we were at IKEA.
My heart hurt for her, and she hadn’t even told us about what had happened yet. I thought about asking her if she called the cops. If she wanted me to take her to the police station to file a report. But I didn’t want to suggest any of this until she’d told me the circumstances.
Jamie stood next to me, leaning into the corner where the two counters met—one side leading to the stove where I was flipping pancakes, the other where the sink was. We locked eyes for a moment, his blue eyes shining with concern. I could tell he had things he wished to tell me privately. Thoughts he had on this. Thoughts we still had to share with each other on everything else going on that we had yet to discuss.
However, for the moment anyway, he held his tongue.
I finished with the one pancake, flopping it onto a white plastic plate on the counter next to the stove. Made a few more the same way. Then, continued the process until I’d made an entire stack of pancakes.
“Do you like syrup?” I asked, bringing over a plate of three pancakes and silverware on top in one hand, Aunt Jemima syrup in the other.
“Abso-friggin-lutely,” Holly said, eyes lighting up. “Thank you so much! For everything. Really.”
“Tell me when,” I said, handing her the plate as I drizzled the syrup over top. Knowing how Holly liked her coffee, I assumed these pancakes were going to be drenched in syrup. Sure enough, the “when” came after it was safe to say that Holly liked pancakes with her syrup.
“I guess you like syrup?” Jamie asked, grinning. “Me too. Used to love it, anyway.” Then, he slapped a hand over his mouth and turned away. If Holly noticed his slip, she didn’t question him or show any facial signs of confusion.
“Are you kidding? Love it,” Holly said. “As a general rule, if the food’s got sugar as the primary ingredient, I like it.” Holly stuffed her face with a large piece of pancake.
“You should see the way she takes her coffee,” I told Jamie, smiling.
I threw a couple of pancakes on my own plate and leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen, cutting through with a fork slowly. Jamie remained on my left and Holly on my right, sitting on top of the three cardboard boxes stacked together on the floor.
“So…” I started to say, unsure of how or when to breach the subject of what the hell was going on with her. Besides, she was still eating her pancakes. I figured I at least needed to let her eat. The truth part in “truth with pancakes” probably came after she ate them. Not before.
“My mom’s boyfriend is a douchebag,” Holly blurted out, seemingly out of nowhere, like she read what my thoughts had been. Completely voiding my previous theory re: eating first. My muscles tightened at the idea that her boyfriend was the first piece of the conversation she decided to bring up, knowing full well what that must mean.
Holly stuffed another bite into her mouth and chewed, her eyes focusing on the floor.
“Your mom’s boyfriend did this to you?” Jamie asked, arms crossed.
“Yeah.” Holly sighed.
“What the fuck,” I said. “Holly…”
“I turned eighteen last week. He told me I needed to move out. He’s giving me till the end of the week,” Holly said. “I mean, I can go live with my dad. I just… moving is going to be a pain in the ass.”
“But Holly… that doesn’t give him any right to touch you,” Jamie said.
“Yeah! How long has he been physical harming you? Was he the one who marked you up last time?” I asked.
She let out another sigh.
“Yeah,” she said, meekly.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” I asked, voice raising an octave. Then, I stopped myself. If I had been in her situation, would I have told the truth? Not being sure who I could trust? Not sure what adult in the world wouldn’t burn me.No. I most definitely wouldn’t have.
I hadn’t even told Jamie how I was feeling back at Stony Point.
“Nevermind,” I added, words soft. “I get it.”
“Me too,” Jamie said, catching my gaze once more. Our eyes locked for a moment before he turned away, seemingly embarrassed.
