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“You did this on purpose. You have a different apron, don’t you?”
“I actually don’t. Want to switch?” She points to her own apron.
“Yes, but I want lasagna more. Let’s get started.”
She nods and hands me a brownie pan. I don’t think it’s really called a brownie pan, but it’s the right size I remember Mom using for brownies all the time.
“Think you can handle spraying this with cooking oil?”
I give an exaggerated frown. “This might shock you, but I fry eggs all the time. I know my way around cooking spray.”
She shakes her head and tosses me a can. I cover the brownie pan with a heavy layer of oil. No part of the lasagna is going to be wasted by sticking to the pan. Next, Brie has me grating mozzarella cheese.
There’s a quiet awkwardness between us. I’m reminded of the last time I saw her. Tears dripped down her cheeks and hurt filled every inch of her gaze. I’ve carried the memory for a long time. Remorse kept me from thinking of anything to say to break the silence. Brie belonged in Bearwood and I didn’t. I’d done the right thing that day. She wanted a happily ever after, and I no longer believed such a thing existed. My parents killed the idea the moment they destroyed our family.
I pause my cheese grating. It’s fine. It just makes cooking lasagna with her seven years later as unexpected as Professor Snape’s unbreakable vow. I didn’t see either coming. Hopefully, the outcome of dinner won’t result in murder though. Mine, specifically.
“What do you plan to do while you’re in Bearwood?” Brie asks. Her voice is chill. Is there a chance she has forgiven me? Or does she not care about our past together? Oddly enough, I’m not sure which one I want it to be.
I shift my weight so I’m looking at her. “I’m planning on lying low, taking care of my mom, and helping Travis at the office. As soon as I’m finished, I’ll be out of your hair.”
She raises one perfectly shaped brow. “You do know it’s the holidays, right?”
“What does that have to do with anything? Christmas is just another day of the year.”
She points a spoon covered in sauce at me, flinging drips on the counter. “You did not say that.”
I push her hand away, not wanting to touch the messy spoon. I’m a little worried about what she plans to do with it, but I should’ve been more worried about touching her. The back of her hand is silky smooth. I shake it off and say, “I’m not a grinch. My Christian heart can get sentimental like everyone else, but I’m not married to any traditions either.”
“As long as Christmas is still special, I suppose I can respect your level of celebration.” She seems satisfied enough to stir the sauce again. “But you should at least have some fun while you’re in town. I don’t know how much vacation time you get, but it seems a shame to waste it sitting in an unfurnished duplex.”
“I’ll be working remotely here and there.” I didn’t want to mention how I don’t take many vacation days. Besides a few trips over the years with some of my buddies in the city, it isn’t enjoyable for me to travel by myself. I might die being in Bearwood this long. I’m a guy who needs purpose in his day. But I have a feeling I will need the entire vacation to convince my mom why she needs to move in with me. I’ve flown her out to visit me as often as possible, but her health is making it harder for her to travel. Brie doesn’t need to know all the details. “Maybe I’ll squeeze in some fun. We’ll see.” I don’t make any promises I can’t keep. “What about you? What are your plans?”
She starts layering noodles over a layer of sauce in the pan. “I have two more days of teaching before my break.”
I wipe some of the cheese out of the inside of the grater. “My mom mentioned you taught at the elementary school. I always thought you would dance professionally.” Brie’s mom used to drive her over an hour for lessons. I’ve never seen such intense dedication, but talent like hers was worth investing in.
She lifts her gaze slowly to meet mine. Those blues as perfect as the sky on a clear day momentarily darken. “Some dreams aren’t meant to be. I tore my ACL right before auditions and had to have surgery. The recovery was brutally slow, and I was low on funds. It was a sign. Dancing wasn’t a practical choice to support myself with. Teaching is a more steady, long-term gig.”
A pang of sadness strikes me on her behalf. She must’ve been devastated. Mom never told me about her injury or her missed auditions. It must’ve been during the all-consuming divorce battle, but I’m sorry I didn’t know. I should’ve been there for her.
I pick at a clump on the grater. It was better I didn’t know. We all have unfulfilled dreams. There was a time before my parents split that I thought I’d come back to Bearwood after college, marry Brie, and raise a family. My life is completely different than what I’d imagined back then. But what high schooler has anything figured out? “You were always good with kids. I bet you’re an amazing teacher.” I say it to appease my own guilt as much as to offer sympathy.
“Thanks. I love my job. Someday, I hope to rent out a space and teach dance classes on the side.” She blinks. “I don’t know why I told you that. It’s a pipe dream. I’ve actually never told anyone about it before.”
A part of me is pleased she would confide in me. We used to be each other’s confidants. She has to know I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. “I hope you get your space.” She deserves to have a portion of her dream. She should keep working toward it.
She laughs softly. “We’ll see. I still need to save a little longer.”
I finish shredding the cheese block, nearly nicking my fingers in the process. “You didn’t tell me what you had planned for your break.” Now we’re talking, I don’t want to go back to the weird silence.
“The usual. The extended Holland family dinner, get in some baking and holiday movies, a gift exchange with my friends, deep-clean my closet so I can donate a few things, and of course, hit up Wassail Night.”
“Sounds like the Christmases in Bearwood I remember. Maybe not cleaning the closet, but definitely Wassail Night.”
“Isn’t it the best? You should go.”
I shake my head. “Hard pass. Wassail Night is for teenagers crushing on each other and kids getting high on sugar. Not my scene.”
