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Kenzi isn’t any better.
I see her at the hospital when she comes in for Otto’s visits. Or, sometimes, after my shift I’ll go to her place and invite myself to family dinner. Family movie time. She seems grateful for the extra pair of hands, anyway—Kenzi could never admit it, but she could use the help. Pearl isn’t exactly one to get her hands wet doing the dishes.
But every time we’re alone, she immediately launches into another conversation about Jason. Currently, her favorite thing to do is list all the reasons she despises him, each reason pettier than the last.
I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to put some distance there. Trying to convince herself out of her feelings for him. And I let her, because it’s what she needs. Tonight, the agenda on the table is:
“—and it genuinely bothers me that he doesn’t jerk off.”
“Uh-huh.” I scrub caked mac and cheese off a plate. “What about it bothers you?”
She sighs, like it’s obvious. “He needs other people for his own pleasure. It’s codependent.”
“Or,” I counter, “maybe he just values intimacy over orgasms.”
She squints at me, like I’ve just stabbed her in the back. “Seriously?”
I shrug. “Just a thought. But what do I know. I jerk off every time Brad Pitt has a new movie out. Speaking of.” I dry off my hands on a dish towel with a mermaid on it. Then I reach into my saddlebag hanging off the back of a chair and hunt around until I find what I’m looking for. I pull out a small, thin, silver box with a ribbon around it and hold it out to Kenzi. “Here. I couldn’t find a good time to give you this. Merry Christmas.”
She blinks at the gift like it might grow teeth and bite her. “You didn’t have to.”
“I’m aware.”
She starts to pull on the ribbon, but I quickly interject. “Open it when you’re alone. Not here.”
She presses her lips together in a smile. “You’re the worst. Now I need to get you something.”
“Please don’t.”
“What? Why not?”
“Knowing you it will be something…bizarre.”
“Hmm…how about a taxidermized frog? Wearing a top hat and a cane. Like the WB frog, remember?”
It takes everything within me not to smile. “Case in point.”
She presses a kiss to my cheek. Her scent lingers, though—an intoxicating hint of peach.
“You’re sweet,” she says.
“Keep that to yourself.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Otto’s small figure approach. I put a little distance between Kenzi and me, relaxing into the counter instead, and dry my hands on a dish towel.
“Hey, Otto,” I say, alerting Kenzi to his presence. “What’s up?”
He’s already tucked into his pajamas: a cozy-looking long shirt and pant set covered in rocket ships. He hangs on the back of a chair. He rocks back and forth, rocking the furniture with him—in kid language, he’s playing it cool. “Nothing. I was just seeing if you wanted to watch a show with us.”
“What’re we watching?”
He bunches his shoulders high around his ears. “Whatever.”
“Hmm. Does that mean I get to pick?”
He nods eagerly. I imagine anything I pick will probably be better than the reruns of Golden Girls Pearl has put him through.
“Okay,” I say. “Knock, knock.”
