I sat at the counter and watched him slice and chop vegetables. He finally took pity on my uselessness and let me peel potatoes but not without a thorough tutorial first. He had marinated chicken thighs in different spices and set them under the broiler. “You really know what you’re doing, don’t you?” I was amazed by his skills in the kitchen. “Who taught you how to cook?”
“My mom. She went to culinary school, but came back here after she graduated. She wanted to open her own restaurant, but then she married my dad and had Mason and me, so she kept putting it off.” He dropped some chopped onions into a pan. They sizzled and popped when they hit the oil. “Your mom never taught you how to cook?” he asked.
“I’m not a good cook,” I said.
“That didn’t answer the question,” He answered.
“Why do you want to know about my mother?”
“I just want to know you,” he said. I know he was serious about getting to know me, but my frustration was growing like it did every time I allowed that woman into my thoughts for more than a minute without dismissing her.
“What do you want me to tell you? Because I honestly can’t think of a single thing my mother actually taught me. Oh, wait. She did teach me how to tie off those yellow rubber tubes really good and tight around her arm so she could find part of a vein she hadn’t treated like a dart board. That was, of course, until she’d exhausted all those veins and they died in her arms like I wished she would have every time she picked up the goddamned needle or snorted some shit up her fucking nose.”
I got up and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I was mad, but not at Jake. I was mad I had let myself get that upset. The woman who gave birth to me wasn’t even worth my anger. I’d had a handle on it since the very last day I’d ever seen her, though I don’t know if I could really call avoidance having a handle on it.
After a several minutes, there was a knock at the door. “Bee?”
“Yeah?” I kind of liked his nickname for me. I’d never had one before.
“I’m sorry I pushed. I said I wasn’t going to, but I was curious, and I let it get the better of me. I won’t do it again.” He was apologizing to me when I was the one who acted like a giant ass-hat.
I opened the door. “You shouldn’t apologize. I’m just screwed up and you’re probably thinking that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, and I understand, I’m just gonna go and—”
“We’re all a little damaged, Bee. Some of us more than others.” It was better he knew sooner rather than later how damaged I really was. He smiled and gestured to the counter where there was more food than any two people could consume in one lifetime. “Besides, you can’t go anywhere. Who is going to eat all this? I got a little carried away.”
“No shit,” I agreed. “Are you feeding an army?”
“I do eat a lot,” he said, patting his stomach. I could see the lines of his abs under his shirt.
“Yeah, you should knock off all the eating. It’s really making you gross to look at.”
“I’m vain enough to know that isn’t true, so I’m just gonna let that little insult slide.”
We sat at the bar and ate our food. Jake had made some sort of sliced potatoes he fried in butter with baked chicken thighs. The crispy skin was my favorite part. He also prepared roasted corn and a simple salad with dressing he’d made himself.
I was going to be very spoiled by the time I turned eighteen. And very, very fat.
“What do you like to do?” he asked. “Like, as a hobby?”
I had to think about whether or not smoking weed could be considered a hobby. “Not much. I can take pictures—or, at least, I think I can take pictures. In school they had loaner cameras for the photography class and I took to it pretty well. Even learned how to use the dark room to develop them. I had a knack for it, but at the end of the semester we had to give the cameras back, so I never got to find out if I was any good.”
“My dad might have a camera around you can use,” he offered. “I’ll see if it’s in his office somewhere.” He popped a slice of potato into his mouth with his fingers.
“Really? I mean, I don’t want to take his camera.”
“It’s nothing. I know he’s never even used it. I think I saw it the other day in his office. I’ll grab it for you tomorrow. No big deal.”
No big deal? It was a huge deal. I wasn’t used to people just handing over expensive possessions for me to use.
When we’d finished and I’d consumed more food than anyone my size should ever attempt to eat, I volunteered to clear our plates and do the dishes since I hadn’t contributed anything useful to the delicious meal I’d just devoured.