After grabbing a bowl and some cereal, I get the milk from the fridge and slide into my chair. The tile is cold under my bare feet and the wooden chair isn’t comfortable to sit in this early in the morning.
“Did you have a good time last night?” Uncle Jasper asks.
“Yeah, I guess.” I pour some cereal and I feel like he’s waiting for more of an answer, so I say, “It was good to get out of the house.”
Without looking over he says, “What’s a four-letter word for ‘too old to be fun’?”
I look at him pointedly. “You know what I mean.” I watch him pencil in more letters, trying to remember if he ever did them when I was younger. “When did you start doing crosswords?”
“A few years ago.” He pauses and looks up, one hand slipping into the handle of his mug. “It helps to keep my mind distracted from the times when she would normally be here.”
It’s an answer I wasn’t at all expecting. “Does it work?”
A small, sad smile appears. “Sometimes.” He puts his pencil down and his eyes shift between me and a certain spot on the table. “You know, when I first found out about Kale and his ability, I asked him something very selfish of me. Of course, now I know he can’t change the past and I would do anything to take back what I asked of him. But even though I knew there was probably nothing Kale could do to change anything, I wanted to see her again. Just once more.” Uncle Jasper takes a deep breath, trying to smile.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty for asking that,” I say. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”
“But I do, especially these days when he’s going through something much worse than I ever have.” He picks up his pencil again, but he doesn’t write more words into the squares. He’s thinking about something else. “I keep confessing things to you, and I don’t know why. All you do is sit there and it just comes out.”
“Maybe I should become a therapist,” I joke.
“Or maybe you should study something actually worthwhile.”
I laugh a little, still thinking about Kale and what happened last night. “Does Kale ever have, like … panic attacks, or anything?”
His hand pauses over the paper and he looks up. “Did something happen last night?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what. One minute he was fine, and the next he was really freaked out. He was shaking and his skin was cold, and I didn’t know what else to do but get him out of there. For a moment I thought he would disappear before I got him outside. It was like he was seeing something that wasn’t there.”
Uncle Jasper taps the pencil eraser to his chin. “Did something happen right before that? Something that might have triggered it?”
I shrug once. “I think someone set off a cherry bomb or something, but it wasn’t very loud.”
Uncle Jasper nods, like he knows something I don’t. “That was probably it then. Have you ever heard of post-traumatic stress disorder?” I nod and he continues. “It’s common when a person has been through a war, or even so much as a bad car accident—it depends on the person.”
“So, you think that’s what happened?”
“I have no doubt.” For the first time since I’ve lived here, there’s a tinge of real anger behind his eyes. He blinks it away as fast as it came. “It’s something nobody deserves to go through. All we can do is be there for him.” Uncle Jasper gets up from the table and puts his dishes in the sink. His face is wiped of all emotion. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll only be gone for a few hours, then maybe I’ll take a look at those brakes for you.”
I nod as he walks out.
I pour some milk over my cereal, listening to the diminishing sounds of his truck. It’s hard to be here without Aunt Holly. The house doesn’t smell the same. Uncle Jasper doesn’t smile as much. The food doesn’t even taste right. I can only imagine what it would be like if she were still alive.
There’s a small knock on the backdoor, and I look up to see Kale standing on the other side of the screen. He smiles and gives a small wave. Again, I’m reminded of the kiss we shared days ago.
“You’re still here,” I say, trying to sound normal.
“For now, anyway. Can I come in?”
I nod and continue eating my cereal. The screen door shuts behind him and he sits in the chair opposite me. He looks more tired than he did yesterday.
“Did Uncle Jasper already leave?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
Kale glances back at the counter. “He didn’t finish his toast.”
“The wrong subject came up.”
“Aunt Holly?”
I nod and push my bowl away, feeling slightly sick. Kale swipes the hair away from his eyes. It’s getting a little too long to keep tame—no wonder he wore his hat last night.
I push my chair back from the table. “You should get your hair cut.” I put the milk and cereal away, having to close the refrigerator twice before it stays shut. Stupid thing is too old—always has been.
“And who’s going to do it?” he asks. “You?”
I give him a one shoulder shrug. “Sure.”
“Really?”
“I’m not too bad,” I admit. “I used to cut this neighbor kid’s hair because he didn’t want to spend the money. Besides, you don’t need much off. Just a trim.”
He mulls over it for a little while and then agrees. “Okay.”
I find the pair of scissors upstairs—the same pair Aunt Holly used when my own hair got too long all those summers ago. When I come back downstairs, I pull a chair in the middle of the kitchen. “Do you want to take your shirt off so it won’t be itchy the rest of the day?”
He flashes me a smile and pulls his T-shirt off. Once he’s sitting in the chair, I wrap a towel around his shoulders and wet his hair using a spray bottle.
I hesitate before touching his hair, and when I do, it drapes like black silk over my fingers. I feel my breathing thin, and I start cutting before my mind has the chance to wander any further. While I’m trimming the bangs that hang over his forehead, his eyes flicker to meet mine. There’s more blue in them today. A gray and blue storm.
Stay focused.
I try to keep my heart even and make sure I don’t cut my own fingers. After I think I’m done, I set the scissors on the table and finish by running my fingers through his hair, checking the lengths of the layers I cut. As my fingers trace over his scalp, Kale closes his eyes and lets out a soft groan.
“You have no idea how good that feels,” he murmurs.
My fingers freeze in place. I step back and take the towel from around his shoulders. Kale catches my wrist, gently sliding his fingers over my skin. He looks up and says, “Thank you. For more than just the haircut.”
I can only nod. With Kale sitting there, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and his hair still wet and dark, it’s the only thing I can manage to do. Kale stands and slips his T-shirt over his head. Needing to put more space between us, I take a step back until my lower back presses against the counter.
Kale meets my gaze again with a strange expression. One that’s a mixture of uncertainty and daringness.
“I—” He glances away, his breathing deep.