I touch her arm as we pull up to the door. “Hey,” I say lamely. I’m not good at comforting people. They don’t really cover that at murder school.
She smiles at me and touches my hand.
“Thanks for the ride. Don’t let my kids burn the house down.”
That brings a little smile to her face.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
“Thank you for watching them. Half the time I’m so worried I can barely concentrate on my classes.”
“What do you have tonight?”
“Business ethics. I’ll text Karen when I’m done. No, wait, give me your number.”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
“What?”
She gives me an odd look.
“I don’t.” I shrug. “I don’t really need one.”
I can’t give her my number. It would connect her to me, and I can’t let that happen. I’m too involved with these people already. God, what the fuck are you doing, Quentin? I should move out tonight after…
…After I watch the kids, and pick her up.
Fuck.
She shrugs. “Okay, if you say so.” But she doesn’t sound very convinced.
Rose couldn’t be safer in this town, in this place, but I find myself watching her walk inside and waiting until I spot her in the big windows over the stairwell before I drive off, back to the house. It takes about fifteen minutes to get back, and I have to knock on the door. Karen lets me in.
“What are we going to eat?”
I sigh. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
Over the next ten minutes I end up going through all the cupboards, frowning. It’s all canned shit and boxed shit and just general shit. She doesn’t even have real cheese, just that yellow goop.
I frown, walk into the living room, and announce, “We’re going shopping.”
Karen looks up. “Uh, what?”
“Don’t argue with me. Get in the car. You too, squirt.” I point at Kelly.
She scowls at me. “My name is Kelly.”
“Your name is whatever I say it is. Let’s go. You have keys?”
Karen produces a house key, which she wears on a lanyard around her neck. After she locks the door they pile in the front seat of my car, with Kelly swinging her feet in the middle. I give them a look and the slip on their seat belts.
I throw her in gear and back out.
“Is this thing safe?” Kelly chirps.
I can’t help it. I tromp on the gas and I’m going thirty-five by the time we hit the end of the street, and both girls are screaming. The brakes chirp at the stop sign, and I wheel the Impala around the corner hard, only slowing when I reach the front gate.
The guard gives me a bored look and waves us past. Do these people pay him a salary or something?
It’s a short drive into town, to the grocery store. I glance at my watch; we have at least two and a half hours before it’s time to go pick up Rose. I need something I can keep hot until she gets home; she didn’t eat a real meal after she got off work. She must be starving.
Of course I kept her busy, so that’s sort of my fault. Sort of.
Once I park, the girls pile out of the car.
“Stay with me,” I snap.
“We’re not like six years old.” Karen rolls her eyes.
I give her a stern look. “Okay, we’re not doofing around here. I know how women shop. We’re not going to be standing around contemplating the mayonnaise. Follow orders, got it?”
They both nod, though Karen looks a little insulted.
“Squirt, push the cart.”
Kelly scowls at me but yanks a cart out of the line. I don’t care what she says, I can tell she gets a kick out of pushing it. Little kids are usually satisfied with stupid shit like that.
We go aisle by aisle. I tell Karen what to get while picking out a few things myself.
“I want chicken nuggets,” Kelly declares, running for the frozen aisle.
I drag her back by the collar. “You want chicken nuggets, we’ll have chicken nuggets. This way.”
Our last stop is the meat and produce, then the dairy. I have the kids hold a spot in line while I grab a few things—Rose’s kitchen is woefully lacking in tools. She didn’t even have any meat thermometer or anything like that. I join the kids in line and show them how to stack everything on the belt to make it faster for the cashier to check us out.
In and out of the store in forty-five minutes. I let them split a Snickers in congratulations.
“I’m thirsty,” Kelly whines, bits of chocolate stuck around her mouth.
“We’ll be home in a second,” I say.
I flinch a little. It rolls out of my mouth before I even think about it.
Calm down, Quent. It’s been what, two days? I’m not going to be their dad. I haven’t even finished inside their mom yet.
That was a little weird, Quent. Moving on.