by Alex Grayson
Gigi leaves the boy’s side and trots over to me. I pat her head when she puts her front paws on my lower stomach.
“Hey, girl. You havin’ fun?” Her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth is my answer. She jumps down, and instead of going back to the boy, she takes off for the kitchen and the doggy door separating her from her pups.
I catch sight of Gwen standing at the bar looking at me. Her eyes drop when she notices I’ve caught her staring. I turn on my heel and walk down the short hallway, anxious to get away for a few minutes.
I take a hot shower and push away the weird feeling of having strangers in my house.
Twenty minutes later, I emerge from my bedroom dressed in jeans, a green thermal shirt, and bare feet. The TV is on when I walk out into the living room. The boy is sitting on the floor leaning against the couch, watching a bunch of meerkats run around on the screen, while the girl has her head bent over a book she’s writing in.
A pang hits me square in the chest at the sight. Once upon a time I wanted this scene to be my reality, and while this is reality, it’s not my reality. It’s fake, it’s someone else’s. It’s the woman’s who’s in the kitchen cooking something on my stove.
Seeing the fire has dwindled down, I walk over, crouch, and throw a couple small logs into the fireplace. Standing, I walk into the kitchen. Gwen is scooping the potato soup into bowls. When she hears my approach, she turns with a smile on her face.
“What’s that smell?” I ask.
She grabs one of the bowls and hands it to me. “Sugar cookies.”
I nod and dip my spoon into the soup, bringing a chunk of potato to my mouth. She watches me eat for a moment before grabbing the other bowls and setting them on the bar.
“This is good,” I mumble around a mouthful.
“Thank you.” She fidgets for a minute. “I feel strange being in your kitchen. Like I’m imposing in someone’s space. I don’t feel right looking through your cabinets with you standing there.” She laughs. “So, where are your glasses?”
Carrying my bowl with me, I walk over to the cabinet by the fridge and open it, showing her the shelf of glasses and cups. She smiles gratefully and grabs two glasses and two plastic cups. She sets them on the counter, then opens the fridge and takes out a jug of juice.
“Juice?” I nod.
“What are your kids’ names?”
Handing me a glass, she takes the cups over to the bar and sets them down beside the bowls.
“Daniel and Kelsey.”
She calls the kids, and the boy, Daniel, rushes and takes his seat, wasting no time in digging in to his food. Kelsey comes at a more sedate pace. I watch with interest as she sets the book down on the bar—I can now see it’s a crossword puzzle book—sits on the stool, and starts eating. Her eyes don’t show any emotion at all as she stares down at her food, just disinterest. This girl is holding something deep inside her, it’s there in her eyes. I just don’t know what it is. I lean back against the counter across from them as Gwen picks up her own bowl and starts eating.
Minutes later, the stove’s timer goes off and she sets her bowl down to take a tray of cookies out of the oven. The smell is stronger once they’re sitting on the stove, and although I’m currently eating, my stomach still rumbles. I haven’t had homemade cookies in years, and these look and smell really fucking good.
“Hey, mister,” Daniel says, and I turn my head to regard him. “What’s your dog’s name?”
“Gigi.”
“What kind of dog is she?”
I lay my empty bowl in the sink, then turn back around.
“She’s a Lab mix.”
“What does a Lab mix mean?” He scoops up some soup and puts the spoon to his mouth.
“It means part of her breed is Labrador.”
“What other part is she?”
This kid is just full of questions. I look over at Gwen, who’s taking the cookies off the cookie sheet and setting them on a plate. There’s a small smile playing on her lips as she keeps her head bent. I turn back to Daniel.
“I don’t know what other part she is. She was a stray that showed up here a couple of years ago.”
“Well, then how do you know she’s part Labrador then?”
A snicker sounds behind me.
“Because she has the same features as a Lab does.”
“Oh.” He looks thoughtful for a minute, then says, “I really like her,” before digging back into his food.
Gwen comes to stand beside me and sets down a saucer with cookies on it.
“You both finish up and then you can have some cookies,” she says, then offers me one.
She looks at Kelsey, who still looks indifferent as she eats her food. A normal kid would perk up at the mention of cookies, but not this girl. She gave no indication she even heard her mother.
“Kelsey,” Gwen calls. The girl looks up, nixing my thought that maybe she’s deaf. “Is your dinner okay?”
Kelsey nods, then drops her head back down to her food. I frown, more than a little curious about what’s wrong with her. Normally a person would think she was being bratty or ornery, but the total lack of emotion on the girl’s face says it’s a lot more than that.
I eat two cookies, which taste like sugar heaven, then walk into the living room. I grab the remote off the couch, take a seat, and am just getting ready to channel surf until I find something to watch, when a little body settles on the couch beside me. I look down at Daniel, to see him looking at the scars on my arm.
“Why does your arm and face look like that?”
When he looks up at me, I only see innocent curiosity. This kid won’t run around town fueling gossip and telling everyone my business. Even though everyone in town knows what happened, they still feel the need to run their mouths and speculate about shit they just don’t understand. Daniel only wants to know because he’s a kid and kids are curious, especially about things that aren’t normal. My scars are definitely not normal.
“They’re burn scars.”
His eyes widen, and I wonder if maybe this could be too horrifying for a kid his age, then he asks, “What happened?”
A sharp pain hits my chest, and I turn my head away from him, not wanting him to see the pain I’m sure reflects in my eyes. It takes me a minute to control my reaction.
“I was in a wreck and the car caught fire.” My answer still comes out gruff.
There’s obviously more than that to the story, but that’s not something he needs to hear. The horror of the details is too much for even adults, let alone a young child. Not to mention, I’m not sure I could give them anyway, not without breaking down. Even the thought of what happened nearly cripples me.
He looks down at the scars again. “Do they still hurt?”
“Yes and no,” I answer honestly, then elaborate when he looks at me with confusion. “They don’t actually hurt, but what I lost when I got these scars hurts me in here.” I point to my chest.
He frowns as he takes in my answer. It’s hard to explain such a thing to someone his age, but after a minute, I see recognition dawn in his eyes. This kid is smart.
“My daddy died,” he says, so quietly I barely hear him.
He keeps his head bent and plays with the edge of his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I say gruffly, because I don’t know what else to say to him. I feel sorry that he lost a parent at such a young age.
“Can I….” He stops and looks up at me again. The hurt is still evident in his eyes, but it’s not as strong. He’s obviously had time to grieve, but that pain will never fully go away. Biting his lip, he starts again. “Can I touch them?” He points to my arm.
Now this question takes me by surprise. Asking about my scars is one thing, but wanting to see what they feel like is different. It’s not that it bothers me really, it’s just no one has ever touched them before. Not even my mom. Not because she’s repulsed by them, but because it’s just something you don’t do.
I look back toward the
kitchen and see Gwen washing the dishes. I know I should offer to wash them since she made dinner and cookies, but oddly enough, I’m enjoying sitting here talking to Daniel, something I never thought I would like doing.
He waits patiently for me to answer, his eyes lacking any censor or morbid nosiness. Pulling in a deep breath, I lift my arm out in front of me. The distorted skin, even to my own eyes, looks revolting. I barely hide my flinch when Daniel puts one fingertip against the skin on my forearm and runs it down to my wrist. I don’t have much feeling left on the surface, so the flinch was more of a psychological reaction. He looks at them with fascination, and I watch him with the same feeling coursing through me, because there’s no disgust coming from him whatsoever.
I lift my head when Kelsey comes to stand by the couch. Her eyes are on my arm, and I drop it to my lap. Once again, her eyes show nothing as she takes a seat and opens her crossword puzzle book.
I’m just about to get up when Gigi comes around the couch, a small fur ball hanging from her mouth. She stops in front of Daniel and gently lays the pup on the floor.
“A puppy!” he squeals, sliding from the couch onto his knees on the floor. Gigi nudges the puppy with her nose and Daniel leans way over until his nose is almost touching the floor and pets the pup on the head.
Obviously Gigi feels comfortable enough to bring her babies around Daniel. His smile is miles long as he plays with the pup. Gigi gets up and ambles off, only to return a minute later with another puppy.
“How many does she have?” Daniel asks after Gigi leaves for the fifth time.
“Seven.”
“Wow!”
“How old are they?” a feminine voice asks.
I look up and see Gwen standing behind the couch watching her son play with the pups, a smile curving her lips.
“Four weeks,” I answer.
My eyes land on Kelsey. She still has her head bent to her book, but the hand holding the pencil isn’t moving, and I see her eyes flicker to the floor every few seconds. It’s clear she’s interested in the puppies, and I’m confused as to why she doesn’t just go visit them with her brother.
“You can go play with them,” I tell her quietly.
She lifts her head, and a spark of excitement lights her face before she quickly wipes it away. Before she drops her head back down, something flashes in her eyes, and the force of the emotion hits me square in the chest. It’s a look I’ve seen reflected back at me for the past four years.
I get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen. I feel Gwen’s eyes on me and hear her footsteps following me. I go to the cabinet holding the glasses, grab one out, and fill it with water. I gulp down the cool liquid, then take in several deep breaths, feeling like I can’t draw in enough air.
The glass clatters in the sink when I drop it. I turn around to face Gwen, my chest heaving, and see her watching me with concern. I’m sure my reaction is a bit confusing for her. She has no idea that the pain I witnessed in Kelsey’s eyes reminds me so much of my own.
I have no right to ask, it’s none of my business, and it’s an invasion of privacy. I’ve known this woman barely a day, and I’ve been less than friendly most of that time. But after seeing what I did in that girl’s eyes, it’s something I need to know. No kid should feel even half of what I feel on a daily basis.
I look up and meet Gwen’s worried gaze. She knows what I’m going to ask. She knows I saw the absolute pain in her daughter’s eyes.
“What happened to her?” I clear my throat when my question comes out hoarse.
She looks over her shoulder toward the living room for a minute before bringing her gaze back to me. Pain flashes across her face. She walks further into the kitchen and stops when she’s beside me. Her back goes against the counter and she wraps her arms around her stomach like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“She found her father, my husband, Will, dead in her bedroom a little over two years ago. She was six.” I mutter a curse and my heart sinks to my fucking toes. She talks over me. “We didn’t know it, but he had a blocked artery. She was crying for her bear and while he was in her room grabbing it, he had a heart attack. She hasn’t spoken since, except at the funeral, and a year ago when she asked me if I was going to die when I had the flu.” She stops and swallows thickly. “And to whisper in the dark at night, praying to God to bring her daddy back.” Her voice breaks at the end.
I don’t know what to say. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief that I don’t know how to deal with someone else’s. I hate the thought of these three going through something like that. It makes my chest ache.
I don’t know what I planned to do or say when I turn to face her, but I don’t get the chance before she gives me a sad smile and says, “She has selective mutism caused by a traumatic event. The doctors say she could one day all of a sudden talk, but there’s a chance she may never want to again.”
Her words hurt something deep inside me. My instincts tell me to reach out and comfort her, but I hold back, not really sure if I should. Her head’s down, and she takes deep breaths as she tries to get a hold of her emotions. When she lifts her head, her eyes are watery, but I can tell she’s forcefully pushing the tears back.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t burden yo—”
“Don’t,” I say a bit more harshly than intended. Her eyes widen. “Don’t apologize for your pain. Never be sorry for something like that.”
She stares at me for a full minute before she nods. “Thank you.”
I turn away from her, not wanting her gratitude for something so significant. I look out the window and am surprised to see the sun already setting. I look over when Gwen moves away from me.
“Wait,” I call, and she turns back. “I’m sorry for your loss. And Kelsey....” I pause and she waits. “She’ll be okay.”
I don’t know why I feel compelled to tell her that, but I do. It’s clear Gwen still suffers from the loss of her husband, but the pain of losing part of a child is so much more.
“I know,” she says quietly before turning and leaving.
I stand at the kitchen sink for several more minutes, looking out into the darkness, pushing back my own painful memories. I release a breath, push away from the sink, and walk back out into the living room. Daniel, who’s still on the floor, has his head down beside one of the puppies, his eyes barely staying open. Kelsey still has her head stuck in the puzzle book. She must have carried it with her from their truck. It looks well-worn, with the pages curled, indicating she uses it a lot.
I look over at Gwen sitting beside her. “You three can have my bed.”
My suggestion surprises her and she gets up from the couch.
“Alexander, we can’t take your bed.”
Hearing her say my name does something to me. That’s the third time she’s said it. It still sounds foreign coming from someone other than my family, but it’s nice.
“Yes, you can. There’s three of you. You can’t all fit on the couch.”
“The kids can have the couch. If you have extra blankets, I can sleep on the floor.”
I give her a look that says she’s stupid if she thinks I’m going to let her sleep on the hard floor. I may be out of practice dealing with people, but I’m not so far gone that I’ll allow something like that.
“That’s not happening, Gwen.”
It’s not until she looks at me strangely that I realize that’s the first time I’ve said her name out loud. I wonder if she got the same weird feeling I get when she says my name.
She looks down at the couch, then back at me. “But you won’t fit on the couch. Your feet will hang off the edge.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve slept on worse, and it’s only for a few days.”
She bites her lip as she thinks it over. I let her believe she has a choice when she really doesn’t. Luckily, she relents and nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
I give a short nod, then walk around the couch and bend down to a now sleeping
Daniel.
“I can—”
My stern look has her shutting her mouth. I scoop the little boy in my arms and carry him into my bedroom. Gwen follows me and pulls back the cover, and I set him down. He curls on his side. I grab some clothes for tomorrow as she pulls the covers over him. Stopping in the hallway, I pull out a pillow and a couple blankets from the small linen closet and go back out to the living room. Gwen is already rounding up Kelsey.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “You have no idea how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for us today. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I tell her, and throw the pillow and blankets on the couch.
I turn back and she’s just standing there. She shuffles on her feet for a minute before saying, “I keep an emergency bag of stuff in the back of my truck. I should have grabbed it before we left, but didn’t think about it. Could we grab it tomorrow if we’re still not able to leave?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks,” she says, smiling. “Good night.”
That same feeling from earlier hits me. “Good night, Gwen.” I look to the girl. “Good night, Kelsey,” I say softly to the retreating girl’s back. She’s doesn’t turn, but she does stop walking and her spine stiffens.
We both watch as Kelsey stands there for a moment, then moves forward again. Gwen shoots me a sad smile before following her daughter. I watch until the light in the bedroom goes off.
I round up the pups and load them back into the utility room, Gigi following behind me. After, I release a tired sigh and settle down on the couch with my feet hanging off the end. I’m not sure why, but I feel a connection with Kelsey. I know how deep her pain runs. I know exactly what she’s going through. I know the feeling of wanting to block people out, to push people away. The pain that grips you so tight it feels like you’re suffocating. That no matter what you do, things will never be good again. And you’ll do almost anything to bring back the person you lost.
I close my eyes and an image of blond hair flashes in my mind. Laughter sounds in my ears, so loud I almost open my eyes to look for the source because it sounds so real. I shove the image and sound away, not wanting it to pull me under.
