“Do you need help with anything?” I offered.
There were freshly washed vegetables sitting in the sink, and he had two pans on the stove boiling with food, not to mention the oven was preheating for something. I started feeling guilty about him making this massive feast on my behalf, and I wasn’t even going to eat it. Well, later on tonight, I’d dig into the cold leftovers and watch cartoons, but that wasn’t the same as sitting down to his meticulously crafted meal.
“You can slice some of the vegetables if you want,” Milo glanced back at me.
“What are they for?” I pulled out the cutting board and a knife, setting them on the counter next to where Jack was leaning. Grabbing a tomato and green pepper from the sink, I repeated the question to Milo, who’d become distracted by seasoning a red sauce bubbling in a frying pan. “What am I cutting the vegetables for?”
“The salad.” He tasted the sauce, which must’ve satisfied him, because he flipped off the stove, and pulled out a cake pan. I think he was making some kind of special lasagna with all types of homemade everything, but I couldn’t be sure because when he explained things to me, he always used culinary terms that I didn’t understand. “I made a special vinaigrette.”
“Everything smells fantastic,” Jack complimented him. Milo had his back to us, but I could see his cheeks reddening a little as he laid out noodles in the pan. Maybe Milo wasn’t completely immune to Jack’s allure either.
“I have bad news though.” I lowered my voice, afraid my mother might hear me. She had yet to emerge from her bedroom, but I decided that was a good thing. Carefully slicing a tomato, I saw Milo’s shoulders tense up and he looked hesitatingly at me. “We’re not actually gonna eat here.” His face fell, but he quickly looked away, trying to hide it.
“It’s my fault really,” Jack said apologetically. As he talked, I could tell his voice was working its magic on Milo, and he relaxed a little. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to eat here, so I went ahead and ate at home. And then I made plans for us in a little bit. I’m really sorry, though. I can tell I’m missing a fantastic meal.”
“It’s fine,” Milo said, and he sounded almost like he meant it. He had finished putting his ingredients together in the pan, so he put it in the oven.
He’d already set the table, so he went over to start clearing the extra two places for Jack and me.
“Milo-” I started to turn and apologize to him further. He had this way of looking like a little boy when he was sad, and it just broke my heart.
Unfortunately, I decided to try and keep cutting the green pepper as I turned, and that wasn’t the smartest move ever. The knife sliced sharply into the index finger of my left hand, and I yelped painfully. “Damn it!”
“What?” Milo instantly stopped what he was doing and rushed over to me.
He’d spent enough time with me in the kitchen to know that I usually ended with cuts or burns after doing even the simplest tasks. “What’d you cut?”
“I just got my finger,” I winced, squeezing my fingers around it to stop the bleeding. Milo, being the smart one, grabbed a washcloth to put on it.
“Maybe you should run that under water,” Jack interjected, his voice sounding oddly stiff. Milo turned on the water, yanking my hand under it, but I looked over at Jack. He had taken a few steps away from me, and he’d gone pale. I guess the sight of blood didn’t agree with him.
“It’s not that bad.” Milo examined my finger under the water, but I kept my eyes fixed on Jack. He had looked away from me and taken another step back. The sight of the blood, even the small amount that it was, had really effected him, so I hurried to clean it up. “I’ll get you a Band-Aid.”
Milo darted off to the bathroom to retrieve a Boba Fett Band-Aid from the medicine cabinet. I left my finger running under the water, even though I think it had stopped bleeding. With my other hand, I used the washcloth to wipe off the cutting bored, pushing bloodied slices of green pepper into the sink and down the drain.
“What’s going on?” Mom always had the best timing and chose just then to come out of the bedroom. Her hair was its usually frizzy mess, but she’d managed to put on worn out jeans and an over sized sweatshirt with paint splattered all over it.
“I just cut my finger,” I explained, holding up my injured appendage. Milo came out of the bathroom and jogged over to me. As if I were a complete invalid, he started drying my finger with a paper towel before putting on the Band-Aid.
“Milo, you know better than to let her help you in the kitchen,” Mom scolded. She went over to the coffee table to grab an ash tray, then lit a cigarette as she walked back into the kitchen. Her eyes scanned over Jack quickly, but she didn’t say anything to him. Instead, she just set the ashtray on the kitchen table and sat down.
“Sorry,” Jack mumbled once my finger was sufficiently bandaged.
Whatever had gotten to him seemed to be dissipating and the color in his cheeks returned.
“I’m the one that cut my finger. There’s no reason for you to be sorry.” I looked over at him, and he smiled at me, but it wasn’t his usual cheerful grin. It looked a little forced, but he was determined to shake it off and move on.
“We don’t really need a salad anyway,” Milo decided. He pushed past me, collecting the vegetables that I had cut and tossing them in the garbage. They all hadn’t been tainted with my blood, but there were enough of them where it didn’t seem worth it. “The vinaigrette will hold for another day.”
“So…” Mom blew out a smoke ring and gazed intently at Jack. Her features still had that same rigid, worn look they always did, but there was something extra in her voice. “You must be Jack.”
When she accented his name, that’s when I realized what it was. She wasn’t as overt as Jane had been, but the look in her eyes and the tone to her voice… it was definitely seductive. Not that I really should’ve been surprised that she’d react to him the same way everyone else seemed to, particularly women, but I couldn’t help but feel my stomach twist nauseously.
“And you must be Alice’s mom,” Jack grinned at her, authentically this time. He had leaned back against the counter again and crossed one foot over his ankle, bouncing the toe of his blue Converse on the tile.
“Anna.” This time, my mother actually did a “casual” lick of her lips when she looked at him. I rolled my eyes, then looked to Milo to see if he noticed her being so ridiculous, but he was no help. He just stood in the middle of the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Jack. I realized then that I could continue cursing Jack’s unusual ability to be attractive to everyone, or I could use it to my advantage. If Mom liked Jack, then she wouldn’t object to him.
“Anna.” Jack repeated, and my mother looked down, flicking her cigarette in the ashtray.
“So tell me about yourself.” Her eyes went back up to him, and they had never looked so young before.
In actuality, my mother was only thirty-four, but she usually looked much older than that. But when she looked at Jack, there was this girliness underneath that came through. Suddenly, I could see how beautiful and radiant she must’ve been when she was young, before she had me. Feeling an odd protective jealousy, I hoped that Jack didn’t notice it.
“What do you want to know?” Jack tilted his head at her.
“Everything.” She was being coy, and that should’ve (and actually did) creep me out a bit, but her answer excited me. Given the situation, she would be able to ask him questions, and he would answer. Not vague little sidesteps like he did with me, but real, legitimate answers. Because she was my mom, and that’s what people did when they were interrogated by parents.
“Well, that’s an awful lot to tell. Where would you like me to start?”
“What do you with yourself?” Her eyes had gone sultry, and I had to fight the urge to vomit or take Jack’s hand or something. Milo pulled up a chair next to Mom, but he didn’t look even slightly disturbed by her behavior. He too had become too enamored by Jack and just listened for his answer.
“Not a lot really,” Jack admitted.
“You don’t work?” Mom pressed, and this fact that should’ve sent her into a glowering tirade of disapproval, just seemed to make complete sense to her.
Of course Jack didn’t work. Why would he, when he was just that fabulous?
“Nope.” He shrugged, and this time I felt irritated that he didn’t have to work and didn’t think anything of it. Mom should’ve felt the same way, but she didn’t. “I mean, I’ve done a lot of odd jobs over the years. Like I tried some bartending for awhile and once I was tour guide for Niagara caves out in Harmony for awhile, but that was too far away so I quit that. I don’t know.
Nothing’s just really stuck, I guess.”
