home after all.
I take out some lasagna sheets, fresh tomatoes and basil, and a pack of prime minced meat.
“What are you doing?” Logan asks, watching me set everything up.
“Dinner,” I reply.
It’s probably a futile endeavor, since most of us won’t eat anything, but I need to keep myself occupied. By memory, I do everything Val’s dad did when he made his famous lasagna. I’m assaulted with memories of all the times he used to joke with me, saying that when I became a big football star, not to become one of those rich douches who didn’t even know how to boil an egg.
Even with all the memories I will never relive, it gives me some sort of comfort cooking. It reminds me of everything that man taught me. Before he came along, I didn’t know what it felt to be a part of a family. Sure, I had my brothers, Logan and Carter, but it isn’t the same thing. A child should feel a parent’s love. I never have. Until Val’s dad came along.
It takes me about an hour or so until it’s done. Carter and Logan sit at the kitchen table, talking in hushed tones, probably about me. I ignore them and make a simple lettuce and tomato salad, keeping a vigilant eye on my garlic bread so it doesn’t burn. Once the lasagna is cool enough, I cut up a slice and put it on a plate, placing it on a wooden tray I made in my freshman year in woodshop. I try not to remember I had made it with Mr. E in mind. I add a small salad, two slices of garlic bread, and a water bottle from the fridge to it, before going upstairs.
“I’m going to take this up to Val,” I tell them, Logan’s concerned eyes instantly softening.
“I’ll save you some, too,” he says, but we both know my appetite has been shot to shit. I love the fucker anyway for trying.
When I get to Valentina’s room, her shades are slightly closed, giving the room a somber feel to it.
“I brought you something to eat,” I mumble, and sit at the edge of her bed, placing the tray on her bedside table.
“I’m not hungry,” she utters.
“It’s your dad’s recipe. I followed it as best as I could.”
Her weary eyes look at me, the unshed tears sparkling the gold in them.
“Will you eat with me?” she chokes out, strangling my heart further.
I nod, even though food is the last thing on my mind, but if it will get Val to eat something, then I’ll have to make the effort. She takes a small bite as one tear falls to her plate, and a trace of a smile begins to surface on her face.
“It tastes like his.”
My own meek grin tugs on the corner of my lips.
“I doubt that.”
“Try it,” she commands, taking a forkful and bringing it up to my mouth.
I close my lips over the fork, and wouldn’t you know it, but it does taste similar to his. I open my eyes and see her golden eyes water further.
Mine start to prick at their corners as she takes another bite, only to go back to the plate and offer me another forkful. I take it. Full wet tears trail down her face as she eats, and I swipe them away with my thumb, making sure not to interrupt her meal. Her trembling fingers do the same to the tears I’m shedding as she feeds me yet another forkful. This goes on for a few minutes, until there is nothing left on the plate.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I nod, getting up from the bed, but she holds onto my wrist when I try to pick up the tray.
“Don’t go,” she hushes.
She pulls the duvet down and scoots over on the bed, just enough for me to get in. Silently, I take off my shoes and do as she asks. Valentina places her head on my chest, and I pull her closer to me.
“I miss him,” she whispers.
“Me too.”
She hugs me tighter, her tears tattooing their pain onto my skin.
“I don’t know how to go on. Not without him.”
My throat tightens as I cry soundlessly, her words mimicking my own. She raises her chin on my chest, watching me as I run my fingers through her hair
“We’ll be okay. Won’t we?” she asks, unsure.
“I hope so.”
After a long silent pause, she lays back down beside me, her head back on my chest, listening to the organ that