“Help you with what?”
“Grief, I think. Go sit down.” I know he’s dismissing the conversation to avoid talking about it. I want him to tell me who he’s grieving and how long it’s been for him. I want to dig deep into him, as he plans to do to me. I wonder if he feels the endless agony of loss that I do and if it tears his heart out every time he thinks of her.
I want to know if he views the future as an empty pit of darkness like I do now.
Vandal
She’s staring off into space and doesn’t even look at me when I sit down at the table. From the expression in her eyes I can tell she’s thinking about him. Not me. She’s slipped away from me again, even without walking off.
I cut the chicken on her plate into small pieces. “Your eyes should always be on me when I enter the room,” I tell her. “And I should be the only man you think about.”
She turns her head suddenly, as if she just realized I was there. “Huh?”
“I’m telling you what I expect and need.”
She nods absently and looks down at her plate. “Thank you for making dinner.”
“Don’t thank me until you try it.”
She smiles a little and takes a bite. I like watching her mouth as she chews and swallows. There are so many things I want to do with her mouth.
“This is delicious.” She takes another bite. “I haven’t eaten real food in so long.”
“What have you been eating?”
She shrugs her tiny shoulders. “Coffee and crackers. Sometimes a milkshake.”
I have to laugh at her answer. “Coffee, crackers and milkshakes?” I repeat. “That’s the most bizarre combo of food I’ve ever heard.”
“I lost my lust for food when Nick died.”
Christ. The accident I caused forced this girl into starving herself. Just great.
“What do you usually like to eat?” I ask.
“Hmmm … vanilla lattes, chocolate mousse, salad, homemade chicken noodle soup, cookies, pumpkin ice cream—”
“Whoa, what? Did you say pumpkin ice cream?” I almost choke on my food.