Burnout - Coralee June Page 0,11

In my short time here, I got the impression that where Lance was lighthearted and hopeful, Decker saw right through the haze. Right through me. I wasn’t sure I could handle navigating Lance’s hopes with Decker’s reality.

“Now tell the truth,” he whispered, so low that I almost didn’t hear. I kept my eyes trained ahead, too nervous to turn around and reveal the tears threatening to spill over.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied hoarsely. I figured it was easier to lie. I didn’t know this man, didn’t owe him anything.

“You tell him the sugar-coated fluff, but give me your honesty. You’ll feel better if you do. His part of the deal will keep a roof over your head, but if you tell me the truth, then I won’t bug you for the rest of the night.”

“You don’t even know me,” I replied, though I contemplated his offer. I wanted to avoid the high school chat with Lance and Decker until I felt more settled. Our temporary truce might last for the day, but I didn’t know what would happen next. And despite all this, the truth was still bubbling within me like molten lava, threatening to spill over and destroy everything in its path. “Just for the night?” I asked, giving in with a grimace.

“For the next twenty-four hours,” he negotiated, and his hot air feathered down my neck as he spoke. I wasn’t sure why he cared so much or why I felt the need to give in to this complete stranger.

“Fine,” I began with a slow and steady exhale. “She liked pancakes because they were cheap and easy to make. That week, when we ate nothing but pancakes? It wasn’t because she loved breakfast food and syrup. It was because we had fourteen dollars in the bank and she needed a new dress for her date with a local hotshot lawyer. If I never eat another pancake in my life, it’ll be too soon,” I admitted.

Decker leaned closer; I could feel his stubble on my cheek. A shiver traveled up my spine, and I felt my bones grow weak. My reaction to him confused me. “Good girl,” he whispered before snapping back and walking out of the room. I watched Decker’s back as he walked, my mouth gaping open at the complete twist in our dynamic. One second he was pulling at my truth like it was a rotten tooth, the next he was strolling out of my new bedroom as if nothing had happened.

But my mind was still lingering on his whispered praise. “Good girl,” he’d said.

For some fucked up reason, I wanted to hear him say it again.

3

Blakely

The next few days all started the same. I woke up in a plush bed, wondering where the hell I was and why I felt…safe. It always took a few moments to remember that I moved to Memphis. Every morning, I was greeted with the smell of butter, sugar, and syrup. I hated it. I hated that I couldn’t tell him how much I loathed pancakes. I hated that we had such vastly different childhoods that he didn’t share the same experience as I did.

But despite these differences, there were some similarities too. Lance liked to hum while he cooked, just like Mama. He drowned his pancakes in syrup like her too. He also clutched his napkin in his fist as he ate just like her.

It was weird to have a routine of sorts. Ever since Mama died, my life had been a sequence of upheavals. It was nice to wake up and know what to expect.

Lance cooking for me was a thoughtful gesture. I half expected him to give up by day three, but he was persistent. I knew that he was clinging to what little information I shared, and somehow, pancakes had become our metaphorical olive branch as we learned about one another. Even though I hated the flapjacks and everything they represented, I found myself choking them down while giving him little pieces of Mama’s story. There was something about Lance that made me want to make him smile, and despite my better judgment, I was starting to trust that his actions and words were genuine.

He also stayed true to his word on asking for details about Mama. He’d hand me a breakfast plate and sit there expectantly, waiting like an eager child for candy. I liked that there was some trade-off for our living situation. I would have felt awful to stay