“Your dad likes spicy food?”
“Ordinarily, no. But when it comes to curries, the hotter the better.”
I look around his apartment, and see his kitchen. “We’re having vindaloo I take it?”
“First, the grand tour. Come.” He leads me down the hallway. “My bedroom.” He points to the right, where I look in and see a room that’s neat and tidy. A huge four poster bed stands against the back wall. “There’s a bathroom in there.” He points to a door in his bedroom. “Walk in closet.” Points to the door next to it. “This is the second bedroom.” He pushes the door open, and I find almost a mirror image, but with only one door.”
“Bathroom or closet?”
“Another bathroom. This one has a built-in closet.”
“Wow.”
“And living room. Dining room, and kitchen.” We’re back to the front door. It’s not really large, but it’s certainly comfortable. The dining room has a spacious six-person table, with plenty of room to move around it. Nothing’s cramped, or cluttered.
His apartment is impeccably clean. Everything is in its place, there’s nothing out of line. “Are you a neat freak?”
“No, I just like everything organized. Then I know where everything is.”
“Now this is scary.” I gesture around his apartment. He tilts his head to the side, questioning my statement. “Are you a serial killer? If you are, I have it on very good authority, I wouldn’t make a very good victim.”
“If I was a serial killer, then I wouldn’t say I was, obviously, I’d deny it. And I think you’d make an excellent victim.”
“No way.” I wag my finger in front of his face. “Wrong girl to pick to be a victim. I’m a survivor. I’d find a way to turn the tables, so then I’d be the serial killer, and you’d be the victim.”
“But I could overpower you.”
“I see,” I say as I head into the kitchen to taste whatever he’s cooking. “What you’re saying, is because you’re so big, you’d have the brawn.”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“But I have the brains.” I tap my head. “You see, in just the moments I’ve been in your apartment, I’ve secreted several different weapons around it. And you had no idea, I’m actually well prepared for any of your attacks. Not to mention, I’ve slipped a sleeping tablet into your glass over there.”
“Obviously, I’m aware of these things now, because you’ve told me.” He chuckles. “So I can adjust and attack you without your knowledge.”
“I don’t see this being successful for you, because now I know you’re going to change your tactics.”
He walks into the kitchen, smiling. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure. What are you offering?”
“What would you like? Wine?” Dylan lifts the lid of the saucepan, and stirs dinner.
I stand leaning against the counter of the kitchen. I remain silent. He places the lid back on the saucepan and looks over at me. “What?”
“Wine? I’m not twenty-one.”
“Shit, sorry. I forgot.” He walks over to his fridge, and opens it. It too is immaculately clean and organized. “I have a wide choice of water or juice. I can go to the store to get soda if you like.”
“Water is my go-to drink, I’m fine with that.”
“I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t consider your age.”
“Good. I’m glad my age didn’t impact you. It means you’re okay with the difference now.”
“The fact you don’t behave like any eighteen-year-old I know plays a major part.” He lifts the lid again, stirs, and tastes it. “Yum.”
“Wait, how many eighteen-year-olds do you know?” I question.
“No! I don’t know any except you, and your sister. Speaking of which, how’s she been?”
My shoulders slump, and I look down to the floor. “She’s still not talking to me. She’s coming home for dinner, but during the day she’s at Preston’s. I haven’t spoken with her for days.”
“Give her time. She might need to, I don’t know, cool down a bit.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling, Dylan. I think Preston is filling her head with bullshit. She’s not even talking to Mom and Dad. She’s so quiet. I know something’s wrong.”
“What do you want to do about it? Can I help?”
I drag out a chair from under the dining room table, and sit. Dylan brings me a glass of water. “I don’t know what to do. I suppose, I’ll have to wait until she’s ready to talk to me. But I don’t want to wait too long, and end up losing her to him forever.”
“It’s a tricky situation. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so I can’t comment from experience. Well, I do, Mom’s new family. But they want nothing to do with me, and I want nothing to do with them. I don’t really consider them family. In all honesty, I don’t even know for sure if I have just two half-brothers now, or more.” I remember him telling me about his maybe half-siblings.
“Do you hear from your mom?”
“Sometimes she’ll send me a Christmas card, and a few times she’s sent me a birthday card, but usually in the wrong month.”
Ouch, I wince. “How can she forget when your birthday is? She gave birth to you.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I gave up blaming myself for her lack of interest in me or my life.”
“Is there a reason? Has she ever tried to explain it to you?”
“You know, I used to beat myself up over her leaving. If I was smarter, if I was a better kid, if I listened to what she said, but then, after a lot of therapy, I discovered something.”
“Yeah, what?”
“It really had nothing to do with me. All of her choices are her choices and not mine. I’m not going to waste another moment crying over what could’ve been, when I have the best Dad in the world.”
“See, now we have a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid, I have the best Dad in the world.”
“Them’s fighting words, lady.” He lifts the lid to a different saucepan, and tastes whatever’s in it. “Hmm, yum. Yeah, dinner is ready.”
“Great, what can I do to help?”
“Nothing, but make yourself at home.” He brings over two deep bowls, and cutlery. Then starts bringing the food over. “I know it looks like I’ve made a lot, but I make up containers for my Dad too. And I take some to work. So really, it’s not that much. Speaking of which, you’ve probably noticed Dad’s not here. He’s not feeling great, so he decided to stay at home to rest.”
He brings over a large pot, a bowl of rice, and something that resembles bread, but it’s flat. “Wow. Did you seriously make all of this?”
“Except the naan bread, I bought that. But yes, I made the curry from scratch. And obviously, I cooked the rice.”
“The rice is yellow.”
“It’s how I made it. Mustard seeds, turmeric, cardamom pods and a few other things.”
I nod my head, impressed with his skills. “You sure you didn’t buy it?” I tease.
“You know, I am a grown-ass man. I should hope I know how to cook. I actually took some cooking lessons when I was in high school. Food is important to me and to Dad so I wanted to make sure I was able to do it for myself. Eating out is expensive, and I’d rather spend my money on more important things.”
“I like that.” I look down at all the food on the table. “Since this isn’t something I usually have, can you put my first bowl together and show me how much of each to add.”
“Your first bowl. Nice. I already know you’re going to like it.”
“I’m game to try anything.”
“Good to know. Nothing worse than a picky eater.” I hand him my bowl, and he heaps in some rice, and then the potent, aromatic dark curry. He rips a piece of naan bread in half, and places half on the plate to the side of the bowl. “To soak everything up. Although, I like to eat it like this.” He picks his naan bread up, piles on the curry, then adds a little bit of rice. Folding t
he naan bread, he shoves it in his mouth.
I copy him, and when I taste the curry, there’s a flavor explosion in my mouth. It’s spicy, really spicy, but the heat doesn’t overpower all the different spices. “Oh my God,” I say through a mouth full of food. “The chicken just melts in my mouth. Wow.” Before I know it, I’m having a second, third, and fourth mouthful.
“It’s good, huh?” Dylan asks with a huge smile.
“So good.”
I finish my first bowl, and my stomach screams for more. Settle down, I hear ya. I dish up more, not as much rice this time. I use the naan to soak up the curry. “See, I can cook,” he says proudly.
“You can cook for me any time you want.”
“Challenge accepted.”
As my eating slows down, a thought crosses my mind. One that I think needs to be asked. “I have a question, and it might sound judgmental, but it’s not.”
“What is it?”
“You’re twenty-seven soon, right?” he nods his head. “Why aren’t you engaged, or married?”
“Um.” He swallows his food, and places his fork down. Picking up his water, he has a gulp. “I was with someone for about three years. She turned out not to be the person I thought she was.” I can tell this is difficult for him.
“How?”
“She cheated on me. She was cheating on me with her brother’s best friend. Cliché, right?” I don’t reply, I don’t know what to say. “She was cheating on me for nearly the full three years. She also maxed out one of my credit cards. And she was in a car accident with my car, which incidentally, she caused because she was drunk driving.”
“Is this the same one you caught having sex in your car?” He nods. “Why’d you stay with her?”
“Blinded by love. Or so I thought. But as it turns out, I had this overwhelming need to fix her, so she wouldn’t abandon me.”
“How long ago did all this happen?”
“I broke up with her three years ago. And since her, I decided to casually date.” I can read between the lines to decipher what he means. “Until now.”
“You’re not casually dating anymore?”
“I don’t consider what we have as casually dating. I don’t cook for my casual dates. And I’m not a fan of bringing them here.”
A shudder rolls up my back. He’s making himself sound like a man-whore. “Right,” I say as I sit back in my chair, done with the food, and nearly done with tonight.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you want me to be truthful?”
“It’s the whole casual date thing, right?”
“Yeah, I’m struggling with it. You’ve made yourself sound like casual dates is a really common thing. And you’re some kind of male ho. And I’m not…um…comfortable with that.”
“Before my cheating ex-girlfriend, I was with one other woman in a semi-long-term relationship. Since my cheating ex, I’ve been with three other women. When I say ‘casual dating,’ I don’t mean an abundant amount of sexual relationships. I mean casual relationships that for whatever reason, haven’t worked out.”
Five women at the age of twenty-six is not as many as I thought. “Have you tried to make them work?”
“One, straight up no. The only thing compatible about us was the fact we were happy to keep it very casual. With one of the others I tried, but it didn’t feel right. We both knew by our second date that neither of us were very excited about seeing the other. And the third, well, it started casual, and she was seeing someone else at the same time. They ended up getting married. I could see a future with her, but it didn’t work out.”
“Are you still seeing any of them?” He furrows his brows together, almost like he’s offended I’m even asking. “I want to know if I’m on that list. I need to know where I stand.”
“I haven’t seen any of them in months. The married one, we cut it the moment she told me she’d fallen in love with the other guy. The casual one, we barely speak, and the other one, we’ve drifted apart.”
“And what happens if the casual one decides she wants a booty call one night?” I’m asking hard questions, but I think I deserve honesty. And that’s exactly what he’s giving me. Complete, transparent honesty.
“I’d tell her, thanks, but I’m seeing someone I think I could fall in love with.”
My mouth gapes open. The hair on my arms stand to attention. I can’t believe he said the L word. “I don’t know what to say. But I like the fact you’d say no to her.”
“I’d say no to everyone, except you. I want to make this as clear as I can, Molly. I like you. Way too much for such an early stage of our relationship. I like how you’re kind, and generous, and caring. You challenge me, and I really like that. I want more. I want as much as you’re willing to give me.”
I feel a goofy smile tug on my lips. I think Dylan and I can be more. But I’m not going to jump into bed with him yet either. “If we’re being completely honest, you have to know, I don’t have any past relationships.”
“That’s okay,” he replies. The blank look on his face is priceless. It’s almost like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.
“Do you want to add anything to go with the indifferent stare?” I ask, almost frightened at his response.
“This isn’t foreign to me. I get it. Neither of us want to get hurt. And neither of us will, if we’re honest with each other. I gather that you haven’t been with anyone before. And I have no right to feel anything about it. It would be hypocritical of me to say I’m happy you haven’t and I have no right to ask why you haven’t either. I don’t care about why you have or haven’t. The only thing that matters is the now, not the past.”
How can he be so perfect? There’s no human in the world who has no flaws. And so far, I haven’t seen anything I don’t really like. “Slow, okay?”
“Turtle slow.”
I lift one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Then okay.”
“Good.” He leans over and gives me a kiss on the lips. “Tell me about Zhen. How long have you had him?” The atmosphere is much lighter now. And Dylan seems more at ease, too.
“My parents got him when I was about ten or eleven. They got him because I was struggling with school and couldn’t make friends. I had terrible anxiety. I couldn’t look anyone in the eyes. I wouldn’t talk to anyone. I was a mess of a kid.”
“Because of the adoption?” He scoops up some curry with his naan, and eats it.
“Not from the adoption. I bonded really quickly with Tina, but I couldn’t deal with things. I didn’t know how to express it.”
“And you don’t recall much of what happened before your adoption?”
I shake my head. “No, not really.” I think for a moment. “Actually, not anything. I think if I remembered, it might explain the rabbit.”
“Rabbit?” Dylan asks as he finishes what’s in his bowl.
“It’s gonna sound really dumb. But I’ve had these…” I sigh, frustrated at my lack of words. I don’t want to say ‘visions,’ because it sounds stupid.
“What? What is it?”
“Like dreams. Some guy tries to hand me a rabbit and tells me it’s time. But the worst thing is, I’ve had flashes of this rabbit while awake a couple of times. It’s dumb, right?” I lean my elbow on the table, and rub at my temple. “Just forget I said anything.”
“It’s not silly, Molly. It may be nothing, but it may be something. I don’t believe in psychic stuff, but maybe it’s some kind of repressed memory or something. I don’t know. Have you thought of seeing someone?”
“Like a shrink?” Does he think I’m crazy?
“Exactly like a shrink. I have one who I call on from time to time.”
His revelation stuns me. “You see a psychiatrist?”
“No, not a psychiatrist, a psychologist. I find him to be really helpful when I find certain times in my life challenging.”
“Do you see him all the time?”
“Nope. I started seeing him when Mom left. And then when
Dad got really sick and we didn’t know what it was. And sometimes with stuff at work, I need someone to talk to, and he’s really helpful. There’s only so much stress I can get out at the gym.”
“Your dad got sick? What happened?”
“He was diagnosed with type two diabetes. He got really sick, and was in the hospital. They tested his blood sugar, and found it was crazy high. They ran some more tests, and found he had type two diabetes. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but for someone whose Mom walked out, and whose Dad was so sick that I had no idea if he was going to live or die, it was too much for me, you know? Like the weight of the world was on my shoulders.”
“You’re surprisingly candid about the fact you see a psychologist.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m an open book. And I hate when people label people who need mental health help as crazy. There’s a little crazy inside all of us.”
I laugh out loud. “Preach it.” I smile.
“And besides, we all need some type of mental health help from time to time. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Stigma be gone.” He flicks his hand dismissively.
“You constantly surprise me.”
“So, back to you. Maybe you should see someone, try to figure out where this rabbit came from.”
“Yeah, maybe. But first, I have to try and mend what’s happening with Tina.”
He stands and takes his bowl over to the sink. “I’m here for you, whatever happens.”
I take my empty bowl over to the sink, and start clearing off the table. “Where do you want these?” There’s quite a bit left over, even though we both managed to eat a lot too.
“I’ll get some containers.” He opens one of the cupboards, and takes out some containers. “Dad loves food. And he loves this curry, so I have to make sure he has some. If he finds out we had curry, and I didn’t make enough for him…well.” He shakes his head, then makes the motion with his thumb of cutting his neck.
“Your dad’s pretty cool. Does he work?”
“Not so much anymore. He used to do work on airplanes a long time ago.”
“No way! My Dad’s an aircraft mechanic.”
“Wow, that’s what Dad used to do. He retired about two years ago. He likes to help people though, so he mows the lawns of a few old people he knows. They pay him next to nothing, but he doesn’t do it for the money. He actually donates the money.”
Echoes of You Page 13