by Holly Rayner
After selecting a red, I uncork it and pour us each a glass. Kal looks too busy mixing herbs into his sauce to take a sip, though. It’s clear that cooking pulls him into the zone.
Relaxed in one of the breakfast table’s chairs, I sip my wine.
“Are you like this when you paint?” I ask.
“Like how?” He glances over his shoulder, his hands never halting their constant motion.
“Lost to what you’re doing. In your element.”
“Hm.” Stirring his sauce, he appears to think on it. “Perhaps, but it’s not something I’m aware of. I don’t have an outsider’s perspective of myself. What about you? Do you often lose yourself in your work?”
“Sometimes.” I run my finger around the rim of my wine glass. “Even sometimes is good, though. I’m lucky. I love my job, and a lot of people can’t say that.”
The sound of footsteps nearing has me look toward the hall. For such a little girl, Maya sure does make a lot of noise.
She appears in the kitchen, two remote control cars in hand.
“Hey, Julia, did you see these?”
“No. What are they?”
Of course I know what they are, but why not humor the kid?
She sets them on the table. “They’re my remote control cars. One I got at Christmas and the other I saved up all my allowance for. Wanna see?”
“Totally.”
She sets them on the table. “Oh, man. I forgot the remotes! Be right back!”
Maya zooms out of the room, and I look to Kal for his reaction.
“She wants to impress you,” he says.
“Really? Me?” That makes me sit a little straighter.
Maya is back already, two controllers in hand. “Okay, here we go.”
She hits a button, and one of the cars flies off the table and lands on the floor. It speeds into the fridge before turning around and hitting the leg of my chair.
“That’s fast,” I tell her.
“I know, right? Hold on. I have more to show you.” Maya gathers up her cars and remotes and leaves the room.
“Are you impressed yet?” Kal asks.
“Maybe,” I coyly answer. “Oh, wait. Are you asking about her trying to impress me, or you trying to impress me?”
Kal growls low in his throat. It’s an animalistic sound that sends my every nerve into high alert. My heart starts racing, and suddenly all I can think about is the feel of his lips on mine.
I open my mouth, about to express as much, but Maya is back.
“Here’s my volcano.” She extends the hunk of plastic. “You put baking soda and dressing in the top, and it explodes.”
“Dressing?” Kal asks.
Maya frowns. “Yes, Dad. Salad dressing. Duh.”
His smile falls. Stern Kal is on duty. “Do not say “duh” to me. That is disrespectful. Dinner is ready. Put your toys away and wash your hands, please.”
“Will Julia wash her hands with me?”
“I don’t know. Ask her.”
“I would be honored to,” I say, standing up. “Lead the way.”
Putting the toys away and getting Maya’s hands under running water seems to take an awfully long time. Once we’re finally cleaned up, we join Kal in the kitchen, where a spread of pasta, salad, and breadsticks has been laid out. The smell of all the good food makes my stomach growl.
I take the seat between Maya and Kal.
“This looks amazing,” I say.
Maya grins. “Dad’s the best at making pasta sauce.”
“I can already believe that, and I haven’t even tasted it yet.”
I don’t have to make my own plate. Kal’s already done it for me. Fork raised at the ready, I wait until he serves Maya and himself to start.
The girl is right. This might be the best pasta sauce ever. I’m moaning around the first bite. Kal’s noticed—his eyebrows jump the slightest bit, and he bites gently into the corner of his bottom lip. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it; his attention is completely fixed on me.
“Sorry.” I touch two fingers to my mouth. “It’s good. Really, really good.”
“I’m glad. I aim to please.”
“Well, sir, you do a good job at it.”
“I like to think so… and not just in the kitchen.”
Ho-ly smokes.
I glance at Maya. She’s twirling spaghetti around her fork, completely oblivious to the adults flirting in front of her.
I’m flushed and out of things to say on the matter of how impressive Kal is. It’s time to stuff some bread in my mouth and turn the conversation to calmer topics.
“Are you going on any trips this summer, Maya?”
“Dad is taking me to Hawaii.”
“What?” Kal exclaims. “I never said that.”
“Yeah, you did. I asked you about it, remember? You said ‘someday.’”
“‘Someday’ does not mean this summer.”
“Okay,” she says. “When does it mean?”
Kal spreads his palms, amusement making his mouth hang open. “It means an unidentified point in the future.”
“Uh-huh. This summer.” Maya’s face breaks into a mischievous smile.
I jump on Maya’s side. “Yeah, Dad. Take a girl to Hawaii.”
Kal points his fork across the table. “What would you even do in Hawaii?”
“This.” Maya gets up from the table and starts hula dancing.
“Perfect.” I clap and whoop, and Kal joins in.
“Thank you.” Maya takes a bow.
“See?” I ask Kal. “She’s clearly been practicing. How could you deny her Hawaii after seeing that?”
Kal rolls his eyes playfully. “Traitor,” he breathes, then squeezes my knee under the table. All the colors in the kitchen brighten, and my heart sings.
It’s been years since I’ve been this happy. Maybe since I was a kid myself, living carefree and with both parents still alive.
Kal showing me his hidden paintings makes this moment more meaningful. His dark mood at the zoo had me worried, but maybe I overreacted. The monkeys could have reminded him of something troublesome from his past, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never share that part of his life with me.
It also doesn’t mean he wants me gone. I get it now: that gesture in the work shed was him showing me that he already feels close to me.
I understand. I feel the same.
We only met last week. All of this is still so new… but is it crazy that I can see my life being like this night all the time? Me, Kal, and Maya, having dinner and cracking jokes.
My intuition tells me it’s not crazy at all. It’s perfect.
Chapter 11
Julia
“Oh… my… goodness.” Leaning back in my chair, I pat my belly and blow out my cheeks.
Maya laughs—the reaction I was going for.
“You look like a chipmunk,” she says.
“I feel like one that ate all the nuts I was saving for the winter. I’m completely stuffed.”
“Me, too.” In an imitation of me, Maya pats her belly.
“That’s too bad.” Kal collects our empty plates. “I had hoped you two would have saved room for dessert.”
Maya’s eyes connect with mine, and I nod eagerly.
“Hey, you know what?” I say. “I’m suddenly not full anymore. I’m really hungry, actually. Pasta must not fill you up for long.”
“Yeah,” Maya says. “Not long at all. I’m hungry, hungry.”
Kal sets the plates in the sink and turns to face us. “Mm. I don’t know. We wouldn’t want you both getting sick from eating too much.”
“Can’t happen,” I declare. “I’m a bottomless pit.”
“Yeah, me too,” Maya says. “I’m a bottomless…” She looks to me. “What?”
“I guess we could try it out,” Kal says. “Julia, I’m sorry. I forgot to ask. Are you all right with coconut?”
“I’m more than all right with it. I love it.”
He
goes to the fridge and pulls out a layered cake. The white frosting has flakes of coconut in it, and sliced strawberries decorate the top. The sight of it sets my mouth watering.
“My favorite!” Maya claps her hands.
“Did you bake this?” I ask Kal.
He sets the cake in the middle of the table with the kind of care that says he did.
“Yesterday,” he says with a shrug.
“Were you expecting a special occasion?”
“I hoped for one.” His heated gaze makes me putty in his hands.
With deft hands, Kal cuts the cake and serves us.
It’s soft as a cloud underneath my fork, and tastes incredible.
“Yes,” I say. “This is a big yes.”
“Good.” Under the table, Kal’s knee bumps mine.
Maya picks out a strawberry and nibbles at its edges. “Yum, yum. Is it the best cake you ever had, Julia?”
“Well…”
Kal’s brow furrows in mock consternation. “Julia?”
They’re making me laugh, but my mouth is full of cake. Holding up a finger to ask for a moment, I chew and swallow before answering.
“It’s really good,” I say. “And I love coconut and strawberries together, but I’m pretty sure I’ve already had the best cake I’ll ever eat.”
“What cake?” Maya prods.
“Tres Leches cake. Have you ever had it?”
She shakes her head.
“It’s a sponge cake, so it’s really light and fluffy. You make it with three different kinds of milk.”
“There are three different milks?”
“More.”
“Will you make it for me sometime?” Maya asks.
Her request is touching.
“I would love to,” I tell her.
“And it will be the best cake I’ll ever have.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“You two are hurting my feelings here,” Kal says.
“Yeah,” Maya says. “Dad is a sensitive man.”
I almost drop my fork. Next thing I know, I’m laughing so hard my sides start to hurt.
“It’s okay.” Maya pats her father’s arm. “Men should be sensitive.”
“Where did you hear about sensitive men?” Kal asks.
“On the radio.”
“Ah. Yes.” He takes a sip of water. “Sometimes I forget I have a very aware little girl in the back seat.”
“Why, Julia?” Maya asks, her attention swiveling back to me.
“Sorry. Why what?”
“Why would your cake not be the best I could have? You said it’s the best for you.”
“Oh. Right. Gotcha.” I take another bite of Kal’s cake, savoring both the taste of it and the pleasure that comes with knowing he made it.
“Because,” I say, “even though I have my grandmother’s recipe and I’ve practiced and tweaked it for years, I’ve never been able to make it quite like she did. Hers was the best. She would make it for me every time my parents took me to visit her in Puerto Rico.”
Maya blinks, eyes wide. “Do you go there now?”
My chest tightens. “I haven’t been in a few years.”
I miss it there, but with my grandparents gone and any other relatives moved out of the area, there’s not much of a reason to visit. I’m afraid a trip there would make me nostalgic to the point of bringing my spirits down.
“Oh.” Maya’s shoulders slump. She stares at her plate, and the tight feeling in my ribcage increases.
I glance at Kal, looking for an answer to Maya’s abrupt mood change. He only wipes his mouth with his napkin and clears his throat.
It’s like he doesn’t notice the change.
But of course he does.
I swallow against a lump in my throat.
“Maya,” I ask, “is everything okay?”
“I had a grandma,” she says in a small voice.
“Oh, yeah?”
Maya nods slowly. “I never got to meet her. She died before I was born.”
“I’m sorry. My grandparents are gone, too.”
“But you knew them,” she says.
“I did.” My breath hurts. Man, how I feel for her.
“And my grandpa’s not dead,” she says. “He’s alive. He lives in Europe, but we’ve never gone to see him, and he’s never come here to see us either. He’s never sent me anything either, like Emily’s grandpa. He’s always sending her toys and books. Even when it’s not Christmas or her birthday.”
The room goes painfully quiet.
Why isn’t Kal saying anything?
I can’t help it: I’m staring at him, waiting for him to console Maya, waiting for him to confirm what she’s said, waiting for him to apologize for his father’s neglecting her. Hell, waiting for him to laugh it off and say none of this is true.
I almost don’t care. There needs to be some kind of reaction.
Kal pushes his chair back, the wooden legs making a painful scraping noise on the floor. “It’s getting late, Maya. Time for bed.”
She starts to pout, but something about Kal’s demeanor must change her mind because she nods instead.
“Go pick your book out while I start the bath.”
Maya comes around the table to hug me. “Good night, Julia.”
I give her an extra tight squeeze. “Good night. Sleep tight.”
She leaves the kitchen, Kal close behind her. I’m left sitting at the table, the cake and plates still spread out, wondering what the heck just went down.
The sound of running water comes from down the hall, and there’s some splashing, but not much talking. Maya’s chatty self is nowhere to be heard.
Is Kal going to talk with her about all this? Or let it be?
What kind of grandfather doesn’t come visit his granddaughter even once in seven years? The kind who is financially strapped, I suppose. But then couldn’t Kal help him out with a plane ticket? I’ve no clue what the typical carpenter makes, but this house and Kal’s car are both fairly nice. He doesn’t seem to be hurting for cash.
The only conclusion I can come to is that he and his father are estranged. Okay. I get that.
But isn’t there a way he can explain that to Maya? Especially if it’s done gently? She’s a smart kid, and everyone, no matter their age, appreciates the truth.
I’m still sitting in shock when Kal pops back into the kitchen. The muscles in his jaw are tight, his shoulders even tighter.
He stands in the doorway for a long moment, looking at me.
“Did she get in the bath all right?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Nodding, I stand. It was rude of me to sit here and not clean up the dessert plates. I get to that now, stacking them and putting the forks on top.
“There’s no need,” Kal says. “I’ll do that.”
But I’m already setting them in the sink. “It’s all right. I can load the dishwasher while you get her into bed.”
“No. I will take care of cleaning up later. Thank you.”
He’s not looking at me at all.
“It’s no trouble.”
“It’s fine.”
“O-kay. Kal, look…”
“It’s late.” His shoulders rise with a sharp inhale.
“Did I do something wrong?”
He lifts his eyes to me, but there’s a veil over them. He’s hiding himself. “No.”
I cross my arms. Bull.
“The mood in here changed real quick, Kal. I know something’s up.”
He crosses the room and opens the door to the side yard, a move that has my jaw dropping.
“Good night, Julia.”
I walk to the doorway but don’t go all the way out it.
“Listen,” I say. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong. I didn’t know that the subject of grandparents was sensitive ground.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” He offers me a fake smile. “Believe me, I do not hold that against you at all.”
“Then what do
you hold against me?”
“Nothing. It’s late.”
It can’t be past seven thirty. I stare into his eyes one more long moment, hoping that he’ll take the opportunity and open up to me.
Nothing happens. He’s more statue than man.
“You can share with me, Kal. I won’t run away because you have a secret or there’s something you’re ashamed of.”
His hand is tight on the doorknob. “Good night, Julia.”
My heart plummets, smacking into my stomach on its descent and taking the two of them down, down.
They’re still falling as I turn and walk across the yard, hearing Kal’s door close behind me. They’re still falling as I let myself into Shay’s house and wipe away silent tears.
Hours later, I’m sitting in the window seat in the living room, looking out at the dark night, and nothing’s changed. All the hope I’d built up for something meaningful with Kal has been shattered.
And the worst part is that I don’t understand why. He doesn’t think I’m worthy of explaining things to.
The tears come on fresh, and I blink them back. I’ve cried enough over him already. I need to get my head straight.
It’s not that he doesn’t find me worthy of being honest with. He hasn’t known me long enough to deal that personal of a blow.
He can’t be transparent. Or he doesn’t want to be.
Pulling my phone out, I type in “Kal Harris, Sterling, Ohio” and pause. I’m no expert on the matter, but isn’t that an unusual last name for someone from his part of the world?
The hits I get are limited, and though Kal is mentioned in a couple newspaper articles about building houses for the needy, there are no pictures of him. He has zero social media presence. No website or anything promoting his carpentry business.
You’d think he’s averse to pictures.
Sighing, I put the phone away. It’s probably good there’s little to be found online. It would be too easy to fall down the rabbit hole and stalk him out of a need to get some answers.
What I should be focusing on is moving forward. After tonight, it’s unlikely Kal will ever want to see me again. As for myself, he can show me all the gorgeous, enigmatic paintings he likes, it doesn’t mean I’m going to overlook his insensitive and mysterious behavior.
The moments we shared together were nice, but it’s time for me to move on.