~ Andrea

“Here you go.”

I scoop a large heap of spaghetti noodles already mixed with the meaty tomato sauce and the grated cheese and place it on Clay’s plate.

It’s only made with instant noodles, canned sauce and dried spices that Rose and I found in the pantry so I know it’s not as good as those served in Italian restaurants, which is what Clay is probably used to. Still, Rose and I worked hard to make it and I think we did a pretty good job.

Clay seems to think so, too, nodding after he eats a forkful. “It’s good.”

I heave a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure you made this?” Clay asks Rose.

Rose nods, already eating her spaghetti. “I cut the cheese.”

“Grated the cheese,” I correct, placing my hand on her head. “And she did a great job, too.”

She smiles. “I love cheese.”

I stroke her hair. “I know you do.”

“And I notice you’re quite clean, too.” Clay looks at my apron. “Not like the last time you were in the kitchen.”

“Well, this time, no one interfered.” I take off my apron, draping it over the back of my chair before sitting down to eat.

Clay says nothing, though he looks hurt.

So, he’s not laughing anymore, is he? That’s what he gets for teasing me earlier.

There I was, shaking in fear because of that spider – I still cringe to think it could have crawled on me while I was taking a bath – and there he was, making fun of me. He could have at least tried not to laugh but no. He just burst into laughter and not just once, too.

First, he was flirting with other women. Then he was making fun of me.

Way to go, Clay.

Now, should I still think he wants me back?

He was just teasing you.

He was mean, that was what. He should have been more sensitive, more caring.

Like he used to be?

I pause, trying to remember how he used to be. Come to think of it, if this had happened back then, Clay would probably have acted the same. He was always like that, teasing me. But then I never thought of it as mean or insensitive. It was just his way…of showing he cared.

Maybe it still is.

I shake my head. No. I should stop remembering the past, remember?

“Is that a good shake of the head or a bad shake of the head?” Clay asks, disrupting my thoughts.

Oops. I guess I really did shake my head.

“Because you know, some people shake their heads in disbelief when something’s too good and others…”

“It’s a good shake,” I cut him off. “The spaghetti’s too good.” I glance at Rose. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

She doesn’t answer, her mouth full.

“It would have been more fun if you let me help, though,” Clay says, setting down his fork before reaching for his glass of water. “Like last time.”

“You mean we would have ended up drenched in spaghetti sauce,” I tell him as I eat another forkful.

He licks his lips. “That sounds more delicious than being coated in flour.”

No, Andrea. Don’t you dare think of him being covered in spaghetti sauce. Just spaghetti sauce.

“But we wouldn’t have anything to eat,” I say to him. “Besides, you needed to shower.”

He gives me a puzzled look. “I thought women liked the smell of sweat.”

“Oh. Did those women at the gym tell you that?”

“They didn’t…”

He stops but I’ve already heard enough. There were women flirting with him at the gym. No matter where he goes, there are always women flirting with him.

“Are you jealous?”

I almost choke on my spaghetti. “No. Why would I be?”

“You tell me.” He twirls his fork around some noodles and pops them in his mouth.

I reach for my glass of water. “I am not jealous.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I…”

“What’s jealous?” Rose interrupts.

I glance at her then at Clay, who just keeps eating. Fine. I’ll explain.

“Jealous is another emotion. It’s what you feel when you’re angry at people for having something you don’t have.”

“So, you’re angry?” Rose’s little eyebrows crease.

“No.” I touch her hand as I shake my head. “I’m not angry because I am not jealous.” I glance at Clay as I emphasize the word ‘not’ then roll my eyes at him. “You are so annoying.”

I look back at my plate, getting more spaghetti on my fork.

“You look angry,” Rose says.

I look at her with my mouth open in surprise, my fork suspended just an inch away as if time has just stood still.

It ticks again when Clay laughs, Rose following him a moment later.

I ignore them, eating. So, they’re both making fun of me, are they? Even so, I can’t bring myself to be mad at Rose, not when she’s doing the one thing I want her most to do. As for Clay, I’m still annoyed.

I am definitely not jealous.

He’s just teasing you.

Well, he has to stop. It’s not funny anymore.

Suddenly, he stops laughing, lifting himself off his chair. At first, I’m confused, not knowing what he’s going to do. Then in the next moment, he reaches across the table, his fingertips brushing against my lower lip all the way to the corner of my mouth. Afterwards, he sits back down, licking the sauce off those same fingertips while I stare at him, mesmerized. Once again, time has stopped, and this time, my heart has as well.

“Sorry,” he mumbles when he’s done licking the last finger. “You had some sauce there.”

“Where?” Rose looks at me.

I say nothing, still stunned. What the hell just happened?

“Um, Andrea?” Rose’s soft voice breaks the spell.

“Yes?” I turn to her.

“I think you still have some sauce on your face.” She touches my cheek.

“Do I?” I quickly wipe my mouth.

“Yup. Your face looks red like a tomato.”

---

I’m blushing. Again.

Even now as I’m watching Rose play in the tub after her bath while Clay is out looking for a pony and buying dinner, I still keep remembering what happened at lunch and each time I do, I feel the heat rise from my toes all the way to my cheeks, the current driven by the force of my rapidly beating heart.

That Clay.

Don’t he dare think I don’t know what he’s doing. I’m well aware. He brings up the past to try to make me remember how we used to be and then out of the blue, he does something or says something to let me know what we could still be, what we could still have – something much more than before.

I know exactly what he’s doing. The problem is I can’t do anything about it. Whatever he’s doing, it’s working. He’s drawing me in and I’m playing right into his hands. I’m remembering and I’m feeling…things I used to feel and things I’ve never felt before.

Like jealousy. I never felt jealous before but that was because Clay wasn’t popular with the girls back then. He was already good-looking, yes, but he lacked confidence and he shunned the crowds. Before we became a couple, he was a nobody, an outsider, a loner. And after? Well, no girl had the guts to flirt with him knowing he was taken, knowing he was my boyfriend. I was the popular one, the confident one. I wasn’t surrounded by boys, though, because they were too scared of my parents who both worked in the school and because they were intimidated by how smart I was, or so my sister used to say.

So no. I never felt jealous before. I had no reason to be because I knew he was always mine. Only mine.

Well, now, I have no reason to be because he isn’t mine at all. He hasn’t been for a long time.

It’s not just jealousy, though, that’s new. There’s also that physical attraction that I’ve felt from the start. That desire. I don’t know about Clay but I was only fifteen when we were together and I didn’t feel any raging hormones. I loved him. I wanted to be with him all the time but I didn’t yearn for that physical connection.

Not like now. Each time I think I’ve forgotten about it, he does something, like brushing my lips with his fingertips earlier, and my body just buzzes to life, wanting to be closer to his.

Again, the thought makes me blush and I place my hands over my head. Ugh. He is so annoying.

Why? Because you can’t resist him? Then don’t.

That’s the thing. A part of me doesn’t want to resist at all. It just wants to jump in and start all over. But then I remember how it all ended the last time, how shattered and lost I was. I can’t just forget that.

I won’t.

“Are you angry again, Andrea?” Rose asks, resting her chin on the edge of the tub.

I put my hands down and shake my head. “No. I’m just a little tired, maybe.”

“Want to join me in the tub?” she offers.

I smile. I still can’t believe how much she’s talking now, as if there was a spell cast over her back at the ranch and now she’s no longer under it. And I can’t believe how smart she is for a six year-old.

“No, thanks.” I tell her.

“There are no spiders in here,” she assures.

I try not to imagine that, chuckling. “It’s your bath. You enjoy it. And then when you’re done, we’ll think of something fun to do.”

“Like what?” She cocks her head to one side.

I shrug, quickly trying to think of something to do. “Do you want to draw?”

---

“Look. I drew a pony.” Rose holds up her picture for me.

“Wow.” I clap my hands. “Is that your new pony?”

Rose glances at the knitted pony beside her and nods.

“That’s a beautiful drawing.” I stroke her cheek. “You’re a natural at this.”

She smiles, putting her drawing down and then leaning over the table to look at mine. “What are you drawing?”

“Um…” I tap my pencil on the table. “It’s supposed to be a castle; one I’ve seen before when I went to England but I can’t remember what it looks like anymore.”

“Why don’t you Google it?” Rose suggests, pointing to Clay’s laptop that’s on another table.

“Well…”

She’s already on her way there, turning on the laptop.

“We don’t really have internet, I think,” I tell her.

“But Clay was using it earlier,” she says.

Right. Clay was checking his messages earlier.

“Well, I don’t know the password so…”

“There’s no password,” Rose informs, her fingers dancing over the keys and the mouse pad.

I look at her in disbelief. Wait. Rose knows how to use a computer?

She didn’t have one in her room so I just assumed she didn’t know how to use one, yet here she is, seemingly more technically savvy than I am.

“You couldn’t connect because of your settings,” Rose says. “I changed them. Now, we can search the internet.”

True enough, when I go over to her, she already has the Google page open.

“Wow.”

This little girl is just full of surprises.

“So, what do you want to search?” she asks.

I look at her. “How do you know all this? Did your father teach you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “But I spent a lot of time watching him on his computer. Sometimes, I’d sit on his lap as he worked.”

So all those times when she was staring at her father’s screen and watching his fingers on the keyboard, she was learning all about computers?

This isn’t just intelligence or talent. This is…

“You’re a computer genius, Rose,” I tell her.

And the real deal, I might add. Nowadays, genius is a word thrown around and many parents like to believe or even think their child is one but only so few, actually, are born with the outstanding mental capacity.

“What’s a genius?” she asks me.

“Someone really, really smart,” I say. “Or really good at something.”

She smiles, pleased by the answer. “Shall we tell Clay?”

I pause to think then place my hand on her head. “You know what? Why don’t we make this our secret for now?”

It’s not that I’m trying to get back at him for teasing me or excluding him on purpose. I just want to observe the phenomenon a little more.

Rose’s smile grows wider. “I love secrets.”

“Good.”

“Does that mean I have to stop now?” Rose’s shoulders bunch up as she looks at me with those pleading eyes.

Puppy-dog eyes. Simply irresistible.

I lift my arm to look at my watch, tapping the surface as I try to remember what time Clay left.

“I think you can continue for a little bit longer,” I finally answer.

Something tells me Clay is still searching for Rose’s pony.