IT WAS AS IF Chloe went into hibernation. However, she didn’t go home to do it, which was where she should probably have gone. No. After that night, she hunkered down and hid away in Chet’s place. And he let her. He didn’t even once hint that she should go home and give him his space, as any reasonable person might have demanded. Or requested. Or expected. No. Chet embraced her. She woke up the next morning and felt awkward with him. But she didn’t hesitate to say yes to his suggestion that they go out to breakfast. They ate at a little coffee shop in Silver Springs, not her café, which she still avoided. Upon passing it, however, Chloe didn’t fail to notice the parking lot was full. Sunday mornings drew crowds before and after church so the place was usually hopping. It was odd how detached she felt toward it though. It belonged solely to her now. It was all hers. She spotted Petra and Tara when the car passed by in a blur. She didn’t care and quickly turned away, uninterested in what was going on there. Neither the staff, the customers nor the business in general managed to draw her interest. Chloe wasn’t sure which days Chet worked now that Petra was making the schedule.

While eating breakfast, Chloe asked Chet if it were okay if she stayed at his place for a while. He said yes without any questions like why, or how long? He wasn’t even curious to know what she envisioned happening from this. He didn’t hesitate either, but just said yes. Chloe reveled in it. She asked him to stop by her house so she could grab some stuff, so he pulled into her driveway, turned his car off, and followed her inside. Waiting in her living room, Chet was silent as she gathered some things from her bedroom and put them into a bag before using a smaller one for all of her grooming needs. Without any comment, Chet took the bags from her and stowed them in his car. Sparing neither a word nor a startled glance, Chet resumed his neutral face again. It might have annoyed her if she were trying to gauge how he felt about something, especially the good things. But when she was worried or unsure of how he felt, she was glad he didn’t show any anger or even flinch. Nothing. Nada. He followed her out and that was that.

“Do you have any preference as to where I set this stuff?” she asked when she first walked into his confined space with all her gear.

He shrugged and said, “No.” Just no. Without any reassurances or waffling or panicked looks of discomfort. She nodded, deciding she’d take his word for it. He was so cut-and-dried. She believed he’d tell her if he minded or had any misgivings before explaining exactly what they were.

Hiding safely in his small bungalow, she felt as if she dropped off the face of the earth. She gazed out over the natural views through the back windows. Only the front door faced out towards the road and driveway. Further off lived the owners of the land and the cabin. Chloe spent her days pretending there was no outside world. She walked the trails along the river. The beach wasn’t much of one, but a path led through the trees to a lush, grassy land that rimmed the river. The views were breathtaking. The huge trees absorbed most of the noise from the road traffic, but the river had plenty of boat traffic so Chloe never felt cut off from the world.

She watched the numerous kite-surfers executing their elaborate jumps and speedy surface runs throughout the afternoon and evenings. All day, barges floated up and down the river. There were various types of boats to see. Some were on their way to the dam, where they planned to use the locks to go further upriver. Some were headed to the Snake River, via the locks and into Idaho. She watched fishermen, water-skiers, and happy people who were out enjoying the nice weather and water in their personal watercrafts. Chloe grew up there, and often passed the river as she drove around town, going up and down the coastline towards Portland and back. It wasn’t all that exotic to her. But now it took on a new meaning. It was a challenge for her to find a way to get through each day. So having an unscheduled respite was a luxury. Tucking herself away from all that was familiar to her, she somehow found the will and energy to survive. She found the strength to not drown herself in pills that only numbed her pain without removing it. This was her best effort at dealing with it all. She cried a lot. She thought a lot too. She remembered things she hadn’t thought of in years. Wandering around, doing nothing, she often stared outside and hours passed by without her being aware of it. At other times, the minutes dragged on like hours. But being at Chet’s was different and unfamiliar so there was no guilt by association to her sister and family.

Her parents didn’t even call her. She told them she wanted to take some time off and planned to stay with a friend and they eagerly agreed. Okay. Sure. Go ahead. They didn’t ask for one detail. Like who her friend was or what she was doing or for how long. They didn’t even ask if she were okay. She dutifully checked in and asked them though. She couldn’t muster the strength to see them, however. She relied on Ryder for that and begged him to. Of course, he did, after reassuring her to take all the time she needed. When she claimed she would be staying with a friend from school, he didn’t press for details. He obliged her wishes and took care of her parents, every single day, as she should have done. But she just couldn’t.

Some days, Chloe felt like a ghost and she didn’t bother to get dressed or shower. On others, she managed to wear loose, lounging clothes. And rarely did she put anything on that resembled the old her. That part of her identity was forgotten. Her studious attention to makeup, hair, and fashion were deeply ingrained in her, and something she had always prided herself in. Not so much anymore. Her eyes remained swollen and pink from crying. Tears became a frequent companion now, appearing at all times of the day, and without warning or explanation. She felt like she were dripping in tears. The convulsing tears were physically painful and sapped her emotional energy. She could only endure those episodes and try to expunge the thoughts that led to them. She resented those soul-gutting crying jags because she couldn’t control or stop them. She stopped being surprised if she felt skinny tracks of tears streaming down her face when she wasn’t even aware she was crying. Many things managed to set her off. Yet she was never entirely sure what or why. A thought. A song. A commercial on TV, peculiar things that reminded her of Ebony.

And as for the stranger with whom she lived as she walked around like a zombie or cried hysterically, rocking and choking on her sobs before staring at the TV for ten hours, what did Chet do? Nothing. He went on about his life. He went to bed and got up and worked on the days he was scheduled. He bought groceries and fixed dinners and breakfasts, leaving the meals for her when he had to work. Although she was absent, Chet’s face was still familiar at her establishment, her business. The irony of that sometimes tickled her and made her laugh. They never discussed the topic. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. She didn’t care either. Not in the least. The only way her café affected her now was in Chet’s routine and the hours when he had to work.

During all of this, Chet cared for her. He simply cared for her. In her calmer moments, when she felt a smidgeon like herself, she realized that. He took care of her basic physical needs like food and shelter. He kept the place clean too, from her dishes to her laundry. He did her freaking laundry. Without mentioning a word about it. He didn’t give her ambiguous looks that might have suggested she should get her shit together because she was bothering him. Not at all. He just did what he did without comment. He spoke to her when she initiated conversation, and left her alone when she didn’t. She’d never been around anyone like him before. He could remain quiet for hours and hours on end. With only a few places to go in his home, he often painted. She silently watched him or stared off toward his subjects. He had no trouble in letting her be. Yet he was always there for her. He saw to all of her physical comforts and didn’t expect a word of thanks or even an acknowledgment. When she did come out of her comatose-like state, which occasionally happened, she always thanked him but knew he deserved so much more.

She wasn’t wrong. She distinctly got the feeling that he liked her presence. He didn’t seem to mind even though he was a complete loner, which she quickly discovered. And yet, whatever emotional state she might have been in, from feeling okay to feeling really, really bad, he just accepted her. He had no problem leaving her alone and seemed to take his cue from her moods. He always knew how much to engage her and what to do for her. Sometimes, he held her at night. The nights were always the hardest for her, and the times when she felt the loneliest, and the most lost and vulnerable. She liked the way he made her feel. She realized that anything can happen at any time to anyone. She wasn’t used to thoughts like that. Not at all. She didn’t understand until then that her life was so beyond her control. She had a lingering fear, a vulnerability that made her feel unsafe and alone all the time. His solid warmth in holding her alleviated both anxieties.

Of course, there was sex too. Not every time, but occasionally, it was the one thing she really experienced, the fulfillment of a desire to be held and warm and alive. Sometimes, she felt so numb inside, it scared her, and having sex reminded her she was still existing and functioning as a real woman should. And Chet let her exist with very little commentary. It was a gift unlike any other she could imagine. And yet she sensed none of it was really a hardship for him.

His effortless way of having her there and dealing with her without questioning it was wonderful for her. She did not fail to notice their developing relationship, which, although a respite and comfort to her, was also kind of unique. Not in a bad way. Or a good one. But it was different in the way that Chet responded to her.

“I saw my mom today.” They were lying in his bed together. She was wrapped in his arms, with her head resting against his chest. She quickly grew used to the way his body felt against hers. She was starting to love how small she felt in his arms and how protective he seemed toward her. It was dark outside and she hadn’t spoken in a while.

His tone was sleepy when he answered, “And?”

Somehow, his one-word, terse answer made her smile. Never any who, or what, or where, or when, or why with Chet. She considered herself lucky that he even grunted out that reply. She noticed that several times in conversations he didn’t respond. She had to ask if he heard her, and usually, the answer was yes, of course. That was inevitably followed by a scowl before she snapped, “Then answer me.” She tried to explain that she needed to hear him talk or nod or smile or grunt even. Something that would let her know he was listening and heard her. Otherwise, it was like talking to a wall.

Stone-faced, he nodded and said, “Okay.”

From that day forward, he tried to do just that. Perhaps it was peculiar, but also strangely good. Anything she pointed out or asked for, was instantly addressed by Chet.

“Mom doesn’t even seem to notice I’m not around anymore, not even in town. She hasn’t even asked where I am. Or if I’m okay. I ask about her health every time we speak. She tells me Dad has been staying in bed a lot. She’s got the opposite problem and can’t sleep. But she doesn’t ask me how I am.”

Silence. She kicked her foot into his calf. He grunted. “That my cue?” he replied, his tone witty and dry. He never failed to make her smile when nothing else could or would.

“Yes. Try to act horrified. Shouldn’t she care or at least notice that her only remaining daughter has all but disappeared? I could be suicidal, you know. Does she think my twin stood alone and had no clone? Have I become invisible?”

“But you’re not,” Chet stated. He rarely asked since he seemed to have a rather clear picture of her, and a pretty decent grip on how she felt as well as functioned. He had a freaky, hyper sense of radar when it came to his observations. Noting every small detail in everything around him, it seemed especially heightened when he was with her. Whatever his interest in her was, she knew it ran deep and true.

“No. I’m not.”

“They’re hurting too, Chloe. They just can’t be the parents they once were right now, just as you can’t be the old Chloe.”

“They could ask about me occasionally, maybe just once.”

He squeezed her. “Yes. They could ask about you just once.”

She tilted her head up to see his face. “I think I should go back to the café. I can’t keep hiding out here. It can’t possibly be good for me. Or you.”

His gaze remained neutral as he said, “I’m fine. You don’t have to do anything on account of me.”

For the first time in a month, she asked, “How is it going?”

“The café?”

“Yes.”

“Still there. Still serving plates of food.”

She laughed. “I should go in and at least make an appearance.”

“Do you think you’re ready yet? Considering—”

“My last attempt? I think I have accepted that Tara is there and now I can handle it.”

“Well, it’s yours. You should do whatever you think you’re ready for.”

She flipped all the way over. “How come you tolerated me just staying here like this?”

His gaze held hers. “I liked you since the first time I saw you.”

“You were attracted to me, you mean?”

“Yes. But I liked you. Your easy-going smile and effortless manner with people. Something very attractive and not within my realm of talent or abilities, wouldn’t you say?”

“I might have said that before. But with me? Whatever you do seems to be working.”

“I listen.”

“Yeah.” She touched his cheek. “You listen and comprehend what I say, without any demands or judgments and I feel heard. It’s the strangest damn thing. This must have been torture for you?”

“No.”

She hid her smile of half amusement, half frustration. She usually insisted on having more from him. More insight. More words. More descriptions. More clarification. But always, he answered only what she asked.

“Explain what no means. Humor me.”

“No means I told you, from the start that you could stay here for however long you needed to and that’s exactly what you did. It wasn’t any surprise. I was at the funeral.”

“I think you might have actually saved my sanity. I worry, though, that I’m using you. Once I’m better and stronger, I’ll be done. How real can this be? Especially after how it started?” She shook her head, casting her eyes downwards. “Honestly? I can’t believe I even say things like that out loud to you.”

“Then I guess I served a purpose and you just needed me for this.”

“But that’s not fair. Not to you.”

“I don’t believe it’s the case.” His tone was clear, even and confident. She almost persuaded herself she wasn’t doing that at seeing his conviction. Shouldn’t she have already known what she was doing and feeling? Maybe, but she didn’t. And she was honest with him about that. There were many things she failed at, or neglected or avoided of late, but there was one thing she could claim: her honesty with Chet. Complete, right down to her gut, honesty. Which was weird because she had barely known him when this all started.

“And if it is?”

“Then I deal with it. What else would there be to do?”

Yes, indeed. Always first with the logic.

She took in a huge breath, sniffing his skin. He always smelled clean and warm but with something more. It could have been the soap or whatever medium he painted in, but it never failed to comfort her because it was so distinctly Chet. “I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone, except Ebony know me as well as you do, or see me in the ways you have.”

“What ways?” his tone was deeper than usual. She popped her head up. Did she detect a tone of emotion? Was that his reaction? It was strange and new for him.

“Down and dirty. I mean, you’ve seen me when I’m literally dirty. From my hair to my fingernails. And also emotionally dirty by acting lazy and spoiled. Crying and carrying on when I should have been doing anything but. You’ve witnessed me at my worst and my most honest self. No pretenses. No attempts to conceal anything about me. You’ve seen me when I neglected how I appeared physically, emotionally and even in my behavior. I’ve been terrible company to be around, and yet you’ve done nothing but stay with me and help me. You never experienced me when I wasn’t like this. Why would you willingly dive into this mess? Because that’s what I’ve become and will remain in the near future.”

“I already told you. I like you. I wanted to sleep with you. This just happened. I don’t change my mind about people because the circumstances change. And I hate anything fake. I don’t need you acting your best before I want to be with you.”

“I’m sorry.” She kissed his chest. He rubbed her tangled hair.

“You can’t be sorry for the circumstances you didn’t create.”

“No, I’m sorry I never saw you before the day my sister’s murdered body was found. I’m sorry it took that for me to actually see you.”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to be noticed. Remember? I thought you were fucking Ryder and didn’t want—”

She kicked him again, gently, but firmly. He caught her hand in his. “Sorry. Sleeping with Ryder.”

“Thank you. I don’t know how I’d have survived all of this without you. The biggest surprise is before this, I didn’t even know you.”

“Well, it kind of threw us in the deep end and we both had to figure it out fast before we sunk. And I think, so far, we’ve figured it out together pretty well.”

Their mouths met along with their bodies in a soft, easy, slow lovemaking. With their arms tightly wrapped around each other’s torso, their bodies joined in a gradual, languid connection that she felt in her heart as much as her body.

****

Chloe waited another week before she decided she would go back to work. She needed to do the paperwork, and get a clear picture of what transpired during her absence. Her decision made, she suddenly grew anxious to return to the café. How was the payroll being done? Who did it? No one ever signed the checks but her. It was the reason she rarely left town or took a vacation. Who covered the weekly inventory? Who maintained the relations with the local farmer that supplied the beef? Or the wholesaler that supplied chicken? And what about the produce? The list went on. Chloe started to panic as she fully comprehended how long it had been since she was there and how much she missed.

Dressing in black slacks and a white blouse as she used to do, she applied makeup and wrapped her hair in a careful knot on her head with a few curls escaping. She ate breakfast and waved at Chet, who wasn’t working until later. Her heart swelled. What would that be like? After hiding out for weeks at his place, how would that translate in the work environment where the dynamics were turned upside-down? At work, she was the owner, leader, and boss; she had the final say. How could their newfound connection survive that? What did it mean? Apprehension washed over her. She didn’t have the energy, however, to worry how it would go.

She drove first to her parents’ house, entering the front door with a heavy heart. The place was in utter disarray. Guilt flooded her mind as she took in the volume of the mess. She hadn’t been there in six weeks. Which was once unheard of. But not for them. Not once in that time did either parent ask her where she was, or why she hadn’t come by. They didn’t even ask how she was. She doubted they knew she hadn’t been at the café in that long either. She walked through their house, picking up a few things and setting them on the counter. “Mom? Dad?”

She found her dad in his den, lying on the couch, and staring at the TV. He glanced up at her, without bothering to swing his feet down to get up. Clad in dirty pajamas, Chloe saw dried food stains on his chest. “Hey, honey,” he muttered, still staring at the TV.

Concerned, she stepped closer. “Where’s Mom?”

“Oh, she went to visit her friend, Calista, for a few days.”

“What? I just talked to her. She didn’t mention anything about that.”

He clicked the TV remote without glancing up. “No? Well, I think it was a last-minute decision.”

“Dad?” he was staring at an infomercial about an anti-depressant. “Dad?” she insisted louder, stepping closer. “Are you two doing okay?”

He glanced up at her finally. “Well, we’re still kicking. So I guess so.”

“I’m going back to work today.”

“Yeah. That’s what you do.”

“Dad, I haven’t worked since Ebony’s funeral.”

“Oh? No? Well, then, good luck.” He snapped the remote back on and the TV blared between them, essentially drowning her out. She sighed, her heart dipping. Sure. Things were great. “Okay. Bye then, Dad. If you need anything…”

But he didn’t answer. He lay his head back down on the filthy throw pillow and stared upwards.

Sighing, she left and pulled into her parking spot at the café. She stared longingly at the back door handle, giving herself a pep talk. Act and be professional. No more stupid shit. No exploding at innocent people. She planned to start by entering her office and sorting through all the paperwork. That’s it. Only a few hours to start. There would be no interaction with customers for sure, and only limited time devoted to the employees. Just a baby step today. Maybe two hours, tops. Sucking in air, she entered her own kitchen.

It was humming away and Tiana was cooking while Dok and Petra served. Chloe waved at them. “Hi.” Everyone stopped dead, but Petra stepped forward. “Oh, honey. How are you?”

Chloe smiled, but her mouth was quivering. “Better.” She glanced at Dok and then back at Petra. “Well, now at least I have a better grip on things, so I promise not to fire anyone.”

There was a soft, subtle chuckle at her infamous reference. “Honest. I need to get back to work. Get my mind focused on important things again, get it off—”

“Of course. Of course,” Petra clucked. “Would you like to meet with me about what I’ve been doing?”

Chloe smiled with waning energy. “No, thanks. Not today. Could I just get a glance at the paperwork and whatever else is on my desk? Eventually, we’ll talk. As of now, you’re still in charge, okay? Do you mind?” It could have been forever. But Chloe bit her tongue. No. She’d be back. She had to get better.

“Yes. For as long as you need me.”

She entered her office, but turned back at the door. “I think I’d like you to stay on as manager. I have too much work as it is, and I’m already working at full capacity. I’ve had to let a lot of it go because it was the business end, all the stuff I hated doing when I hoped Ebony would eventually come back and do it. But I need to face reality now, that it’s all mine.”

“I would love to stay on.” Petra replied enthusiastically and Chloe smiled, but she felt ill at ease. She didn’t want to relinquish control of the kitchen to her wait staff and customers. That was the part she loved. She detested being stuck in the office and attending to paperwork all day or typing on the computer and calling the vendors and… oh, well, it appeared that was her job now.

 She sat down at her desk, stretching her arms out and tapping her fingers nervously. There were piles of mail to go through. She sighed, picking up the first thing she saw. After scanning the bill for coffee, she glanced at another for ice cream and so the pile of bills went.

Her office door was open. She heard Chet entering when a round of greetings welcomed him. She got up and leaned against the door frame, staring at him. He was casually reaching for the apron he wore around his waist, tying it as he had always done for over three years. How many times had she watched him do that? Not even once did it register with her. Not really. Now? She stared in awe and observed him with a touch of obsession. She found his movements very sexy. He turned and pushed up his sleeves, starting in on the stack of dishes. He bent over, removing the loose food scraps and as he turned, his gaze caught hers. She seemed to be trying to devour him. Her naked longing had to show. She didn’t expect to feel it so strongly either. Not here. Not in this environment. He didn’t show any reaction. Nada. Anyone who saw him right now would never have known he slept with Chloe or said a kind word to her, much less, cooked and cleaned and cared for her. No one could have suspected that he often held her when she wept uncontrollably. How did he do it? She could not comprehend his poise and aplomb. He could stay absolutely neutral. So comfortable in his neutrality, he had no problem acting normal. She couldn’t hide her weary smile. She needed something to boost her resolve. Tears were close to filling her eyelids.

He finally nodded, but no smile. However, his eyes seemed to exchange sentiments in a long, heartfelt conversation. All at once, his gaze warmed up and somehow, he also managed to shore up her strength.

He didn’t smile back at her but turned to finish the stack of morning dishes. She sighed, knowing it was nothing for her to be offended over. Part of what helped her recuperate so well was his general neutrality and even nature. His ability to comfort her without getting involved. He could hold her steady by being very cool and levelheaded. But at other times, she wondered why he didn’t react more emotionally to her. Yet, she always felt cared for. She was sure now that he genuinely cared about her, even if his reaction to her wasn’t particularly emotional. She sensed his gaze on her and whatever his dark eyes could manage to communicate, they revealed more feelings than his words ever could. His tone of voice was soothing to her. She turned and tried to concentrate by reviewing the outstanding accounts and invoices. She noted her insurance premiums were due. Petra told her she asked Ryder for help and they sent out the payroll to an accounting firm. It wasn’t cheap either. Chloe cancelled that service immediately. Although she was grateful for the reprieve, she was ready to handle it from now on.

After work, she stopped by her house. It felt very strange and not like it even belonged to her anymore. Still spotlessly clean from Chet, she had no interest in staying there. Not since the night of her midnight intruder. Now it seemed such a silly thing to be afraid of. One time, one night and the random wannabe intruder scared her so much that she couldn’t stay there anymore? Almost no one knew where she was staying. She grabbed some clothes and headed home—no. Not her home. Duh. She went to Chet’s. She tried to shake off her mental slip. Chet worked until closing and didn’t get home until after that, walking through the door at ten o’clock.

Chloe was still up, and she set aside some paperwork she brought home. Chet came close to her, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. She tilted her head up for it. “How did it go?”

“Fine. I made it. I didn’t even try to fire anyone who didn’t deserve it. So a win. Go me.”

He smiled as he flopped down near her and stretched his legs out.

“Your mom was undeniably cool towards me. She say anything about me recently?”

“Yeah.”

Chloe squinted at him. He had his hand on her leg and rubbed it but kept his face forward. “And? What? What did she say?”

He peeked her way. “What she told me, Chloe, was confidential with the unspoken assumption that I wouldn’t repeat it to you. She has no idea that you’ve been practically living with me. So I’m not going to tell you.”

“She’s mad at what I did to Tara. How I acted.”

He stayed silent.

In a huff, she slid down. “Well, my mother left town to escape my dad along with me and Ebony, of course. She didn’t even tell me. But my dad couldn’t turn off the TV for even five minutes to talk to me. Their place is falling apart. And so are they.”

“You knew that.”

She turned on her side, stretching her legs on his lap and tucking the pillow further under her head. “Yes. It’s just hard.”

He patted her leg. “This whole thing is hard.”

Tears leaked from her eyes. “What if I don’t have the strength to do this? Or face this? Or handle this?”

“Then you would just have to rely on me.”

She shut her eyes, sucking in a breath, knowing he didn’t need or require an answer or her eager reassurance. She nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to articulate more.

Chloe returned to work. It was a drawn-out battle each day that clashed inside her brain and heart and body. She coaxed her body to get up off the couch or bed she was lying on, and dress decently enough to face the public and show up for work. She didn’t just flirt with depression, it fell on her with the impact of an anvil. She could barely breathe under so much pressure. She understood why but that didn’t make dealing with it any easier.

For Chloe, the only thing that helped was Chet. At home. And at work. She drew a sense of clarity from his penetrating gazes and directness. His presence reminded her to keep functioning. It gave her the strength to refuse to allow her depression to dictate her reaction to others. Several times, he came into her office, shut the door and took her into his arms. Sometimes, she quickly burst into tears. At others, he would quietly tell her to go home. That probably happened more often than her crying at work. At least someone was aware of who she was and understood how she tended to react and feel.

Without Chet, she would not have been where she was. On most days, she could at least remain upright for a few hours.

****

“Would you come to dinner with me?”

Chet glanced up at her when Chloe interrupted him. He finished the brush stroke, trying to capture the diverse colors of green on the canvas. He was painting the trees that were clinging to the mountain. “Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

“No. Eating dinner with my parents.”

He turned fully around on the stool he sat on, dropping his feet flat on the floor. “What? As… Why… What do you mean?”

She flopped down on the couch. He was used to her presence. It was expected now. Almost normal. No, totally normal. It was a little strange at first. He wasn’t used to another person in his living space or taking up his time and energy and making him talk and interact at all times, even when he didn’t feel like it. But he was getting used to it now and almost found it normal. Reassuring even.

“I can’t get my parents’ attention. I don’t know how they’re doing. I was thinking we should have dinner. I stopped by to see my dad again and it was so sad. Lonely. Uncomfortable. Awkward. I can’t go there alone. So I got to thinking, and the only thing that feels tolerable is if you went there with me.”

“Me?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn’t usually asked to make situations easier, especially social ones. “Um. Are you sure? You want them to know about us and this?”

“I think I could use your presence there. I don’t care if they know.” She smiled. “Maybe it’ll shock them out of their total apathy towards me.”

He nodded. “Just let me know when.”

She set it up for two days later when her mother was back in town. They drove together to her parents’ house. Chloe was quiet, which was more often how she was of late. Though she rarely used to be, at least that was his experience with her. After hours and hours at her café, he had pretty strong firsthand knowledge.

She didn’t bother to knock, but walked right in. “Mom? Dad? We’re here.”

Did she prepare them for him? Probably not, if her mother’s expression were any indication. She scrunched up her face. “We?” She stared at Chet and his face must have registered with her because her red-rimmed eyes grew bigger. “The busboy? Why is he here?”

“Mom. Don’t be so rude. This is Chet. We’re dating now.” She glanced at him, wondering what she wanted out of him. He nodded. Sure. She practically lived at his place. So what else could one call it? But judging by her mother’s surprise, maybe she wasn’t sure what he’d say to that.

Her mother stared at him, her gaze drifting up and then down, taking in his appearance. He wasn’t the typical man for Chloe. But her mom shrugged and entered the kitchen.

“Mom? Didn’t you set the table?” Chloe asked, following her. Chet stayed back, retreating to sit on the couch. Minutes later, her dad came in from an adjoining room, wearing flannel pajama pants and an unmatched flannel shirt, haphazardly buttoned over a t-shirt. Chloe turned at his presence and walked toward him, touching his shoulders with her hands and leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Dad?” she said, and her tone was gentle. “Didn’t Mom tell you I was bringing someone to dinner?”

“Oh.” He tipped his head. “Maybe…”

She frowned. “Dad? Are you wearing the same clothes from Monday?”

He frowned too, glancing down at himself. He blew air out of his mouth. “Boy. I don’t think it’s been that long. But maybe.”

Chloe glanced back at him, twisting her mouth up. She obviously didn’t like her dad’s answer. Chet got onto his feet and stepped forward. She took the cue to introduce him. “Dad. Do you remember Chet? He works for the café?”

Her dad frowned before he nodded. “Dishwasher? Right?”

“Yeah. Among other things.” Everyone had a different title for him. He nodded again and that was it. No curious looks. He backed up and flopped down in the recliner behind him. Chloe bit her lip and stared at him, her eyes nearly popping out. She shook her head and turned to Chet. “There’s nothing. No food prepared. No food in the house. They didn’t even try. They knew we were coming—”

He squeezed her hand, well aware of her concerns. “How about if we order in some pizza? Make it casual?”

She sniffed and nodded, but her expression showed her devastation. “Should we order some pizza?” she asked, louder now.

Her mom sank into another side chair. “Sure. That sounds good.” She was munching on a bag of potato chips. Chloe frowned and pulled her phone out to call and order the pizza. The TV was on, thank goodness, and no conversation flowed. There was no interest in Chloe or any discussion. The evening news played on and no one commented on it. Chet watched, but he could see Chloe’s disappointment. She didn’t understand this. When the doorbell rang, he got to his feet, waving her off. He paid for the pizza and brought them to the kitchen counter. There were no clean dishes. She shook her head as she searched cabinets. Neither parent even glanced up from the TV. “There are no clean dishes,” she muttered as she stared at the full sink and full dishwasher. She sighed, starting the dishwasher. He grabbed paper towels and shrugged. It would get the job done. However, it wasn’t enough or okay for Chloe, which she indicated by the way she bit her lip, before tears started to fill her eyes.

But she shrugged it off. She took the pizza slices to her parents and then brought them some water, as there was nothing else to offer them.

She tried to engage them in light conversation. But nothing. She was quiet. They sat near each other, and ate their pizza in total silence but for the background noise of the TV. Finally, there was nothing left to do or pretend to do. Chloe washed all the dishes and put them away before she emptied the garbage. “I guess I’ll have to start coming here and doing this every few days. Kind of like you did for me all those weeks ago.”

“Now I don’t though. You’re managing,” he said as he finished wiping up the tile.

Her entire body wilted as she leaned on the counter. “I’m not. I’m not managing and I can’t handle this.” She waved her arms around the kitchen. “They don’t care about anything or anyone. Not me. Not each other. They’re both gone.”

“Depressed. But they might find their way out of it.”

“No time soon.”

“No,” he agreed, keeping his tone quiet. “No time soon.”

“I’ll need to be their caregiver, huh?”

“Yes. And I’ll be yours.” She turned towards him when he stepped closer and brought her small frame against his. He kissed the top of her head.

“I didn’t even know I needed you and now I don’t know how I’d survive this without you.”

“You don’t have to know anything.”

She nodded, but her unhappiness with her parents stayed on her face and the half tears created a tragic gleam in her eyes. She kissed each parent goodbye but they didn’t even glance up. She watched them as they stared vacantly at the TV. Zombies. The walking dead. It was eerie. They didn’t seem to notice anything that went on around them and they certainly didn’t care.

Chloe stared at them for a long while before she gently closed the front door. “Will they make it? Still be married next year? In five more years? What will happen to them? To me?”

He pulled her to his car. “No way to know any of that. Except what happens to you. That’s strictly up to you.”

She smiled at him, and her eyes glistened. “You don’t lie. You don’t give me a lecture on semantics or false pep talks. And somehow, your honesty works. I believe you when you say it’s up to me and I feel motivated not to be like them. It’s a surprise to me that I like your unapologetic view on things. Because it’s real. What you say is completely real.”  

“I try to be.”

She closed her eyes. “It’s hard to see my parents like that. And even harder to get used to them not being interested or worried about me anymore.” She put her elbow on the door’s armrest, staring out the window. “I miss that. Feeling like I have parents who love me. But I guess I’ll go back there this weekend and clean the house up.”

“I could mow their lawn. Their flowers need watering. Lots of weeds need pulling too.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure, if it needs to be done.”

She sucked in a breath. “That is actually what I could use right now.”

“Then consider it done.”

She shook her head. “You are not what I expected.”

He glanced her way for only a brief second, but long enough to flash a smile at her. “No kidding.”

She smiled right back. “No kidding. I don’t know how, but somehow it works. Your ways work for me.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes. It is.”

He let out a breath. Yeah, he wasn’t what she ever expected or thought she could count on. He understood that, even if he didn’t fully comprehend why she found it so surprising. She didn’t know why it was hard for her to see him as someone she could rely on and be with. But the cold, disinterested, and almost catatonic depression she observed in her parents did something to Chloe. It galvanized her and she started realizing how much she needed to take care of them, as they once cared for her.

Chloe and Chet spent all day Saturday working on the outside and inside of their house. Her parents just watched. They didn’t even wander over to offer their help or conversation. They barely raised an eyebrow or uttered a word of thanks. Even so, Chloe went back every few days with fresh meals and did some more housework. Each time it made her cry, but each time, she cried a little less.

****

One day, a few weeks after Chloe’s return, Chet was startled when his mother cornered him as he went outside to empty the garbage bins into the dumpster. She always spoke in Thai to him. It was easier for her and she missed speaking it fluently. There was no one else in her life who knew the language except Chet so they used it when talking together. As always, after years of training, Chet waited and let her do most of the talking.

“When did you start sleeping with her?”

He pursed his lips, concentrating hard on turning over the garbage can. “What are you talking about?”

“Chloe. Why are you sleeping with her?”

“I… what business is that of yours?”

“Business? Oh, I don’t know. Because she’s my boss, as well as yours.”

“She’s not going to let it affect anything.”

“So you say. Have you forgotten so soon that I already watched her fire someone who she didn’t like sleeping with someone else? What do you think she’ll do to us?”

“Nothing. You have nothing to do with it.”

She scoffed. “That girl… she’s not well, right now. No one can predict what she’ll do. She’s also vulnerable. How could you take advantage of that?”

“Because she needed someone.”

“You?”

“Turns out, yes.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

“Good thing it isn’t your idea. It’s mine. And she won’t do anything to you.”

His mom tapped her foot, drawing her mouth downwards. “Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“About you? About—”

“No.”

“Yet she doesn’t wonder—?”

“She likes me. People can like me, you know. It does happen.”

His mother flushed appropriately and he raised his eyebrows in challenge. She sighed. “I just think it’s a terrible formula. It’s a recipe for disaster for all involved. She’s still so sick and vulnerable after the terrible shock she’s had and we must work for her. She’s not thinking or feeling clearly.”

“No. She really isn’t.”

“Then why would you think she’s being clear about you?”

“Because it’s how she feels. Really, Mom, we don’t need to do this. We never have before.”

“But—but with our boss? While she is still grieving over her dead sister?”

“I know,” he said gently. “I got it.”

Dok stiffened and walked away. His guilt overcame him at using that against her. But he had secretly wanted Chloe for a long time, and now that he had a chance with her, he intended to take it.