***
I tried to shake the awkwardness and act like nothing happened. It had been just an embarrassing incident, after all.
I couldn’t help roaming aimlessly through the kitchen cabinets, trying to look busy.
“Hey,” she said, out of nowhere.
“Wow, you’re quiet. Like a cat.”
She smiled, looking down coyly. “Just like you yesterday.”
“True.”
I was avoiding to look directly at her and I had the feeling she was doing the same thing. I stole a glance and caught the sunlight dancing in her dark hair, red sparkles projected like an aura around her head. I swallowed hard and looked away a split second too late. She had caught me staring at her, like a creep.
I cleared my voice, to dispel the awkward silence. I was desperate to say something, but nothing made sense in my head. It was like my mind had stopped working right.
“Coffee?” I finally asked.
“Sure.”
I grabbed the pot and tipped it over her cup, but nothing came out.
“Oh, sorry, no coffee left.”
How can you not notice the pot was empty? Especially since it was made of clear glass.
“I should apologize for my stupidity,” I thought, but instead I just stood there, holding the empty pot pathetically. It was like, suddenly, normal things like breathing or moving my arms were complicated processes that required great focus.
“I’ll make some,” she said and took the pot.
“No, allow me.”
She stepped back, wide eyed. I was freaking her out. “Good job, moron.”
“Sorry?”
“Did I say that out loud?”
She giggled and nodded.
“Jesus, I am a moron,” I admitted, smiling. Some of the ice had been broken. “Can I take a look at your hand? I need to change the bandages.”
As the coffee machine did its thing, I grabbed the first aid kit and sat next to Eva. Her hand was soft; I couldn’t help but think she must’ve smelled amazing.
The creepiness of the thought made me frown instinctively.
“What is it? Is there something wrong with the cut?”
“No, no. I… no, everything is fine. I’m just going to change the gauze and you’ll be fine.”
I didn’t dare to look at her as I half expected her to be smirking at my clumsiness.
Once the procedure done, I poured us both coffee and spiked mine with scotch. Anything to take the edge off whatever was happening inside my head.
“How’s your forearm?” she asked. At first, I didn’t understand what she meant.
“Oh, the broken bone. It’s fine. Healed. Just need some exercise. Recovery.” Why couldn’t I string a properly flowing sentence?
She nodded. I could see she was trying to fight the awkward silence just like me. Maybe I should put some more effort into it.
“Look, I’m sorry for earlier. I… You were talking in your sleep, but I didn’t know. I mean, I thought you were awake or something.”
“And you thought that the best course of action was to barge into my room?”
“I knocked!” I defended myself. She was trying hard not to laugh. It didn't work for long. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t delay the inevitable.
Her sparkling laughter broke whatever was left of the initial ice and infected me with a smile.
“I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to do.”
“It’s alright. I will assume you meant well.”
I knew she meant it as a joke, but her words reminded me of her mumblings. Who was she apologizing in the sleep?
“Are you in the habit of eating breakfast?” she asked, interrupting my thinking.
“Yes, most of the time.”
“How do you feel about scrambled eggs?”
“I can make scrambled eggs.”
“No, I meant… I was going to make them.”
“Allow me.”
And she did. I left her sitting on the tall kitchen chair and went straight to the fridge. After scrutinizing its scarce contents, I decided on a simple breakfast of eggs and bacon. Then some chive caught my eye. Perfect!
I chopped, stirred, beat, fended for myself against hot grease droplets, then she giggled again. I lost coordination over most of my body.
“He cooks, he’s handsome, he’s a doctor, aaaand he loves kids! Please put your hands together for our next ‘Bachelorette’ contestant, David Morris.”
“Shut up!”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of praise.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
She smiled bitterly. “I am not making a difference in anyone’s life. Unlike you, saving that kid.”
I frowned, my telltale sign something was wrong. If only she knew.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. What do you mean?”
“You did a little frown. I’m beginning to think it’s some sort of a tale.”
“Perceptive.”
“Come on, spill it.”
I looked straight into her eyes. She looked amused, but not mocking. She tilted her head to one side and smiled invitingly. God, she was so pretty!
“What am I thinking?” I scolded myself.
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just thought something was upsetting you.”
I felt guilty for disappointing her. But how could I tell her about how cruel I really was? She would hate me.
“It’s nothing, really.”
“I think it’s something. Judging by the way you’re acting, it has to be something. Or you’re just a really weird person.”
I took a deep breath, turned to the stove so I didn’t have to face her and started talking.
“I didn’t save anyone. I just reported the abuse.”
It was hard to say it out loud. But I felt compelled to offer her the truth; I didn’t understand why, but it felt right, despite being strangely difficult.
“That’s more than many other abused kids get. You saved that boy.”
She was saying exactly what she was supposed to say. She was talking the same way everyone talked. Before they knew the whole story.
My heart was racing as I pushed myself to tell her everything.
“I loved that kid. There was never any conclusive sign of abuse until I found those bruises. When the Child Services came to take him, he cried. He… he wanted to stay with me.”
I paused, letting her understand the whole picture, with its unbelievable cruelty.
“I refused to become his foster parent. They asked, but I declined.” I didn’t know why but I needed to say it as I felt it. Harsh, and unfair.
“It was the right decision.”
My eyebrows shot up by and I almost dropped the wooden spatula from the shock of her words.
“What?”
“I said it was the right thing to do. You’re not prepared to be a parent. You can’t be, your schedule must be crazy. I know mine is, and I am not a resident doctor. Besides, he is an abused child. He is better off with someone experienced in that sort of thing. You did your job.”
“I… Are you sure?”
“I don’t understand you. Of course I’m sure. I don’t like talking out of my ass.”
“God, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”
“The part about me not talking out of my ass?”
I shot her a confused look, then we both burst into laughter.
“No, but everyone, my colleagues, my friends, all of them hated me after that. And I feel guilty.”
“I don’t know about your colleagues, but I would suggest you find better friends. It’s selfish to ask such a thing of you. And, if you look past the sentimental side of things, you see that you did what was best for the child. Even with the price of tension at work, conflicts and, I dare say, self hate. What more can you ask?”
“To be honest, I censored my own thoughts about this. It felt wrong to say that I did the right thing, you know?”
She nodded and her smile could’ve stopped the rain and brought the sun in my darkest days. I allowed myself a second of picturing her lips on mine.
“About that food…”
“Coming right up, Ma’am.”
I set the plate in front of her and watched her eat before diving in myself. I felt satisfied knowing she was eating, knowing I was taking care of her. I blushed, acknowledging my thoughts and their idiocy. Maybe I needed some distance from her.
“Care for some laps? I mean, you can sunbathe. Don’t swim until your cut is healed.”
So much for distance. My brain said one thing, but my mouth acted on impulse.
“I… OK. I can keep you company, I guess.”
Was it just me or there was a shadow crossing her face?
She moved the plates into the sink, assured me she’ll be with me as soon as she finished washing them and insisted I should go ahead without her.
I found the request strange, but complied. I had made a spectacle of myself enough for one morning.
It took her several minutes to come. She sat on the deck, dangling her feet in the water, probably trying to look less awkward in her new clothes.
She had changed out of her loose t-shirt and into a knee length dress with long sleeves.
It was a dark blue dress, opaque, that didn’t let light pass through. You would’ve thought that a thin sundress was more appropriate; even the shorts and white t-shirt she was wearing earlier seemed like a better choice.
I refrained from questioning her clothing choice directly but she felt the need to explain herself when I swam close.
“I don’t really like, um… sunbathing. My skin is sensitive. I know it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird. Nobody is making you do anything. But I think you need some water.”
I gave her just a second of confusion before splashing as much water her way as I could from my position.
She yelped and jumped right up.
“You jerk!” she yelled. I thought I had made a big mistake and was just about to apologize when she unscrewed the cap off her grape juice bottle and poured it right on to of my head.
Before I could realize what was happening, she was already running away, laughing out loud.
“OK. You wanna play it like that?”
I was pretty confident it would be a short chase, but I was wrong. She was surprisingly fast and used all the tricks in the book to prevent me from catching her.
Sooner than I expected I was panting.
“Stop! I can’t… You win,” I managed to say between heavy breathing. “You’re good, girl. You’re good.”
“You admit defeat, mortal?”
“Yes. I admit I am defeated. You can approach safely.”
She considered my words for a second, then walked my way. My plan was working perfectly.
When she got within reach, I leaped and tackled her to the ground, making sure to land under her. I didn’t want to hurt her and realized midair my weight could’ve been too much for her.
After an awkward twist and a series of grunts from me when my back hit the ground, I realized she had moaned in pain.
With a speed only instinct could’ve given her, she pulled herself off me and curled into a ball of pain.
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you alright?”
“I’m alright. I’m fine.” As fast as she had succumbed to the pain, she stood up and smiled. “Gotcha!”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, silly. I landed on you, I’m not hurt.”
My first instinct was not to believe her, but her smile looked honest; it confused me.
Before I had the chance to decide how I felt about the incident, I heard a car on the driveway.
“Mom’s home!” Eva exclaimed and left me there, on the ground, still undecided.
I followed her, hugged her mother and took the grocery bags from my father. I wasn’t in the most talkative mood.
“What are you wearing, honey? It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t you put on your sundress?” her mother said.
“I… forgot to pack it,” Eva mumbled.
I searched for her eyes, but she was looking down. So, she was lying!
“I have one you can borrow. Come on.”
Her mother took Eva’s hand and walked her into the house. I watched them, interested in Eva’s reaction. She looked distressed; there was no better word for it.
“What’s up, son?”
“She said she doesn’t like sunbathing,” I blurted out.
“Who? Eva? Nonsense, she loves it. Her mother said that she used to cry whenever they had to come back from the beach, when she was little.”
“Are you sure?”
“Come on, son. These groceries aren’t going to carry themselves.”