Thirty-Four
It’s A Crime To Cut Off The Crust
Lake looked out the car window to see the complete opposite of her mother’s house. They were no longer in the suburbs, but instead a rundown part of the city. The only good thing about the street was it was semi-safe at night since most of the people who lived on it were the hardworking-class of the dirt poor.
“You aren’t going to leave without coming inside, are you?” She thought she would at least ask.
“What do you think?” He put the car in park and turned it off.
Lake took a deep breath. Figured.
Getting out of his car, she went up the stoop of the dirty-looking condo then pulled her keys out of her bag before putting them in the slot.
Before she could unlock the door, she turned to Vincent. “Don’t tell my dad about my mom. He doesn’t know anything, and it would kill him to find out.”
“Just get inside,” he hissed.
Figured that, too.
She turned the key and went inside the old condo, letting Vincent in behind her. Shutting the door, she was sure to bolt it before she flipped on the light switches to reveal the dingy place.
It was as clean as it could get for something so old, needing serious upgrading and repairs. The tiny kitchen held the tiny dinner table, which connected to the tiny living room that contained a loveseat and box TV. Their furniture was all mismatched and old along with their appliances, but to her it was home, and she felt safer there than anywhere else on the planet. The dirty, old, rundown place was her safe haven, and she loved every inch of it.
She didn’t want Vincent to see it, because then he would look at her the way everyone else did—like a piece of trailer trash. Something stupid in her actually cared about how he thought of her. And now he finally gets to see the real me.
Unable to look at his face yet, she went down the little hall and knocked on one of three doors, the one which led into her father’s bedroom. When he didn’t answer, she opened the door to find it empty.
Why isn’t he here?
“Maybe he’ll be home later,” she said, coming back into the living room and setting her bag down.
Vincent looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sure he will. Why don’t you come sit down, and I’ll fix you something to eat?”
She shook her head. “We just ate. I’m not hun—”
He stopped her, pulling off his jacket and tie then loosening his top buttons. “You didn’t eat shit, because you were worried about touching his fucking precious food. Now, sit the fuck down before you pass out.”
Her mouth dropped open before she shut it then scooted into the kitchen and sat at the creaky table. She watched Vincent look through the few cabinets and fridge, wondering if he even knew what anything was. She didn’t exactly think he spent much time in a kitchen.
“Is cereal okay?” he asked, pulling the milk out of the fridge.
She scrunched her nose. “Um, that’s old.”
Vincent checked the date to see if she was right then tossed it in the small trashcan. He grabbed a small packet of ramen, which was virtually the only thing left, and looked around the package for a date.
“I don’t think ramen can get old,” she told him.
“Really?” He looked over at her like he didn’t believe her.
“I mean, they make it for college students and poor people, so it can’t go bad because we can never throw food away.”
Vincent squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he mumbled to himself.
What? It’s sad but true.
Finding a small pot in the clean side of the sink, he filled it with water and put it on the stove. Then he grabbed the bag of bread and pulled out the last two slices, which were the crust ends of the loaf.
“Of course,” he said, tossing them back in the bag to throw away.
“Whoa, that’s like the best part! I just said we don’t throw food away. My dad would kill you for throwing that part away.” Does he even listen to anything I say?
Vincent stared at her as if she was from outer space. “This is literally crust, the part you cut off the sandwich. No one eats this part.”
“Maybe where you come from, but here, it’s a crime to cut off the crust. If no one eats it, why would they even put those two slices in? Or why don’t they sell crust-less bread if everyone cuts it off?” Lake raised her eyebrows, waiting for a reply.
I just blew his mind.
“Why the fuck is everything you’re saying true? What’s worse, I don’t know if I should be mad or sad about it.” He went to smother the last bit of peanut butter she had on the crust. “I mean, how in the hell is the two slices of complete crust the best part?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. It’s surprisingly delicious.”
Vincent actually smiled a little at the last part as he licked off a dab of peanut butter from his finger.
Lake found herself in awe of him cooking her food. She really liked watching him because it seemed as if he was human. She had always perceived him as a god. Sure, he still looked like one in her kitchen, but he was doing something normal for once.
She started smiling at the fact that he actually kind of knew what he was doing, and he was doing it for her. It was sweet. Which is really freaking weird.
She moved the mail and bills out of the way when he came to put her plate on the table. Picking up her crusty peanut butter sandwich, she started eating.
He looked in the fridge for something to drink. “You don’t have anything to drink?”
“There’s glasses in that cabinet, and there’s water that comes out of the sink.” She tried not to choke on her sandwich as she laughed at the last part.
“I don’t know why I even asked.”
When he set two glasses of water on the table, she held up her sandwich and smiled at him. “It’s really good.”
Vincent wrapped his hand around her wrist as he took a big bite out of it. “That is surprisingly delicious.” He managed to take one more small bite before she snatched her hand back.
“I told you,” she laughed at him.
When he sat down, smiling in front of her, her stomach did a somersault from happiness. She was certain she was supposed to like it, but it scared her instead. Lake didn’t want to like him; he was crazy and a terrible person. Right? She had never thought she would say it, but she actually preferred the evil Vincent. When he was evil, she didn’t want to freaking kiss him.
“Why are you being so nice?” It might have come out harsher than she intended.
“So you get mad at me for being mean, and now that I’m nice, you don’t like it?” he snapped at her.
Nope, nope. I like the nice one better. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m just not used to it.” She felt bad for saying it. “Thank you for making me the food.”
“You’re welcome.”
She was thankful the nice one had come back.
She was shocked when she actually ate all her food, unaware of the last time she had eaten a full meal and enjoyed every bite. Then again, her body was practically starved. At that point, anything besides John’s Chinese food would have tasted good.
When Lake drank the last bit of her water, Vincent put her dishes in the sink. “Good. Now we can fucking talk.”
Oh, God. She knew Nice Vincent was finally over. Nothing pretty was going to come out of the conversation he wanted to have.
“Why didn’t we talk while I ate, at least? That way, you could’ve left me alone already.”
Vincent flexed his jaw. “Because you don’t eat when you’re upset, and you would have only eaten a few bites. Do you even remember the last time you sat down for a fucking meal you actually ate?”
Shit, someone just save me…