Page 75 of The Fix-Up

P.S. Maybe I could start without you.

Gil—

You should just eat dinner with Oliver and me tomorrow. 5:30p.m.

Don’t be late or all the pork chops will be gone.

—Ellie

P.S. Do not go through his room without me!

I set the serving plate piled high with breaded pork chops in the center of the table. It joined the mashed potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts. I gestured to Gil and Oliver who were already seated. “Let’s eat.”

I typically brought home leftovers from the café for us to eat. Saved me from having to cook a full dinner, especially just forOliver and me. But I’d wanted to make Gil pork chops as a thank you for changing my oil and the other little things he’d done around the house. That was it, I swear. A home-cooked meal was an excellent way to endear him to me and this house. It was part of my plan. That’s all.

Oh, fine, maybe a teeny-tiny part of me wanted to impress him, to make something special just for him. Why? I don’t know. My brain was making weird decisions where Gil was involved lately. To say my feelings toward Gil were confusing would be an understatement.

Sunny tried to tell me that maybe I should see where these feelings led. Then we’d had a whole different discussion involving the other times in my life I let my feelings lead me. For example:

Impulsively running off to Los Angeles the day after high school graduation because it sounded exciting? CHECK.

Dating that one guy because I loved that he called me “Babe” for almost three months only to realize he called me that because he didn’t know my name? CHECK.

Letting my drummer boyfriend move in after the first date because I was pretty sure it was love at first sight only to watch him move out after he knocked me up? DOUBLE CHECK.

My feelings were not to be trusted. Period.

I slid in my seat and helped Oliver load his plate. He happily took a pork chop and the potatoes but wrinkled his nose at the Brussels sprouts. “Do I have to eat those?”

“Yes, sir. What’s the rule?”

He sighed with all the fervor of a six-year-old. “We have to eat one green thing for dinner.”

Yes, I did take that parenting tip fromSleepless in Seattle. Why reinvent the wheel?

“Bingo.” I spooned two on his plate.

Gil reached for the bowl of Brussels sprouts. “You made baby lettuce.”

Oliver giggled. “Those aren’t baby lettuces, silly.”

“They aren’t?” Frowning, Gil speared a sprout and held it up to eye level. “Nope, that’s a baby lettuce. We had these all the time when I was a kid. These, and baby trees.”

“Baby trees? We don’t eat baby trees.”

“Some people call it broccoli but that’s because they don’t know they’re secretly baby trees.” He nodded to the bowl of Brussels sprouts. “Just like those are baby lettuce in disguise. They’re like the Superman of vegetables.”

I covered my mouth to hide my smile.

Oliver’s eyes darted between the vegetable in question and Gil, looking more curious than suspicious.

Gil reached for Oliver’s plate. “If you aren’t going to eat yours…”

“No. Wait. I’ll eat them. See?” He picked one up (with his fingers, no less) and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed slowly, his face going through a myriad of expressions—disgust, resignation, victory. After swallowing, he grinned.

“Pretty good, huh?” Gil said.

To answer, Oliver shoved another one in his mouth.

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