Page 111 of Knot Baked Out For This
"Same thing."
I work in focused silence, aware of her watching from the couch. The October wind tests my repairs as I go, trying to find weaknesses. But I'm thorough—always have been. If something's worth doing, it's worth doing right the first time.
"You're different when you work," she observes.
"Different how?"
"Intense. Focused. Like the rest of the world stops existing."
"It does." I smooth new caulk with practiced efficiency. "When I'm fixing something, that's all there is. The problem and the solution."
"Must be nice. Having things be that simple."
"Things are never simple. I just pretend they are until they cooperate."
She laughs again, softer this time. "Is that what you're doing with me? Pretending I'm simple until I cooperate?"
I turn to look at her, really look. She's curled on her couch in a way that should be casual but isn't, tension in her shoulders, fingers twisted in her sweater.
"You're not a problem to solve, Hazel."
"Then what am I?"
"Complicated. Complex. Worth the effort."
The words hang between us, heavier than they should be. She looks away first, and I return to the window, giving us both space to breathe.
When I finish, the seal is perfect. No more cold air, no more drafts. One less thing trying to break her down.
"Your tea's cold," she says, holding up my mug.
"I like it cold."
"Liar. You like it exactly one degree below scalding."
I stare at her. "How do you know that?"
"I pay attention too."
She makes fresh tea—some fancy blend that probably costs more than it should, but tastes like autumn decided to become a beverage. I sink into her couch, which is exactly as uncomfortable as it looks, but somehow perfect because she chose it.
Muffin immediately claims my lap, purring with the intensity of a small engine.
"Traitor," Hazel mutters at the cat.
"She knows quality when she sees it."
"She knows who has salmon treats."
"Strategic relationship building is a valid form of affection."
She curls up on the opposite end of the couch, chamomile steam rising from her mug. "This helps with anxiety," she says quietly. "The chamomile. Supposed to be calming."
"Is it working?"
"Not really."
"What would help?"
