Page 12 of Until Landon
“I was a full-grown adult. But in a way Hunter and I grew up together.”
It is said matter-of-factly. Like the rest of her story is known. I wonder what it is?
“What kind of a car did you get?”
“I didn’t get one. There’s no reason to hurry.” When she sees the look on our faces she chuckles. “I’m enjoying walking to work. You guys should try it.”
There is a one second pause before all three of us bust out laughing. Dad goes first.
“Oh yeah, that’s gonna happen!”
“Are you insane, woman?” I say.
She waves a hand at us. “Yeah, I don’t buy it either.” A finger points my way. “And I just met you ten hours ago.”
As it is being said, I feel a kind of center of the body solar plexus twinge. Like for the first time, I see her.What the friggin fuck?It evaporates as quickly as it began and like Biscuit being hit by the tail, I shake it off.
“Now sit. Breakfast is ready.”
We take our seats at the tiled counter. I need to fix that loose one on the edge. Is Dad flashing back like I am? The last woman who served us breakfast here was Mom. Before the cancer. There was laughter and an ease of conversation that day, just like now. Easy like Sunday morning.
“This is nice of you, Kim. Landon and I eat like savages most of the time he’s here.”
“You eat like a savage. Don’t bring me into it.”
She chuckles at our teasing and scoops big spoonfuls of scrambled eggs with onions and mushrooms onto our plates. Where did that daisy in the water glass come from? Don’t think it was Dad. He would cut a flower for Mom on Sundays and have it on the table or counter. It was their thing. I don’t see it happening now. I need to know.
“Nice flower,” is all I say, hoping someone will spill the story.
“It was laying on the porch when I went outside with the dogs. Must have dropped off from the pot. Or maybe it was blown there. I couldn’t let it go to waste.”
Okay. Odd though.
“Where’syourplate?” I ask.
“I’ll get it. You both want bacon, right? And here’s some toast.”
Everything looks good. My hunger talks and I take a bite of eggs and one of bacon, before buttering the sourdough. All tasty.
Kim grabs another plate and serves herself lumberjack portions.
“Got a hollow leg?” Dad says amused.
She doesn’t take a seat but starts eating where she stands.
“Yes. I love to eat. No, really I do.”
She does a little dance and laughs at herself, enjoying the fact of the matter. It almost sounds like music.
Hmm. This is what the word charming means. Dad thinks so too, because he unconsciously grins as he watches. When our eyes meet one lifted much too bushy white eyebrow sends me his message.
Shut up, you old fart. I see it.
The grandfather clock bongs its ten am message. Kim starts eating faster.
“I have to be back by eleven-thirty. Hunter is driving home from college today. I’m going to call an Uber.”
“Hell no you aren’t,” Dad says. “Landon will take you.”
