Page 22 of Brew
I smile to myself, taking the containers out of the bags and begin serving each dish into the bowls. He ordered way too much food. There’s chicken, rice, noodles, some other meat dish with vegetables and then the spring rolls with dipping sauce. I never knew Brew could be so thoughtful. I guess I’m learning all kinds of things aboutmy bossthat I didn’t know.
I think back to his text…
What about you?
I shouldn’t read too much into it. He clearly didn’t mean anything by that. It’s likely he’s just making sure I didn’t think this would be a regular thing. Not that I expect it would be; he’s never bought us food before. But I can’t lie and say my heart doesn’t flutter just a little at the idea he thought about us.
We sit at the table, give our thanks, and dig in. Olive chats about the play and an upcoming sleepover at her bestie, Camille’s, house. I’m not a helicopter parent, but I also don’t like Olive staying over at a friend’s whose parents I don’t know well. Luckily I know Cami’s Mom, Indigo, Harlem’s ol’ lady, and they’re like two peas in a pod. I also know Indigo is strict and no nonsense, I trust her. Cami also sleeps over here as often as Olive stays at her place. After our ordeal leaving the compound, and me having to abandon my daughter for the greater good with her aunt, every time I have to be apart from Olive now, it gets me every single time. I battle with whether I did the right thing, knowing I would never, ever leave my child unless her life was in danger. Which it was, but guilt still gnaws away at me. I punishmyself day in, day out, because I know what that did to her, and I can never get that time back.
A million things run through my mind every day.
What if I hadn’t made it back?
What if the mafia had sent my family my body as payback?
I shudder at the idea.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“I’m thinking about taking ASL, there’s a new kid in our class who’s deaf,” Olive says, surprising me. “I thought it might be nice to learn some and communicate with him.”
I smile at my thoughtful child. I hope she stays like this forever. “That sounds like a great idea, honey.”
“Mrs. Jefferies said a bunch of us could learn during library time, if we wanted.”
“Well, I think that’s a very productive thing to do. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
She smiles, eating her food like she has hollow legs. My girl is only a teenager, and she’s already almost as tall as me.
“Slow down,” I add. “You’ll get indigestion.”
“Kinda nice of Brew to buy us dinner. How come he did that?”
I try not to choke on my tofu. Recovering quickly, I say, “He was just being a good boss because he knew we were out late.”
“Cami told me she overheard Harlem and her mom talking and H said Brew likes you and that’s why he acts kinda weird around you.” I do choke on my tofu this time, reaching for the water, I chug it down while Olive pats me on the back. “Sorry, Mom.”
I wave her off, coughing until my eyes are watering. “What on earth? He doesn’t act weird around me, he’s just quiet.” Oh, my goodness. Harlemthinksthat Brew likes me, or Brewdoeslike me? Why does that make my heart rate kick up ten thousand notches?
She shrugs. “Well, he lets you have all the time off you ask for, he gave you a job, didn’t he say he’s replacing your battery free of charge, then the food…”
“He’s just being nice, and it isn’t just him giving me time off and a job, it’s Haze, too. And you shouldn’t be listening to adult conversations,” I tell her sternly. “That’s how things get misconstrued.”
“It didn’t sound very misconstrued. H said Brew has a ‘major jones’ for Erica and that he hasn’t had a girlfriend in years because his other girlfriend died.”
I pause, my fork settling into the bowl. “A major jones?” I shake my head, that isn’t the point. “Please don’t ever repeat that about Brew to anyone, that’s sensitive information, and if he overheard it, that wouldn’t be very kind.”
“Mom, I wouldn’t do that. I was just telling you what I heard.”
My heart hurts when I think about his loss. Still, I’m not having this conversation with my daughter. “Brew is… prickly at times, but he has his reasons.”
“He had a pet pig once.”
I frown at her. “What?”
She nods gleefully, I might add, because she knows something I don’t. “He told me.”
