“It’s lasagna.”
“It’s our morals baked in a noodle dish.”
“Clare,” he sighs with a big dramatic gesture, “everyone is okay if you eat the lasagna. None of the kids will hold it against you.”
When I don’t make a move toward the plate Drew loses his cool and stands up. “Eat it. I’ll tell him I tried to give it to you, but you threw it in the trash.”
He stares at me not moving a muscle while waiting to see if I’ll take the bait.
Damn him it works.
“Fine. Give me the food.” I’m so very hungry.
Using the fork, I tear into the lasagna and shove the first bite in my mouth. A cornucopia of flavors bursts over my tongue. It’s possibly the best lasagna I’ve tasted in my entire life. The cheese has melted to a perfect consistency and the noodles are tender yet not overdone. I moan when the fork makes contact with the second bite and my stomach begs for more.
“Good. Stuff your face and then I can talk to you without you talking back.”
I stop chewing, but my mouth is loaded full of lasagna. Even though I give Drew the side-eye, I continue eating. I’ve started now. I can’t let it go to waste.
He gets right to the point. “Do you think you’re angry at Grant because you’re scared?”
“What? No,” I shout the words around the bite of food I’m still chewing and force down the swallow. “What would I be scared of?”
Drew motions to try the garlic bread. “Do you need a list?”
“A list! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I bite off a hunk of bread from one of the two pieces on the plate.
“Well there’s your abandonment issues.”
“I do not have abandonment issues,” I sputter and swallow.
Drew rolls his eyes. “I’m not done. There’s also your issues with men and abandonment. That’s separate over the regular abandonment issues. Your problem with rich people.” He holds up a third finger.
“Stop saying abandonment and I don’t have a problem with rich people.” I defend myself and then shove in another bite of lasagna. He’s wrong about the rich people part. I like Aspen and the other RDA girls, and they’re the richest people I’ve met.
“No, you’re fine with rich people as long as they’re donating back to your cause or self-hating in one way or another. Otherwise you don’t give them the time of day.”
His words sting, but largely because some of them are true. At least in part.
“What Grant did was dirty and horrible and wrong.” I put down the plate no longer interested in the food.
Drew takes a place beside me on my bed, the mattress sinking until I grab the plate of lasagna so it doesn’t spill. “You and I both know sometimes life sucks. It’s an unfair menstrual bitch, but we need the rent money. Grant might be many things, but we know he’s not a serial killer. He’s clean, agreed to the rules, and he paid in advance. Anyone else and we’d be sacrificing a goat to get him.”
“That advance rent money is profit from laying off one hundred of our neighbors.”
Drew shrugs. “So he’s an asshole. You can’t save every single person, Clare. You’ll go crazy trying. Maybe if you work with him, get him to volunteer more, you can help him make better choices next time.”
“I’m not getting back together with Grant.” Bread flakes on my comforter when I take another bite of garlic bread.
“Hell no. Don’t get back with him. You two are a crazy pair. You need someone who can keep you in line.”
My face scrunches up as I stop chewing to give him a nasty look.
“I’m saying sew up the vagina. Don’t let him back into your happy place.”
“Ewwwww. Okay, stop. Just stop.” I never ever want to hear the word vagina come from his mouth again.
Drew laughs and pushes me on the shoulder standing from my bed. “Don’t you feel better now that you’ve eaten carbs?”
“Whatever.” I refuse to admit any fault in this situation. “Ice cream for dessert would help even more.”
Grabbing my now empty plate Drew stops by the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”
