“I don’t want you to feed me.”
Nate rolls his eyes and goes back to stirring. “Actually, you kind of do.”
“I do not. I did fine on my own before you and I will after you.”
Nate’s face twitches and his head tilts to the side. Annoyed. He lifts the spoon from the sauce, tapping it on the side of the pan twice before putting it in the little spoon holder in the middle of the stove. When he turns to face me, our eyes connect.
“Let me tell you something, Josie. I thought you’d gotten this by now, but we mis-communicated. Any woman I’m going to call mine will let me take care of her.”
My mouth falls open in shock but he holds up a finger to silence me.
“Now, if she wants to go to work, and that’s important to her, fine. I prefer she didn’t, but whatever. My woman has a bad day and I want to make her dinner to help her feel better? I don’t expect her to get on my case about trying to be a nice guy. She says thanks.”
A second of silence spills between us and I don’t comment, so Nate keeps talking.
“I mean you could pay me back later… In the bedroom. And that would be okay, but sometimes people do nice things for one another because they want to.”
“I’m not your woman,” I spit out.
Nate’s eyes widen. “Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not and I never will be. I won’t be anyone’s woman ever again. I’m taking care of myself.” The only person who won’t let me down in life is me. There’s no one else I can depend on and I won’t let my heart get hurt by another guy ever again.
Nate and I stand off as our eyes glare at one another, neither of us willing to give in.
He cracks first. “Fine, that’s the way you want it? To be alone?
I nod. Being alone has become my mantra. It’s not an easy one to give up. Why accept help now when I’ve done such a wonderful job of screwing everything up on my own? There’s no point in bringing Nate on my spiral downward. He still has a chance of a normal life and he should get to go out there and live it without all the added weight of my problems.
13
He dusts his hands off on the top of his pants and turns the oven burner to low. “Give the sauce another five minutes, top off the noodles, and stick it in the oven for twenty-five. I like to top it with cheese.”
“Where are you going?” I ask as he stomps past the kitchen table.
“I’m letting you take care of yourself. Good luck, Josie,” he says, looking back once before opening the apartment door and walking out.
The door bangs hard against the frame and Emma cries out in shock. I turn to where she sits in the living room, watching the whole scene as tears form in her eyes.
Great. I’m off to a wonderful start being my own woman.
“Give me just a minute, Emma.”Not listening, she continues yelling in the middle of the room because the television show I turned on to entertain her switched to something new. I don’t know what that child has against Pirates, but she does not like them.
The toaster pops and I reach behind me to grab two slices. They’re hot and burn the tips of my fingers. “Ouch,” I fumble with them, dropping one piece on the floor. “You asshole.”
The toast doesn’t seem offended at my choice of vocabulary as I drop it in the trash. I guess it’s off the menu.
The eggs in the pan on top of the stove crackle, and when I use the spatula to flip them over, most of them stick to the bottom of pan becoming a burnt brown crisp that will need to soak for days.
Why was this so easy yesterday morning and so hard today?
It’s a question I don’t want to answer. Today is different because it’s missing one of the key components. He was also missing from my bed last night. It’s a hard adjustment when you go from sleeping alone, to sleeping with someone wonderful, to sleeping alone. Not having Nate here doesn’t feel right or natural.
“It’s cereal for breakfast, Emma. Come on,” I try to coax her to the table while dropping the scorched pan in the sink. She doesn’t care at all.
I pour a bit of the sugary cereal I vowed I’d never feed my children if I had any into a bowl and top it off with milk, setting it in front of her highchair.
“Emma, come here. We need to eat.”
