“Gave me his past lover’s clothes? Yeah, I’m not wearing those.”
“What?” The look on Dylan’s face almost makes me smirk. Almost. “No. Ew. These were our mom’s clothes.”
The shift that takes place in Mara’s expression is both priceless and heartwarming. She sees the error in her accusations but also the gesture in my actions. She locks eyes with me and I can’t help the little pang in my heart at the sight. I don’t want this to be anything it isn’t. I’m just giving her clothes for the time she’s here. I expect her to leave them behind when she goes home after the snow melts. We gave away most of our parents’ things after they died, save a few of Mom’s things like her sewing machine that she made so many of our clothes on, or the rocking chair she kept in her room after Dylan and I were too old to rock to sleep. That now sits in Dylan’s room.
“You’re letting me wear your mom’s things?” She says in disbelief. “Thank you.” I nod my head in response. That’s the nicest she’s ever been. But I know it’ll be short lived.
“She left them here for family trips when we were younger. Our dad only used it as a hunting cabin the decade before he died so these are from when she was younger and a little thinner. They might still be a bit big for you but better than nothing.”
I walk out of the room without warning and thankfully both Dylan and Mara follow without me having to indicate for them to. I stalk downstairs to the sewing table I moved up here when we sold the house in town and open the lid to bring the machine out of its hiding place. I nestled the table beside the front door as a place to drop shit when we walk in like keys and stuff. But maybe it can be used properly now.
When I stick my hand out toward the machine, my question is clear: doyou know how to use this?
“I took home ec in school. I think I remember some of it, if you’re willing to let me take in some of her things, I think I can make them fit. I won’t cut anything, don’t worry.” She waves her hands in front of her as if that can ease my worry. But I wasn’t worried about it.
The wheels are turning in her head as she stares at the machine, I swear I can almost see them work. After another glance at me, Mara walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator to examine what’s inside. Dylan and I both watch her with curiosity.What the hell is she doing?
She takes some cheese out of the fridge and collects the bread from the counter before turning the oven on and moving the cast iron pan over the burner.
“I don’t know how to make much,” she confesses. “How does grilled cheese sound for lunch?”
Chapter Five
Mara-Present
Rivers and Roads-The Head And The Heart
I can’t believe he’s letting me wear his mother’s clothes. I don’t know how they died, but the way Dylan talks about her is like she was an angel to them, untouchable and perfect, precious. Must be nice to have been that close to your mom. Mine has been knee-deep in disassociation methods for as long as I can remember. Operating on the conveyor belt of small town high society.
Jason pulls a jar of tomato soup they canned off the shelf and dumps it into a pot next to the pan I made the sandwiches on. I’ve never worked with cast iron before, but when I almost put soap on it, he grabbed the skillet from me and showed me that it just needs a good scrub under warm water. Dylan made a point to tell me they need to be cleaned while they’re still hot.
That’s genius, it was so easy to clean. Why don’t more people use these?
We eat in silence for a bit, no one says anything about the generous gestures of the day, and no one acknowledges that Jason was nice to me or that I cooked when I said I wouldn’t.
I didn’t put much thought into it before I sprung into action. I just felt the weight of his kind offering and felt like I needed to return the gesture. The first thing that came to mind was to cook for him, even if it was just grilled cheese, one of two things I know how to make.
“So they didn’t teach you to cook in home ec but they taught you to sew?”Dylan finally breaks the silence, which appears to be his main job in this house.
“They certainly tried to,” I answer, “but I either burnt or undercooked everything.”
“Did you follow directions?”
“Ya know,” I rub my finger on my chin in contemplation, “maybe that’s where I went wrong.”
Jason snickers to himself adjacent to me at the table before spooning another mouthful of soup to his lips. Without him saying it, I know exactly what he’s thinking.Yeah, you have a hard time following directions, don’t you?
Amazing how much I can decipher from his mind without him having to say a word.
I shoot him a glare and point with my spoon. “Don’t say it.” Even though he obviously won’t say anything.
I’m taken aback by how natural this feels. Two hours ago I wanted to rip their heads off if it would get me the hell out of this cabin. And while I’d still like to go home to my skincare routine and clothes that fit me, I don’t want to rip their heads off right now.
Then it occurs to me: I don’t have any makeup. Then again, I didn’t need makeup for my reason for being on the mountain last night. But still, I would like to have some in the next four months, I’m sure.
Even if I’m not going anywhere and I’m only seeing the same two men for the foreseeable future, putting on makeup always makes me feel more prepared for the day, like putting on my helmet and grabbing my shield. It wasn’t about protection, it was about preparedness and self care.
“Oh no,” I blurt as another realization dawns on me. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?” I absolutely cannot go the next four months without brushing my teeth.
