I decide on a croppedturquoise tank top and high-waisted, frayed short-shorts. Nadia isn’t home when I leave. If I left a note, I wonder how long it would take her to read it. Days? A week? Who am I kidding—she would never even notice it.
I sigh and grab my bag, slipping on my shoes before going out the front door.
Before I can knock on William’s door, Adam throws it open, his face sweet and happy. “Hey! You made it!”
“Yes?” I give him a confused smile in return. “Aren’t I, like, ten minutes early, even?”
“Are you?” He glances at the silvery wall clock. “Oh yeah. Huh. Well, I’ve got the eggplant all fried up. But I need to build the thing and roast it in the oven for a few minutes.”
“I can help.”
Adam doesn’t want my help, I guess, because he shakes his head rather aggressively. “Go sit,” he says.
I blink. I’m just not used to anyone taking care of my food, and it feels awkward to not get in the kitchen and get my hands dirty. “Are you—”
“Sky. Sit.” Adam points at the sofa on his way back to the kitchen, and damned if I didn’t enjoy the hint of sharp in his demanding tone.
William’s in his chair in the living room, looking like he’s about to fall asleep. “William?” I ask. “You tired?”
“I’m eighty-four years old,” he responds without opening his eyes. “I’m always damned tired as all hell.”
“And grumpy as all hell, too,” I add.
William grunts in response, and then asks me a question I was not prepared for, especially from him. “You believe in ghosts?”
I blink, all of a sudden nervous that he might know the truth about me. About how I’d spent eight years wandering the World of the Living as, for all intents and purposes, a ghost, a ghost who specifically spent an inordinate amount of time in this very house. “Um.” Best to just be honest, I guess. “Yeah. I do.”
William grunts and reclines his chair even farther, so his gaze is on the ceiling. “Last night I saw my wife.”
“Oh?” I turn toward him. “What…I mean, did she say anything?”
“Not a thing. I walked in the bedroom, and she was there, sitting on the edge of the bed. Wearing that one purple nightgown…She smiled at me, I blinked, she was gone. Been trying to figure out if my mind is gone since.”
Ah. He wants reassurance, I imagine, especially since his doctor thinks he has some signs of dementia. The reminder of this feels like a little pang right into my gut. “I believe in ghosts, William. She was probably making sure you’re okay. Maybe double-checking that you weren’t living on Hungry-Man frozen dinners.”
William chuckles. “She did get on my case about all the salt in crap like that.” He takes a breath. “Well, you’re making sure I get something to eat that isn’t made of garbage. She’d like that.”
My heart feels a sharp sting, but not one of pain. I think this is William’s way of saying thank you. I didn’t bring him food for gratitude. But all the same, it’s touching to hear it. Enough to make my eyes get the slightest bit teary.
“All right,” Adam says, plates balanced on his arms. “It’s time. Hope you guys are hungry. I kind of made a lot.”
William and I approach as Adam sets the table and grabs us water bottles from the fridge. As I approach the table, Adam pulls out my chair for me, a big smile on his face. “Oh. Thanks,” I say, settling in.
When I look up, William is glancing between the both of us, his eyebrow raised. But luckily, I guess he’s too hungry to say anything about “us kids” again, because about a half second later, his mouth is entirely full.
“This looks so beautiful,” I tell Adam, because it really does. There are four breaded and fried eggplant slices overlapping around my plate. The sauce drizzles onto the plate, under the most perfectly crispy and gooey cheese. He even placed a garnish of fresh basil in the middle.
I can feel Adam’s eyes on me as I take the first bite, which makes me a little nervous. It’s a lot of pressure, trying a meal in front of the person who made it. What if I don’t pass the test on what a proper reaction is supposed to look like for them? But the food is so good, I don’t stop and consider what reaction to perform for Adam. Instead, I close my eyes and moan a little bit. “Wow. This really is your specialty,” I say after swallowing.
“Specialty,” William snorts. “If this is your specialty, why haven’t you ever made it for me before?”
“Uh, maybe because you told me you weren’t going to eat any of my, and I quote, ‘vegetarian shit’?”
William grunts in response, which confirms he’s definitely told Adam that before.
“Are you transitioning to vegetarianism?” I ask Adam, because I’ve seen him eat meat a time or two in the last two weeks.
Adam shakes his head. “When I first moved to the city, I was broke. I couldn’t afford meat. So I had to get creative. And ever since, I’ve always incorporated vegetarian meals. I guess they’re kind of comforting now.”
