Justice excitedly joins her with his Hot Wheels truck in hand to begin driving it all over the couch beside her. Josie reaches out and runs her hand over the curls of his brown hair while watching me and sipping her wine.
Moving around her kitchen, I find places to put up the standard pantry staples, while putting cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink, and spices in the cabinet above the stove. The cold items were split between the fridge and freezer depending on what they were. In a matter of minutes, I had everything put away while she finished her first glass.
Making my way to her, I bring the bottle, pouring her another glass as I sit beside her. The couch is soft as it seems to sink in around me sliding her slightly into me. Reaching out, I take her legs by the calf area and pull them onto my lap causing her to shift. Sliding the flip flop off, I begin to massage her feet.
“Dean, I don’t need a massage,” she begins and tries to pull away as I hold her foot firmly in my hands.
“Every mom can use a break and a foot massage. Isn’t that why pedicures are worth the money? The massage, not the toenail polish?”
She smiles before taking a drink of her wine, “you have a comeback for everything don’t you?” she asks me into the glass.
“Yeah, Jo, I do. Might as well get used to it.”
“While I’m getting used to things, per you. My name is Josie, not Jo.”
I smile, “Josie is cute. Josie is timid. You have a fire in your eyes. A strength in your features that tells me Josie was a little girl, but Jo, you’re a fiercely strong woman.”
She takes another drink studying me. “Sometimes you say the right things, Dean.”
I don’t reply but instead keep working the knots out of her feet. When she relaxes, I slide her sweatpants up to her knees. Then I move up massaging her calves and then back down to her feet.
She continues to sip wine. When she finishes the second glass, I pause the foot massage to lift the bottle to offer her more. She shakes her head before trying to shift and get up.
“Not yet,” I tell her.
She smiles softly. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna fall asleep. I have a kid to make dinner for and laundry to finish.”
“You like steak?”
She throws her head back, “you’re not making us dinner. I appreciate the help, Dean. It’s my responsibility to feed my son, not yours”
Alternating between both legs, I try to give her this moment to feel some relief from all the tension. I want to smile at her tenacity. It’s obvious she’s tired, but the independent power of this woman refuses to accept even the easiest of help.
“I already got a pack ready. Been marinating all day. I’m cooking two steaks and three corn on the cob regardless. No need in letting it go to waste.”
She sits up, “Dean, it’s called leftovers. It won’t go to waste.”
I shake my head, “got a transport. Leavin’ in the mornin’. You eating it, well, it’s doin’ me a favor. If you don’t, I’m gonna have to toss it in the trash in the morning.”
She shakes her head. “I have a feeling you will be bringing steak and corn over regardless of what I say.”
I laugh, “pretty much. I think that’s a great idea.”
She throws her head back on the couch, taking a deep breath, “okay, you win. My place or yours? I don’t exactly have a table, but I do have plates and utensils.”
Lifting her legs then gently placing them on the couch behind me as I stand to leave. “Thirty minutes, you and Justice come over, I’ll have it ready.”
She pauses making me think she might tell me no.
“Okay,” she says timidly.
Before she can change her mind, I give Justice a fist bump on the way out the door. I don’t know why I invited her over or why I even care if she relaxes, but I do. She seems overwhelmed, exhausted, and on edge. I won’t be here for the next week, but at least she got a little relief from her tension for a few minutes.
Glancing at my watch, I leave, noting I am about thirty minutes behind my usual dinner time. This is one moment where I wish I wasn’t committed to my schedule. I would have liked to sit there beside her for the rest of the evening, or as long as she would let me.
Moving around my house, I grab the marinating steaks from my fridge before heading out to my back deck to fire up the grill. I wasn’t lying to her. I did have this meal planned and I am leaving on a transport tomorrow. Only I left out I normally take the leftovers with me for lunch the next day on the road. Having her and Justice over, somehow, I know it will be worth giving up the second serving tomorrow.
Even if I can only manage to give her this one meal, I am happy to do it.
