“How did you manage to clean and cook while I just showered?” The grandfather clock shows what I was afraid of. I took almost an hour in the shower. I don’t remember the last time I took one that long, but damn it, I needed it.
“It’s just soup. It needed to cook for a while, so I cleaned while it was on the stove. I folded your laundry, but I didn’t know what you used for detergent, so I didn’t put another load in.”
What did I do to deserve this man?
“Thank you. That’s all very kind.”
“Not a problem. My mother raised me well.” He winks, pointing at the soup. “Let me know how that is. It’s been a while since I made chicken noodle soup.” He disappears into the kitchen before returning with a plate of food. Mac and cheese and chicken tenders, my favorite comfort meal.
“Since I didn’t know if you liked soup or not, I also ordered you this. Liz swore by the power of mac and cheese with chicken tenders, so here.” He sets the plate in front of me, as I’m unable to do much other than stare at it.
“I can take it away. I know it’s not very nutri?—”
“Holden,” I interrupt. “This is my comfort meal.”
“Soup?” I shake my head, raising the plate he just brought into the air.
“Mac and cheese and chicken tenders. It’s what I eat when I feel down or happy or angry, really any big feelings. Bella’s too.”
He scoffs incredulously. What are the odds my favorite meal was also his sister’s? It feels so?—
“Serendipitous,” he interrupts my thoughts, finishing the sentence. “You and Liz have the same taste, that is.”
He takes a seat next to me, stealing a cracker adorning the tray where the soup is. "Do you believe in fate, Beauty?” He popsthe cracker in his mouth, so nonchalantly sitting on the couch, so comfortable in this space. I really like that. He feels like he belongs here already.
Do I believe in fate? The question of the century. Maybe yes or maybe no, but how do I explain that to him?
If I did, I could think that everything happens for a reason, that every small or big choice eventually has led me here, but I would also have to think that includes everything bad. That Nick’s fate was to die that day, to what? Have stronger laws and rules in place? To have better mental health support for our youth? No, that doesn’t seem fair.
If I don’t, on the other hand, then whatdo Ibelieve in? What is the purpose of everything then?
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“I don’t, usually. Because if I did, then I would have to believe what happened to my sister and mom was meant to be for whatever morbid reason.”
Is this a grief thing that all of those who have lost someone feel?
“But I think fate brought us together.” He places his feet on the couch, crossing them at the ankles. “If it wasn’t fate, then maybe it was my mom and sister. They knew we were meant to be together…and if they did?—”
“Then maybe Nick sent you too.”
We stare at each other, the heaviness of this moment filling the space between us, but there’s no time to explore anything else, because a groggy cry for mom comes from the back of the house.
Holden turns his head to where Vero is calling for me. “Do you want me to get her?”
I shake my head. “I got her. Would you put some ice in a bowl of soup for her?”
“Of course.”
“Hey, baby,” I whisper to Vero as she walks straight into my arms. My impatient little queen couldn’t wait for me to find her in her room; she had to come find me.
“I’m hungy, Mama.” I touch her forehead, and for the first time since Saturday, she doesn’t feel like the surface of the sun, and she wants to eat.
“That’s good. There’s soup and crackers,” I tell her as I walk us both into the living room.
“Hi, Holen!” she shouts, wiggling from my hold and running to him. That’s a new one.
“I guess you two bonded over pizza the other night, huh?”
