The rest of the kitchen has appliances on top of the white tile countertops, alongside a giant stand-up mixer all girls want.Or, at least, my mom did. It was the first thing I bought for her when I had the money, after I continued adding things she wanted for her kitchen. This is exactly the feeling I get at Natalie's. Everything matches—green, gold, and cream, except the espresso coffee maker in the corner, one she catches me staring at.
“That’s my next big-girl purchase. Every few months, I save enough to buy one item for the kitchen that makes me feel good. My good friend calls those glimmers, you know, like the opposite of a trigger? I realized color, aesthetic things, and a matching space are all glimmers to me.”
“I like it. It suits you.”
The corner of her mouth lifts as her eyes sparkle. “If I could only get the girls to get diplomas and art in matching colors, I could stop twitching every time I look at the fridge.”
“I actually like it. It shows how much you care about them. I bet they make you so proud.”
“You have no idea.”
She eyes the diploma with her eldest’s name.Award for Grit, it reads. “Tell me about them.”
“I thought you had to leave.”
“I have a few minutes to hear you brag about your girls. You also said you had a drink for me.”
She hands me a cup with a paper straw. “Vero was born with a developmental delay. I don’t want to burden you with my trauma, but basically, she had some oxygen deprivation that led to motor, speech, and cognitive delays. She does several therapies every day at her preschool, and then sometimes in the afternoon. This one—” she touches a blue award “—was her graduation from full-time to part-time care. It has been such a relief to see her improving this much, so I want a reminder of how hard she’s worked, especially when I want to cast blame.”
“On whom?”
“Myself.”
“You—”
“I know,” she interrupts. “I know it’s not my fault, but there’s zero logic behind it. I just feel it.”
“You’re doing a great job. I can tell by the way you talk about them.”
“Thank you. It’s hard but worth it. I love being their mom.”
There’s a pause when she’s looking at the award before she continues. And this one—” she holds the Grit Award I was eyeing earlier “—she’s so good, Holden. She’s fourteen, but her soul is like twenty with the maturity of a fifty-year-old. She’s so cool.”
I can’t help the smile painted on my face at the way her eyes light up when she talks about them. “She’s the best older sister, friend, daughter, all of it. I hit the jackpot with her.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have them. What a beautiful, rich life I get to share with them, even if it is incomplete.”
I wish apologies would make it better or that there were words big enough, strong enough, to help ease her heart. Since there are none, I do the next best thing and squeeze her shoulder.
What I really want to do is hug her, but I’m not sure, so I don’t.
“Thank you for your help. You still owe me, though.”
“Oh?”
“I haven’t heard anything about Jerry again.“
I let out a sigh. “I know; I don’t even know what to think myself. Last week was a lot. Maybe I’ll have more to share after today.”
She waits, biting her lower lip and looking to the side. “If you want to chat, I’m off tomorrow, and I would love an update. Maybe it won’t be as hard if we’re not surrounded by people at the store.”
I don’t want to read too much into it. I want to take it for what it is. Natalie is offering friendship.
“That sounds good. Can I take you to breakfast?” I ask, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter as she rinses her cup in the sink.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can eat here.” She wipes her hands on a dishtowel, glancing over at me.
