Chapter 18.

  Mirthful

  “So, Casey, how did you meet my Brooklyn?” The question rings out like a dueling gunshot at high noon

  “Well it’s kind of a funny story. I’m a regur at her particur CrunchBucks, and she shops at The Folded Corner, where I work. At some point we just ended up as friends, visiting each other at work for coffee or books or whatever. I know Tara too, but she doesn’t really visit me that much.” She fires back without missing a beat.

  Checking to see who bleeds first, my eyes bounce back and forth between the two cowgirls while my dinner steams under my chin.

  The ghost of cold wood resonates up my arm in a way that’s not quite there. Salt and pepper shakers clink together while mom aligns them repeatedly during her conversation.

  A deep smile grows on moms face “you know Tara too? She’s such a nice girl. Brooke never updates me on her anymore.” Her words slice the tension like a knife through a sail.

  “Her grandma is dying.” The words fall out of me while I watch the two of them.

  With one final clink, shakers go still in my moms grasp.

  Condensation drips down my untouched gss like temptation incarnate. Dry tongue taps against dry lips as my muscles come back under control.

  “I only found out today…the pneumonia is gone but it took a lot out of her.”

  Scrapes fill the silence as I test the weight of my fork. Manageable. Asparagus wobbles on its way to my mouth, garlic dominates any other fvor that may have existed before.

  “That’s awful. How is Tara doing?”

  “She’s Tara.”

  “Right”

  Sighing into her meal, Casey tries to keep the news from affecting her dinner as best she can. The way her hand squeezes at her thigh is a dead giveaway that it already has.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for her. Please.” Mom adds firmly

  Her hand unclenches, freeing the salt and pepper shakers from their inquisitive prison. Quiet sounds of chewing and sipping fills my consciousness like white noise, tension eases from my neck.

  Overpowering garlic gives way to freshness as my senses realign with reality. Onions peek through the more visible ingredients with a pleasant sweetness.

  “Dinner is very good, thank you mom.”

  “Thank you, miss Brooke’s mom.”

  “Please, call me Mrs.Sincir or Rachael.”

  Excitement pours off of Casey. A small squeak, maybe a whimper, chirps across the table. The physical effort of holding herself back becomes a tangible feeling alongside the heat from the meal and the awkwardness of my panic attack.

  Cold bites against my lips, the arrival of water provides a level of relief I never thought possible. I set the now empty gss back on the table, ice rattles against the sides. It’s empty just for a moment before mom is reaching for the pitcher.

  “I can pour my own water.”

  Words into the world of no ears.

  “So, Casey. What do you do at the book store?”

  Chewing increases speed followed by a quick spsh of water and a hard swallow “I do pretty much all of it. Ordering books, organizing the store yout, event pnning like book signings and stuff. I’m not a manager officially but I pretty much keep the store open and smooth.”

  Warm fuzziness fills my chest and throat hearing her talk. Pride and competence, that’s Casey.

  “I imagine you read quite a bit as well?”

  “Yes ma’am I adore reading!”

  “That’s good to hear, I think reading makes for a better mind and person. Were you the one that suggested that Gearbreakers book to Brooke?”

  There it is.

  I mentally prepare for the thudding in my chest, it never comes. I solidify my grip on the fork, it doesn’t slip. No fear?

  “No ma’am. She was actually just in the book store one day walking around and found it at random. Get this, it was in a pile of books. Someone had made a huge mess and Brooke went through and stacked em all up neatly and picked that one out of the pile. Isn’t that such a nice thing? If people were that considerate about books I’d be out of a job by the weekend.”

  Water drips down my gss as I draw a smiley face with my pinky finger. Pushing off the table, my chair scrapes against the floor behind me as I stand. Loose silverware ctters and slips across my pte as I walk to the sink and set my dish into the steel basin.

  “Mrs.Sincir, you mentioned that you had read the book too, right? What was your favorite part?”

  The firm click of a fork nding on the tablecloth cuts through the running water as I process the question.

  “Well, I quite liked the retionship of all the main cast, they really felt like they had a history and really fought for one another. Especially between the two sisters and the one sister and her girlfriend, it felt real if only a tiny bit rushed.”

  Stop the presses what?

  With a sp I turn off the sink and return to my seat at the table. Empty space in front of me, I resort to fidgeting with the dangling tablecloth while trying to figure out what is happening in my moms head.

  “You liked the romance?” My words stumble over themselves, I’m not sure I even said them front to back or back to front.

  “Yeah, for the most part. It felt a little rushed and too ‘love at first sight’ for me, but it was cute. I just wish it weren’t such a violent story.”

  “But-“ the word hangs in the air while I try to formute a question I thought I had loaded. Bnk.

  Casey hums beside me “I thought the love at first sight thing fit the story. To me it read as ‘we are all expected to die one way or another, so we form connections quicker as a result’ if that makes sense.”

  Stonelike features soften into an interested grin on moms face.

  “That’s an interesting perspective, I hadn’t thought about the impact of looming death on the psyche of those kids.”

  Casey’s eyes roam around the room, stopping on each psalm or carving of a crucifix, her gears are turning. She hesitates only for a moment before speaking her mind.

  “Stop me if I’m being rude, but I made an assumption about you and I’m not sure I was correct. I saw all this church stuff and assumed you’d be a little less than accepting of that kind of literature. That really opens my eyes to my own biases.”

  How is she so fucking positive even with this.

  An expression of offense almost forms on moms face for a fraction of a second before her eyes turn to look at her own kitchen decor.

  “That’s very mature of you, Casey,” Her teeth scrape against her lower lip as she spins her water gss on the table. “For a long time I-“ her eyes flick to me for just a second before returning to an unspecific spot on the wall “for a long time I held some beliefs I’m not quite proud of, but I’ve grown since then. So, while your initial assumptions were correct at some point, they no longer are.”

  Casey’s fork lingers in her mouth, savoring one st bite of her casserole. Evening light hits her dark brown hair, deepening the color and texture before my eyes. I reach into my gss, fishing out the only distraction within reach. One solid crunch audibly obliterates the innocent ice cube, cooling the thoughts in my mind.

  Elbows nd softly on the table, mom hunches over the table with a conspiratorial look in her eye. Nerves bunch and catch on each other in my back, unable to prepare myself for whatever salvo mom is about to unch next.

  “Are you two…” her voice trails off.

  She knows what she’s asking. I know what she’s asking. Casey knows what she’s asking. I don’t want to fucking be here.

  Rising to my feet my chair shoots out from behind me. My hands snap out like whips, grabbing each pte left abandoned on the table. I stomp to the kitchen with dull sps in thanks to the absence of my boots.

  “Is she like this when she’s not around me too?”

  “Yeah pretty much.”

  “I can hear you!” I shout from the sink as I rinse their ptes

  “I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to ‘bug’”

  Sponge suddenly heavy in my hand, I freeze. Uncontrolled giggles ring out from the table. Giggles aligned against me. Giggles that know. Giggles that see me.