Listen, Obey

33. Thirty-Third Lesson

The drive home was another silent affair, but this time that silence didn't hold the same kind of unease. Tilia napped in the backseat, apparently exhausted after our short visit to the city. Without her to entertain, Matthews and I weren't obligated to talk, so we didn't. I got the feeling that he remained quiet to give me some space in order to think about whatever it was I needed to think about. It was a nice gesture. Appreciated.

I was far from ready to come to terms with anything that had transpired these last few days, but I no longer feel the same putrid anger. I remained confused and afraid, but I acknowledged the fact that Matthews didn't do any of this to mess with me. He had no reason to. My lack of worth helped me with that realization. I was a burden, nothing else, but for some unknown reason he still wanted me around.

As the miles passed, I found my center. It was a volatile state of mind, but I wanted to hang onto it for as long as I could. Telling myself that I wasn't actually doing okay wouldn't help me either.

We arrive back at the house in time for lunch. I pondered to offer my help; however, I was well aware of my non-existent skills in the kitchen, and I didn't want to make a fool out of myself. Pancakes was one thing, but lunch an entire different deal altogether.

Tilia bounded up the stairs, still clutching that drawing to her chest. I could tell that she wanted to play on her own for a while, and that was fine with me. The only downside was that I didn't have anything to occupy my time with. While others might like that idea and enjoy their free time, it made me uneasy as I knew that my mind would start dancing around in circles again. If it did, I was afraid of the answers it might produce.

Matthews popped his head out of the kitchen doorway. "Want to help me out?"

I readily jumped up from the sofa at the suggestion, forgetting my poor skills for a moment. "Sure thing."

Matthews smiled. "Hy don't you prepare the salad" He pointed at groceries lined up on the counter. I sighed in relief. A salad should be easy enough.

"Don't blame me if I end up ruining it," I mumbled.

Matthews chuckled in response.

We kept our interaction going: a few words here and there about what we were doing. Matthews smiled a lot and after a while, I attempted to smile back. It felt good, natural.

It almost scared me how easy it was to be in his company.

Tilia came down to the kitchen just as I cut a watermelon in half.

"Oh, melon. May I have a piece, please?"

"Not before dinner, Tilia," Matthews replied. She pouted and folded her arms across her chest.

I rolled my eyes at Matthews strict policy and cut out a small cube which I passed over when he looked the other way. Tilia smiled conspiratorially. 'Our secret' I mouthed, and she nodded before disappearing upstairs.

"Tilia, come down again. Lunch is ready." Matthews stared up the stairs and shook his head in exasperation.

"Why did she go up again?" he asked, knowing fully well that I wouldn't have a better answer than he did.

We heard her feet tapping against the hardwood floor upstairs

"And she's running. The mystery thickens," he added.

"I have no idea what she's up to," I replied.

Matthews called her down a second time, telling her that he would come up and get her if she didn't hurry. We helped each other set the table, and again, I was struck by how normal it all felt. It was strange.