Boneca [Doll]

Chapter 31: Child

When Luuk passed out the night before, Jona was still wide awake, giving him the heebie-jeebies as he stared at the ceiling, motionless and almost unblinking. When Luuk woke up the next morning, the other side of his bed was colder and lonelier than his last blind date. It was six a.m., and Thanksgiving loomed like a turkey ready for roasting.

Entering the kitchen twenty minutes later, Luuk found a scene more chaotic than a herd of caffeinated squirrels on roller skates. There were agitated voices, the aroma of fried eggs, Panama coffee, and something sweeter than grandma's secret fudge recipe.

"-roll it like that. Wow. A pâtissier is really on a different level."

"Oh, come on, stop it with the compliment!" Juliana giggled. "You're just a great teacher."

"My mother was a great teacher too, but it took me three attempts to get it to look decent enough," Jona said. "She was so meticulous, she would whack my hand with chopsticks every time I messed up with the cooking."

"Morning, Jona," Luuk grumbled.

"Hey. Morning." Jona gave him a fleeting smile, then continued doing whatever he was doing.

The kitchen looked like a war zone, with food containers, jars filled with vibrant-colored condiments, and the general mayhem of culinary warfare cluttering the counter.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Luuk." Juliana smiled while plating the egg rolls.

"You too." Luuk hummed and kissed Jona's cheek. "I didn't invite you here to be my personal chef, sweetheart."

"Juliana is the only person who cooks in this house. Might as well help her." Underlying Jona's minty breath was a hint of cigarette smoke.

"You really don't have to." Juliana patted his hand. "There was barely anyone in the house usually. I didn't have to cook every day."

"It's fine. It'll be too much for you today. I'm glad to get to cook again, too." Jona's smile was sincere, but it barely reached his eyes.

He had been in a bad mood since his first day here, too polite to voice his thoughts to Luuk. But it looked like Juliana, the egg rolls, the baked beans, and the French toast could still coax a smile from him when Luuk couldn't.

Tsk.

So Luuk let him prepare breakfast while he read the newspaper on the open veranda, a habit he clung to like a sloth hugging a branch to keep abreast of news without having to strain his eyes on web screens first thing in the morning.

As he was reading an article about a Californian professor charged by the U.S. with laundering money from Brazil, skimming more than $250,000 for himself, Jona called his name.

"Yes?" Luuk grumbled, resting his elbows on the table with the newspaper still in hand. The paper slapped his forearm when the cold gust blew. The paper said it was five degrees colder this year.

Jona's amber eyes shone under the sun as he stepped onto the veranda. His gaze swept over the empty beach a hundred yards away before he glanced at Luuk for a second, then looked at the white cup in his hand. He put it on the round glass table. "Un... I've never really brewed coffee, I don't drink coffee. But I hope it's up to your taste." The breeze carried the ambrosian, nutty scent into Luuk's nose. "Though I doubt brewing beans this expensive could go wrong in any way." He smiled fleetingly.