A Walk in Your Shoes

CHAPTER 9

His mom is a little on edge as we stroll back in. She turns to Flint and says something about hurrying because their dad will be home soon.

"I can help," I offer.

Ramona stands straight after setting the chicken into the oven. It's one of those premade chickens that need to be heated up a little. She turns and gives me a quick smile.

"That would be wonderful. I'm happy to see you decided to stay. Could you help with the mashed potatoes?"

I start to open my mouth to tell her I'd do it when Flint's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Mom, she has a maid I'm sure she doesn't...."

I shoot him a dirty look. His mom stops to watch the interaction between her son and I. I don't want to be nasty in front of her, but that comment was uncalled for.

"What happened to stepping in the other person's shoes? You have no idea what I do at home. I'm perfectly capable of mashing potatoes." I grab the back of the chair I'm standing behind.

His face turns red. I don't care because he was the one to disrespect me. Just because I have a maid doesn't mean I'm incompetant.

"Flint Lee Rogers, apologize." Ramona scolds him like he's a child.

"Sorry," he mumbles, grabbing the last of the groceries to put away.

Ramona rolls her eyes at her son. She turns to me and begins showing me where everything is located. Next to the old electric stove is a cutting board and some potatoes. I quickly peel them. I'm well aware of how close Flint is now. She's got him on veggie duty. He's dumping fresh vegetables into the pot on the burner next to mine. We stand side by side in silence while working.

"Flint, has Parker been playing games more than usual? I got a call from his teacher that the homework he did the other night you helped him with never showed up."

His cheeks turn red.

"Yeah, I'm sure he did."

She sighs. "Honey, I really need you to help him and make sure that homework gets from his desk to that backpack. You know damn well your father won't do anything."

Her voice shakes a little when she mentions his father. I think back to what Flint said at the closet and how he seemed hesitant to want me to stay. Maybe that's what he meant by I don't understand, and why he wanted me out of here before his dad came home.

"I know mom," he says, just above a whisper.

I search the room for Connor, he's sitting at the table looking bored out of his mind.

"Hey Connor, I need help mixing these in a few minutes. Do you want to help?" I ask.

He stands up so fast from his chair it almost slips out from under him. He rushes to grab the stool, and pushes it over to the mixer.

The hairs on my neck stand again, but I ignore Flint. I don't even have to turn to know he's giving me one of his signature looks.

"Can I turn on the mixer?" Connor asks.

"Yeah, of course," I say.

He claps his hands in excitement like he's never done this before. I show Connor where the switch is. He flips it and giggles as the mixer swirls around.

"This is awesome!" He shouts.

***

A half an hour later everything is cooked and the table is finished. We all sit down and there's an uncomfortable silence around the table as they all wait. Utensils clank against the glass plates, and Connor hums, which seems to settle everyone down. Flint sits across from me, beside his mom, and Connor happily said that he wanted to sit beside me.