MICHAEL
I am alone in Kate’s bedroom when I wake up. For the first time since I rushed in here last night, I take a moment to really look around. The walls are a light beige, not unpleasant but not… Kate. She’d asked about personal touches in my old room, but hers is similar. If it weren’t for the handwritten post-its stuck on multiple surfaces, I wouldn’t be able to identify this room as hers.
A soft knock sounds at the door, but it opens without me answering. I pull the comforter up to hide my body, but it’s only Kate.
“Hi,” she murmurs, walking towards the bed, where I sit up.
“Hey. You okay?” I ask. Kate nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed, clutching a coffee mug. She is already dressed and showered, and she is regarding me with a cautious eye.
“What happened?” She asks in a small voice. “I remember… well, I don’t really remember.”
“You, uh.” I clear my throat. “You had a nightmare,” I say. “I think, I mean… you were screaming.” I look away from her.
“Oh.” She seems confused. “My mom said you came running.”
“I did.” I clear my throat again. “It’s happened before.”
“What?” She asks, alarmed.
“You have nightmares at home sometimes. All the time, actually.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, since… since, I uh. Told you everything. You talk in your sleep and you kind of… panic.” It’s odd to explain it to her; I had hoped I would never have to. “I can usually get you to calm down before you even wake up, but last night… I wasn’t here.”
“Oh.” Kate blinks several times, absorbing this new information. “Oh. Michael, I’m so sorry,” she says earnestly.
“What?” I ask, immediately reaching for her. “Baby, it’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No I know, I just… I didn’t know. You should have told me. Why didn’t you?”
I shrug, honestly unable to give her an answer. “It never bothered me,” I tell her. Kate scoots closer to me, resting her forehead on my shoulder. But it’s not close enough, it will never be close enough. I wrap my arm around her and pull her to my chest, resting my chin on her head. She sighs, half out of sadness and half out of content. It is an odd mixture.
“You can sleep in here with me tonight,” she says.
“But your dad—"
“I’ll take care of him. I need you here.”
And there is something, something about being needed that makes me feel like another missing piece of me has fallen into place. Someone needs me. Kate needs me.
“Are you ready to come downstairs?” She asks. And honestly, I am not. I am dreading spending the day with her family; they already think of me in a poor light and I’ve barely said two words to them.
“Yeah,” I mumble, trying to muster up some sort of enthusiasm. Kate laughs and ruffles my hair.
“My dad’s at work, if that makes you feel better.”
“It does,” I laugh. Kate laughs with me and tugs on my hand, pulling me out of the bed. Before I can even stand up straight, she is wrapping her tiny arms around me and holding me tightly to her, burying her face in my chest. “Hey,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
“I know. I just love you,” she sighs.
“I love you too.” I kiss the top of her head. “Let’s go have breakfast.”
Kate laughs. “It’s actually lunch time.”
“What? Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I didn’t want to,” she shrugs. “It’s vacation, and you need the sleep.”
I groan. “Wake me up next time, please. I don’t want your family to think I’m lazy.”
“You are lazy.”
“They don’t have to know that,” I laugh. Kate hands me a pair of plaid pajama pants that I’ve never seen before, and she stands next to me impatiently as I pull them on. Then she tugs on my hand again and leads me down the hallway, down the stairs. It’s a good thing I wore a t-shirt to sleep in last night.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Kate’s mother calls warmly as we enter the kitchen.
“Morning,” I mumble, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels. Kate and I sit down at the table with her cousin, Britt, as her mom pulls things out of the fridge.
“What do you guys feel like for lunch?” Kate’s mom asks.
“Anything,” Kate says with a shrug.
“Well we have chicken… Let me see what I can whip up.”
Kate’s eyes light up. “Michael can help you!” She blurts, glancing between me and her mom. I can tell she is already wondering if she should have said it.
“I- uh—" Fuck. I don’t know what to say.
“Do you cook?” Kate’s mom asks curiously.
“Not really, uhh… kind of.” I clear my throat.
“He does,” Kate says. The pride in her voice is evident. “He’s really good, mom. Let him help you.” She nudges me in the ribs and I stand awkwardly, absolutely hating everything about this moment. Except for Kate.
“Come here, then!” Kate’s mom says excitedly, grabbing my hand and pulling me to stand in front of the fridge. I decide that I actually really like her—she is overzealous at times, but she is so open and inviting. Together we pull random things out of the fridge, pantry, and cabinets until we have the slight makings of a meal.
Kate’s mom hands me a pink apron with a serious face, and I don’t dare look at Kate. I already know, as I slip the frilly thing over my head, that she is barely containing her laughter. But I ignore it as Kate’s mom willingly lets me take the lead. Within minutes, the aroma of lemon chicken fills the small kitchen. There is no recipe to follow, but it’s coming along well, whatever it is. Kate’s mom eagerly does everything I ask her to, jumping to the ready. When I glance over at Kate, she and Britt are deep in conversation at the kitchen table. It gives me a sense of relief, knowing that Kate has someone to talk to. She really doesn’t have many friends… at least not any that I know of, and there are plenty of things she doesn’t tell me. It’s good to know that she has an outlet.
Kate catches me watching her and gives me a shy smile, which I return all too willingly. How does she do that? One minute she’s sleeping in my arms and I feel like I’ve known her forever, and the next she gives me butterflies with one look, like a stranger from across the room.
The doorbell rings and Kate stands to get it, brushing past me as she leaves the room. She kisses my cheek swiftly and squeezes my shoulders, earning a warm smile from her mother. I turn back to the stove, stirring the lemon and basil glaze that Kate’s mom and I have created. Maybe we’ll glaze the chicken and then bake it? Maybe we should grill it.
I jump as voices sound in the foyer and the dog comes barreling out of the living room, barking like crazy. Kate’s mom jumps too, and she laughs at our combined reactions. “That’s odd,” she says with a little laugh. “Ellie doesn’t ever bark at guests.” She cranes her neck as if to see into the foyer, but there is a wall in the way. I shrug and turn back to the stove, hoping that Kate’s father is not home yet. I’m not ready for him to see me in a frilly pink apron just yet.
“Um. Michael?” When I turn around, Kate is standing in the doorway. She looks nervous. She also looks like she is desperately trying not to look nervous. Why?
She steps into the kitchen, and the answer to my question steps in right behind her, looking almost as nervous.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says with a painfully anxious laugh. I want to tell him that he is interrupting something, but my mind is reeling at the sight of him… here. What is Luke doing here?
