And She Fell For Love

SEVEN

After the picnic about an hour later, we drove around town; we couldn't let this perfect day to go to waste. When it was getting dark, we drove to the mountains and just looked up at the sky. It was a perfect day, and not once did Jesse come to my head.

When we arrived home (well Dylan's home), Mrs. Bartley was making dinner. It was spaghetti with baked beans. My favorites; but now that I think if it, all foods are my favorites. Except for cauliflower and mozzarella. They make me wanna barf.

I decided to wait in the living room, until dinner was ready, and think of a way to show Dylan and his mom how appreciative I am for them letting me stay here. But I have no ideas. I could buy Mrs. Bartley some jewelry, but then, I can't even afford a rubber band. I could do some chores, but she'll probably tell me not to do it, since I am a guest. But I don't need to sweat over this, I have a week and some days to figure this out.
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Mrs. Bartley was such an amazing cook; that's what I loved best about her; also her hospitality and generosity. But mostly her cooking. Mrs. Bartley said she always dreamed of majoring in culinary arts when she started college, but her parents wouldn't let her. I can see where she's coming from, my parents will not allow me to go to a performing arts school. I love to sing and act.

"This dinner is amazing Mrs. Bartley. You are at master at cooking, I still can't believe you didn't try to go back to the culinary arts? You couldn't been a professional chef or own your own restaurant."

"Awe Mya, thank you, you're too sweet. Cooking is my passion but it's too late for me now. I can't go back to college and start over."

"But Mrs. Bartley, everyone deserves a chance. Though it is a lot of money, you deserve to live your dream. At least visit a class, just to know what goes on in there, it might motivate you."

"You know what Mya? You're most definitely right. I have a few friends who are in majoring in culinary arts; I'll just observe and maybe I'll observe them and see how 'fun' it is to be there. Thank you very much for the advice Mya. Are you guys done with your plates?" She took our plates, and headed to the kitchen.

"Thanks Mrs. Bartley!" I said loud enough for her to hear before she headed off to the kitchen.

I was still trying to find a way to thank them for letting me stay here. But I had absolutely no idea. I could sing a song and act Mrs. Bartley favorite movie scene, but something tells me that it's a tacky idea.

"So what are you thinking about?" Dylan asked me, making me lose track of my thoughts.

"Oh nothing, I'm just trying to find a way to show your mom how much she means to me."

"What, are you in love with her?"

"No Dylan, you are so literal. I want to thank for, for allowing me to stay, but my mind is completely blank right now."

"Well Mya, you're a really creative and talented girl. There's so much you can do, but just find an idea, and if you need help, I'm always here for you."

"Thank you Dylan. That means a lot to me." I went upstairs, slipped into my PJs and fuzzy slippers and brainstormed.

I came up with NOTHING.

I went back downstairs to ask Mrs. Bartley if she had a free day so I could take her somewhere, but I heard her talking to Dylan. It sounded serious.

"Dylan, you know how your father can be, if you're going to tell him, be settle." I heard Mrs. Bartley say. What happened to Dylan's dad?

"I know Mom, it's just that I love her, and don't like seeing her get hurt. Dad can be very heartless." I heard Dylan say so sensitively. There was something going on with Mr. Bartley, and I wanted to know.

I heart footsteps, and ran back upstairs as softly as I could. It was just Dylan. He looked glum.

"Dyl, why the sad face?" I asked him. I only called him Dyl when he was sad. He loved that name. I've been calling him that for years now.

"Nothing, just tired. It's pretty late, we should head off to bed." He said between a yawn and stretch. I believe that he was tired, but that wasn't the whole truth, and Dylan not telling me, meant that this was something BIG.

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~Author's Note

~What was Dylan hiding?

~What do you want to be when you grow up? I want to be a writer.