Page 28 of Love Rewritten

“How old were you?” I ask, looking up.

He stares at the picture with a nostalgic smile. “That was Rose’s and Cole's twelfth birthday, so I would have been thirteen. Cole had gotten that sprinkler as a present that year. He was more excited about the super-soaker water guns it came with, and we ended up having a water fight for hours. We came in more pruned than a shriveled grape.” He pauses. “I wish you could have met him. You two would have loved each other. He’d be able to keep up with your wit far better than I can.”

I smile at that, trying to imagine his personality compared to Dallas’s. Something crosses Dallas’s face. I can’t tell if it’s sadness, anger, or maybe both, but his face falls flat, a little melancholy. I tilt my head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just … remembering.”

A hug feels like the only right thing to comfort him in this. He hugs me back tightly, and we stay there for a while, breathing in each other's scent, sharing body heat, sharing a heartbeat.

We’re pulled from this blissful moment when Trisha calls up the stairs, “Dinner’s ready.”

Rose isn’t home yet when we make our way down the stairs, but Trisha says she will be soon and that we shouldn’t wait up for her. I pass through the living room where a large, white brick fireplace sits nestled between two tall windows.

A family portrait that looks only a year or two old is mounted on the brick. I walk up to it to see the whole family, including Cole, in some semblance of matching clothes. Dallas looks almost the same. His hair is a bit shorter in the picture than I’ve seen it. Rose’s hair is long and a shade lighter than Dallas’s from the highlights. It’s easy to see how alike everyone looks in this picture. They all have the same nose. And everyone looks so happy in comparison to the mess they’re sitting in now.

“That was two years ago,” Trisha says from the archway into the kitchen. She fold her hands in front of her.

I offer a smile. “It’s a good picture,” I say, a little unsure of what to say to her.

“He would have liked you,” she says, taking a few steps into the room.

I look at Dallas, who’s smiling softly. “That’s what Dallas said, too.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence while the three of us stare at the picture and I let my eyes wander the room. The tall ceilings are slatted in a light-stained wood and a large fan hangs from the vaulted center.

You wouldn’t guess it from the outside, but the inside of the house gives off heavy cabin vibes. I wouldn’t have pegged this family to enjoy that sort of décor, but now that I’m standing here, I think it makes sense.

Dr. Kraus once told me that for him, writing is like an escape, that it lets you live a life separate from your own. I latched on to that idea wholeheartedly. With Trisha being an attorney, I think wanting somewhere cozy to come home to after the sterility of the walls of the courthouse would be welcoming. Compared to the house I grew up in, this one is bigger but still feels just as homey.

“Well,” Dallas says, clapping his hands together once and pulling everyone out of the awkward silence. “Dinner?”

Their kitchen table is large and made of thick, heavy wood. A floral runner lines the length of the table, dangling slightly on either side. Four off-white placemats sit next to each other at one end. A hot pot of spaghetti noodles sits separate from the meat and sauce combination in another pan. A wooden bowl of Caesar salad takes residence by the noodles, and a smaller bowl of mixed veggies steams farthest away from where I sit.

Dallas and I sit next to each other in front of two placemats. Trisha sits opposite Dallas, leaving the one across from me for Rose.

“This all smells amazing.” It’s the only small talk I can come up with. I’d rather keep the conversation away from legal stuff today, but I’m sure we’ll make our way around to it at some point.

“Thank you,” Trisha beams. “I’m glad you two could stay. It feels good to cook more than a single or double-serve meal.”

“I’ll always take the free food,” Dallas chimes in.

That gets a laugh from everyone, including Rose, who walks in at the same moment.

“Why do you think I still live at home?” Rose jokes, setting her things down on the kitchen counter before joining us at the table. She takes the last open seat across from me and grabs the already open bottle of wine from the table. The cork pops out easily and she pours herself a healthy glass.

Trisha laughs and offers me the scoop for the noodles. “Guests first.”

I take the scoop from her and gather my plate together. The food is good. The small talk flows easily. They mostly talk about Rose’s job and Dallas’s games. It’s easy to tune out from my life. It also feels weird to truly enjoy a family meal. But I can’t help but wonder if they think about the two people missing from the table.

I picture Dr. Kraus sitting next to Trisha at the head of the table and Cole sitting next to Rose. They’d laugh and chat about whatever happened throughout their days. Dr. Kraus would surely comment on Dallas’s baseball games. And I’d like to think I could join in on the fun, the banter. It could be easy with everyone. But it’s not. It won’t be the same. It’ll only be the four of us. And if we ever have dinner with Dr. Kraus, it’ll be the same.

“So, Abby,” Trisha starts, pulling me from my thoughts.

Here we go. I sit up a little straighter, focusing on my food again.

“How has the summer been for you? Aside from … certain things.” She shovels a bite of food into her mouth, likely trying to prevent herself from saying anything more.

“Oh, uh, it’s been good. I’ve been able to focus on my writing a lot lately. Did Dallas tell you I was nominated for an award through the LAO?”

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