Page 20 of True North

I swallow the mouthful down.

My eyes drift shut. I’m drowning in the most incredible flavors.

“Do you like it?” she asks softly.

I open my eyes. Lips parted, I can’t pull my gaze from hers.

She frowns, then schools her face. “Do you... do you want some more?”

Body rigid from being this close to the only woman I have ever loved, ever wanted, I try to move. To tell her no. To tell her it’s fine.

I can’t do either.

“Oh! Hon, you’re going to be late for your date!” Ma gasps, her hand coming to rest on Louisa’s shoulder.

Louisa startles and spins back to face Ma. “Oh, goodness, I lost track of time! I have to go.”

She unties the apron, her fine fingers expertly working the knot undone. I watch as they press against the small of her back. Heart hammering, I can’t do anything more than simply stand there. Barely breathing.

She moves quickly, giving Ma a quick hug. “Same time next Wednesday? We can do the fresh pasta to go with that sauce. You did such a great job, Rosie.”

Rosie?

What the hell?

That’s a bit friendly.

Like the dope I am, I stand there, wordless, as Louisa rushes away from me for the second time in ten years. Running toward another guy.

This time doesn’t feel any better than the first.

* * *

The last of the sun’s rays disappear over the horizon as the old man stirs. It only takes three minutes before the cuss words and raised voice start.

Fuck me.

I make a point to be in the kitchen as he wanders around waiting for a plate of food to materialize at his place. Head of the table. Head of the family. Like he deserves that title.

More like the ass of the family.

Bitter, nasty old shit he is.

“What you lookin’ at?” he hisses at me, fingering tobacco onto a paper before he licks the edge and rolls his smoke.

Ma hates it when he smokes in the house. He does it when he’s in one of his moods to spite her. His messy bed hair is oily and plastered to one side of his face. Ma gently sets a plate of food and cutlery at his spot on the table.

“Eat something, Eddy, you’ll feel better.” Ma gives him a pleading look. Her hands wring through the apron covering her skirt.

“Ah, probably tastes like dirt.” He pushes it away.

My hands fist under the table as Ma sits in her spot across from me. Her gaze stays stuck to her plate. I eat the food she prepared and make sure to clean the plate.

He puffs away on his tobacco like it’s his last meal.

Wouldn’t that be somethin’.

“I’m taking the truck. Boys are having a game tonight.”

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