Page 74 of Keep Him Like Secrets

“I know a thing or two about shitty moms.”

“Did yours cook?”

“Sure. Yeah. She cooked a lot of meth.”

“Oh,” I said, taken aback. I hadn’t expected that.

“Yeah. That was basically all the sustenance she needed. So when the teachers noticed my bones sticking out of my skin, they called the ‘good people’ at child services to come and take me away.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight. But a mean and bitter eight. Unsurprisingly, most foster families didn’t want a mean and bitter kid sitting at their dinner table.”

“You bounced around a lot?”

“I’m pretty sure I held the record.”

“Were the foster homes worse than your actual home?”

To that, she snorted. “That’s a complicated question. One of those ‘devil you know’ type situations. Living with my mom sucked. But at least it was consistent. I never knew what a new foster home was going to be like.”

“My mom preferred benzos. And when she couldn’t afford that anymore, she switched to heroin.”

Saff’s gaze bore into mine, seeing something I was sure no one else had ever been able to. “When did you cut out?”

“Fifteen. You?”

“Sixteen.”

“Where’d you go?” I asked, turning to mix the onions and garlic, then salting the pasta water.

“The street. There was nowhere else to go. You?”

“I had a… friend,” I told her. I wasn’t exactly lying. But I wasn’t giving her the whole truth either. She wasn’t the only one with secrets. Hell, mine were likely much worse than hers. “He took me in, gave me some work. It let me slowly save and work toward… all this,” I said, waving around at the apartment.

“Did they teach you to cook too?”

“No, this I did myself. Started with adding things to my ramen to try to make it better. But as money for more and better ingredients came in, my skills grew. It’s relaxing. I cooked a lot that first year when I worked on my first club.”

“Is everything alright with the club?” she asked, tensing.

“The club is fine,” I assured her, reaching for my glass of wine and taking a sip. “T had to leave work early tonight. And I wasn’t going to get much done without her, so I came home. Only… I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not working.”

“Really? I am an expert at being home. I’d never leave if I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite thing about home?”

“It’s mine. I never had anything that was just mine growing up. And I had even less when I was living on the streets. Once I could finally afford my own place, I really dug my heels in. Every inch of it is how I want it. Except the kitchen. The only things I care about in there are my coffee maker and the fridge for storing my takeaway leftovers.”

“You never make anything? Boxed mac & cheese, nothing?”

“Nothing. The fanciest I get is pouring hot water into instant oatmeal packets.”

“Did you never want to learn?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Come here.”

---