Page 12 of A Brother At My Back

She nodded and pursed her lips, “It’s fine, just don’t get mad at me when I keep asking you what you just said or telling you I don’t know what that means because I don’t know what that means… at least not the way you just said it. Are you unhappy with toast and eggs, or is it okay? I mean, this is typically how I managed to get my ass beat. Non-committal grunts or incomplete sentences that I would have to interpret with a fifty-fifty shot of getting it right or wrong. I don’t want to live like that again.”

“My bad, eh. ‘Sweet as’ means, uh, like cool, in American. Eggs and toast are ‘sweet as’ or ‘cool’ with me.”

She nodded and rolled her lips together indecisively. She was thinking awful hard and finally said, “Thank you. I’m sorry for snapping.”

“No worries.”

I dropped into a seat at the little two-person table scattered with papers and school books and folded my hands on the top. I could watch her move in the small space and she was even more lithe and gorgeous when she moved. She had a way about her, you know?

I diverted my attention, let my eyes wander over her learning materials and gathered it was for some kind of social work.

“So what you want to do when you graduate, eh?” I asked and she looked up from the stove, where she’d cracked some eggs into a skillet.

“I don’t know yet; I thought about working with abused women and kids but it might be too hard. I’m trying hard not to think about it too much until I get to the point where I have to make a decision. Too many things are going on at once, you know?”

“Yeah, I reckon.” I scratched an itch on my forehead and took my eyes off her for a minute. I didn’t want to come across an awkward bloke that couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

“What about this?” she asked. “I mean, how is this all supposed to work?”

“What, your ex-man? A piece of piss.”

“I don’t disagree with that,” she said and stirred the hissing eggs in the pan.

I smiled, “Nah, well, he’s that too, really, but in Kiwi, that means he’s easy. Or the problem with him is, anyhow.”

“Nothing with Silas is easy,” she said and I almost barely heard her over the popping and sizzling in the pan in front of her.

“We’ll start now to get into a routine. I’ll pick you up tonight and take you into work; you got security there, yeah?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Good deal. I’ll pick you up at three and drive you home, check and make sure all is good here, have you lock me out, and then I’ll be just a phone call away if you need me.”

“Sounds reasonable,” she said carefully.

“No worries, girl. Everything is gonna be good as gold, now. You come to the right place for help.”

She stared at me for a long minute, one dark eye glittering through the long chestnut fall of her hair. She did that, hid behind her hair to cover the ugly mark he left on her face. She didn’t see she was a warrior to survive a thing like that. I hesitated, had a thought, and planted it so it had some time to grow. I wouldn’t bring it up now. Not yet, the girl was still too raw, too afraid. Made me afraid she’d just dismiss it.

“I really hope that’s true,” she murmured, then plated some eggs just as the toast popped from the toaster.

I smiled, “It’s true, and it looks like you’ve done this a time or two.” She set the plate in front of me and handed me some flatware.

“Maybe,” she murmured with a wry smile.

She drifted back and forth between the table and the kitchen getting other things, like salt and pepper, hot sauce, butter, and jam. She finally took a seat across from me and sighed.

“You eat, you’ll feel better,” I said around a mouthful of my own.

“I know, but it’s tough when the mere thought of food makes you queasy.”

I knew that was right. I also knew the stress wasn’t helping. We would see what we could do about that.

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