Page 43 of Anything for You
“You are so magnanimous Jer; I didn’t know you had it in you.”
I grin up at her, the familiarity of her shortening my name making me feel light as air.
“Grab a seat ladies. It’s time to experiment.”
Maddy’s mouth ticks up in a little smile as they both take their seats at the circular table, one on each side of me. Maddy’s eyes widen when she sees all the cereal boxes.
“Okay,” I start, gesturing towards the boxes. “What we have here are all the best cereals in the world. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Reese’s Peanut Butter Puffs, Frosted Flakes, CocoaPuffs, Honey Nut Cheerios, Lucky Charms, Froot Loops, and Crunch Berries. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to create the best cereal combination, because everyone knows cereals are better if you mix them together.”
Emma is looking at me like I’m a little nuts, and Maddy nods seriously. Both reactions make me chuckle. There is literally nowhere I would rather be right now than right here in this bright kitchen, surrounded by red-haired girls and cereal boxes.
“Now, once you’ve made the best combo, you have to decide on milk and toppings. We have plain milk, vanilla milk, strawberry milk, and chocolate milk. And for toppings, we’ve got strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. I’m a purist and believe that fruit doesn’t belong anywhere near my cereal. You may think differently, and that’s okay. We accept all opinions here at Cereal Tasting Central.”
Maddy giggles again and Emma beams at me, making me feel twenty feet tall.
Chapter Sixteen
Jeremy
“What happened to your knee?”
Our cereal taste testing is long over with the Cinnamon Toast Crunch/Reese’s Peanut Butter Puff with vanilla milk combination winning by a landslide. I’m just about to get up to clear the table when Maddy asks the innocent question.
My stomach clenches.
I look over at her, but her attention is focused squarely on the network of scars that bisect my right knee. Even years after my injury, the best scar creams money could buy, and an ill-advised attempt at laser scar removal in my late twenties, the scars stand out like beacons. A visual reminder of the worst day of my life, destined to mark me for as long as I live.
Emotion fills my chest and my heart pounds as my mind is assaulted with memories of that day. Fighting with the other team’s defenseman for the puck. A brutal check to the boards. A tangle of players. My right leg caught in the scuffle. Not being able to free it. The snap of ligaments and crack of bones. Falling. The wet cold of the ice seeping through my pads and jersey. Mystomach roiling as every beat of my heart sent knives of pain shooting down my leg. The silence of the arena.
I realize I’ve been silent for too long when Emma’s hand closes gently over my forearm. Her skin on mine brings me back to the present. My breathing is shallow, sweat prickling my neck. But warmth flows from the spot where she touches me, and her steady gaze settles my breathing. Calms my pounding heart. She doesn’t look concerned about my sudden silence. She’s not judging my inability to remember the day I was injured without reliving it, even all these years later.
Instead, her gaze is knowing. Kind. It says,it’s okay.I’m here.
I don’t know how it’s possible that I can read her mind like this, but I can hear her voice as if she spoke the words directly to me. With Emma’s hand on me and two sets of green eyes watching, I feel like maybe it is. Or at least, with Emma, it could be.
I clear my throat, focusing my attention on Maddy across the table from me.
“I used to play on a hockey team right here in Pittsburgh. I broke my leg during a game, and I had to have surgery to fix it. That’s how I got the scars.”
It’s the simplest answer I can give, and she seems to accept it, but her gaze drifts from my face to my leg and back again.
“Is hockey dangerous?”
“Sometimes it can be. But mostly, it’s fun.”
“Do you still play?”
My throat starts to clog up again and I cough to try and shove it down. I’m a live wire. Flayed open and exposed by the simple but not so simple questions of a seven-year-old.
“I don’t. I haven’t played in a long time.”
Maddy opens her mouth and closes it again, and I can tell there’s something else she wants to say. Emma told me Maddydidn’t talk much but she’s on a roll, so even though her questions are of theinadvertently torture the already tortured ex-hockey playerkind, I want to encourage her to keep talking.
“What’s on your mind Little Red?”
Her eyes light up at the nickname, and Emma doesn’t miss it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her eyes light up too and I take a chance, sliding my left leg over towards her under the table and hooking my foot around hers. I see her mouth turn up in a small smile, and she doesn’t move her foot away.
It feels like a victory.
