Page 12 of Between Love and War
I close her door and jog to the other side. The glare she shoots me could probably set me on fire. I enter her car, and as suspected, I don’t fit. I move the seat all the way back and recline.
“Your car is tiny,” I say as I finally squeeze myself in.
“You’re free to get out. She’s perfect.”
“She?” I ask as I attempt to put on a seatbelt.
“Daisy. My car.”
I stare at her. “You named your car?”
Kate turns to me with a deadpan look. “You don’t name yours?”
“No, because it’s a car.”
She scoffs under her breath and shifts into drive. “Typical heartless behavior.” She starts driving and makes a turn. “Just need to drop off something.”
She turns toward Lily’s, a convenience store. I admit, for a convenience store it looks oddly put together. There are flower beds, lounge seats and tables outdoors, and a very warm exterior of yellow wooden pleats. It looks like someone’s house with just the word ‘Lily’s’ plastered on top.
Kate parks and grabs the bag of pastries, opening her door. “Wait here,” she says.
I don’t wait. Instead, I follow her in, the bell above the door jingling as we step inside. Inside, I confirm that it’s not just a convenience store. The right side is lined with the usual aisles filled with grocery items, while the left side is a giant lounge with mismatched chairs and wooden tables. There are photos on the walls, drawings plastered on one side, and everything that makes the place feel homey.
Behind the counter, the woman who gave me the biko yesterday, Manang Linda, is stacking packs of instant noodles, her silver hair pinned back with a bright yellow clip. She looks up when she hears the bell, and her eyes narrow when she spots us.
“Good morning, you two,” she says teasingly.
Kate smiles and shakes her head. “Just dropping these off, Manang Linda.” She sets down the pastries on the table in the store’s lounge and starts arranging the display.
I grab a chocolate chip cookie from the display, and Kate narrows her eyes at me. She swats my hand away before I can grab a brownie too. I chuckle at her determination.
Manang Linda looks at us and says, “You look more handsome when you laugh, Michael.”
“Katie’s funny when she thinks her five-foot frame is frightening.” I laugh again, but Kate is rolling her eyes.
“Five-two, but whatever. Bye, Manang Linda. Enjoy the pastries,” Kate says as she makes her way out. I follow her quickly.
When we’re back in the car, we drive in silence. I take a bite of the cookie Kate baked.
“Holy shit, Katie, this is the best chocolate chip cookie I’ve had in my life,” I say, unable to contain myself.
Kate smirks, looking way too pleased with herself, and says, “I know.”
“What’s in it?” I ask, licking crumbs off my fingers. “Love? Care? All that cheesy stuff? You strike me as someone who’s into the cheesy stuff.” She ignores me, so I ask again. “So, what’s the secret ingredient?”
She keeps her eyes on the road. “Rat poison.”
I nod. “Cool. Worth it.”
She taps her fingers against the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road. I glance at her, at the way the early morning sun filters through the windshield, catching the brown curls that have already started escaping her bun.
“So, you bake fresh batches every day? For free?” I ask as I put the entire cookie in my mouth.
“It’s therapeutic. And, you know I’m a kind person…” she trails off.
“Ah. Unlike me, right?”
Her silence is answer enough.
