Page 55 of Between Love and War
Just as I’m drowning in my existential dread, a voice rips through the silence.
“What’s that smell?”
Polly materializes into view. Her hair is like a nest, her cheeks are red, and her eyes are still groggy. “Are those pancakes?” She points to the paperbag.
Michael coughs back a laugh. “Good morning, Pol.”
Polly stretches like a cat, then walks toward us.
“I dreamed I was on stage with Elsa, but then she turned into Miss Kate, and we did high kicks together.” She yawns mid-sentence, smacks her lips. “Wait, are those pancakes or did I dream about those too?” She pouts.
“They’re real,” I say, scooting the takeout box closer to her. “Michael got them for you.”
She gasps. “Tito Wowski, you’re the best!” She scrambles up and tackles him in a sleepy hug, nearly knocking over his very sad bowl of oatmeal.
He ruffles her hair. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Polly sits on one of the dining chairs and digs in with reckless abandon. As she eats, she starts telling us about her dream in very specific, very confusing detail, and the strange, quiet moment we were just in vanishes like mist under sunlight.
Michael glances at me once more, his earlier question still echoing somewhere between us.
But for now, I let it drift.
I’ve always imagined myself living a simple life. That’s where all my choices have led—teaching at the local preschool, waiting for the right man to come along, avoiding messy relationships, filling my days with baking and cooking so I’ll be ready for the family I dream about.
But maybe Michael’s right. Maybe it isn’t really a dream at all. Maybe it’s just the safest thing I’ve ever let myself imagine. A future that asks for nothing risky, nothing that could truly break me. Safe.
My phone buzzes, cutting through my thoughts, and I check to see that there are 3 messages. All from the same person.
Haley: He calls you Katie, he buys you breakfast, and you take care of his niece TOGETHER. OVERNIGHT.
Haley: IDK about you, Kate, sounds pretty serious to me.
Haley: Just please take care of yourself!!
I know she means well. She’s been watching over mesince we were kids, and now that we’re adults, she hasn’t figured out how to stop. I know this is how she loves—by worrying, by teasing, bylovinglyinsulting.
Sometimes, though, she forgets I’m not made of glass. That I am an adult, who, on good days, can make my own choices.
I reply to her to tell her I’m fine and that she should worry about belting notes while harnessed. That’ll keep her off my back. Haley’s very passionate about her job.
I look at Michael cutting up pancakes so Polly can eat them with her little fork. She’s still talking about another dream she had—something about flying whales and pink slides that lead to a classroom made of candy. And he’s listening. Intently.
And I’m here, still barefoot in someone else’s home, eating takeout that he got for me. So, I’m not going to pretend Haley’s being dramatic. She’s right. This? This is not normal. This isn’t a casual neighborly morning hangout.
But the thing is, I’ve spent so much of my adult life protecting my peace and guarding the soft parts. I don’t trust feelings when they first arrive; I examine them seriously. Is this affection? Comfort? Endorphins? Sugar high?
I don’t know. I never really do at first.
And okay, fine. I’m enjoying it. I’m enjoying the pancakes and the casual shoulder brush and how Polly calls us “team.”
But maybe I don’t have to be on high alert all the time. Maybe I can let myself be like this. Not forever. Not until I’ve mapped every possible emotional consequence. Just… for now.
Whatever this is—whatever it becomes—I think it might actually be okay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kate
