Page 30 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“I had to finish.”
“Is Geoff waiting on it? He left hours ago.”
“You don’t understand. I had to finish. Now.”
I rub my chin, my fingers getting lost in the whiskers, as a fluttering flies in my stomach.
“I got … stuck.” Vincent’s eyes lower and I take a seat. “It’s this constant mental rumination. Checking. My brain can’t think of anything else besides the task.”
“You were focused.”
“You could say that.” Vincent braces himself on the table and sweat flecks his shirt. He can’t be comfortable. “I feel like a fool. And I need to pee. And eat. I’m starving.”
“Go pee. You’re coming with me to Gillian’s. She has food. A feast.”
“But … ” Vincent’s chin drops to his chest.
“You’re in luck. I happen to keep backups.” I open a drawer and reveal clean, folded shirts. I hand him an olive Henley and say, “Go to the bathroom. Freshen up. I’ll text my daughter.”
“Thank you.”
He takes the shirt. Our fingers brush and my heart skips a beat. I close my eyes as he heads for the bathroom. As I contemplate his circumstances, a wave of empathy tightens my chest, igniting a strong desire to offer support. Right now, my son-in-law’s brisket is all I’ve got, and it’s been known to be magical.
CHAPTER 11
Vincent
“Finally! Fifteen minutes before bedtime.”
A tall, slender woman with fair skin and strawberry-blonde hair opens the door, shouts at Kent, and immediately marches back inside. I’m not sure she even noticed me.
The urge to bolt home, take a shower, and curl up in bed for the entire weekend was overwhelming after what occurred at school. But Kent Lester, with his kind, soft eyes, wanting to watch over me, take care of me, and the promise of “the world’s most magnificent brisket” swayed me. Besides everything else, the man generously offered me a clean shirt.
I spent fifteen minutes in the school’s bathroom scrubbing and washing, practically bathing in the sink like a muddy bird in a puddle. But when I emerged, he was there. Standing by the bathroom exit, bag slung over his shoulder, waiting patiently. For me.
He put his hand on my shoulder and led me to his car.
“I’ll drive you back.”
Somehow, he knew I was in no condition to drive. He offered to playRumours, but I declined, preferring silence to center myself. Inhaling courage, I’m ready for an evening with Kent’s family.
“Good evening to you, too, Gillian!” Kent shouts into the house. He nods toward the entrance, and I follow him, happy to take refuge from the frigid February wind. “My daughter, Gillian. The house can be a little chaotic.”
“How’s school? Are they off your back yet with that stupid software?” Gillian shouts from the kitchen.
“Mommy, you said a bad word!”
A little girl with the same strawberry-blonde hair as her mother and amber eyes brighter than the moon appears. She’s wearing green flannel pajamas and slippers with a cartoon bunny’s head on them.
“Stupid isn’t a bad word, sweetie.”
“Well, it’s not nice,” the girl says, facing us. “Who are you?”
“Lia, this is my friend Vincent,” Kent lifts her up, kissing her cheek as she holds on to his neck. “He’s helping me with a big project at school.”
“The stupid one?” Lia says, parroting her mother.
“Vincent, it’s nice to meet you,” Kent’s daughter reappears with a dishrag over her shoulder. She kisses Kent’s cheek and his face beams from all the familial affection.
