Page 6 of Heat Haze
After a moment he pulls back, letting the cookies rest on the table. With the quietest pleased hum he leans in and nods at me, his gaze interlocked with mine. He repeats the motion a few times before his hair gets in the way of his eyes.
A wide smile creeps up on my face. Something about it is just… nice. It’s sweet despite how poorly the rest of the night has gone. Plus the way he lit up makes me certain it was the right thing to do.
“He’s sayin’ thank you.” Damien explains before anyone can ask, spoon swirling around his bowl. “We don’t normally let him eat crap like that but takin’ it away would just result in him throwin’ a tantrum.”
My smile drops. “Oh, uh. Sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“No need to apologize,” Mr. Tavera chimes in. His voice carries authority, as expected from the man who’s obviously running the show here. “He works hard enough, anyway. Even he deserves a lil’ treat every now and then.”
Despite how much I hate that, I nod. There’s something grossly dehumanizing about the way they talk about him. But I also understand that is not my family and not something I should even think about getting involved in.
Grant stands up, pushing his chair out as wood rubs against wood and lets out a low screech. “I’m about ready to tuck in for the night. Um… Is there a place for us to sleep, or…?”
Mr. Tavera stares at him, expression unchanging. “Course,” his attention shifts to his daughter. “Show ‘im to his room, please.”
“Um—” Nadine jumps out of her seat, clearly not liking the idea of her boyfriend and some stranger going off alone together. “I’ll come too. I’m tired.”
“Uh-huh.” Alma guides the two out of the dining room, and their footsteps trail off as they head upstairs. Somehow it’s even more awkward now, which my other two friends can clearly sense since they just get up and chase after others. Not even a goodbye or anything. My friends can be real assholes sometimes.
Now it’s just me and a bunch of men that I do not know. That’s not terrifying at all, considering they’re all big strong farmer guys who probably view me as nothing more than a stupid little socialite from the city. To them I’m probably ‘spoiled’ or ‘rich’ despite being neither of those things.
“So, uh…” I absolutely cannot stand the silence. “Do you guys want any help washing up, or…?”
I feel as though I owe themsomething, and washing dishes is the least I can do. A delicious dinner and a place to sleep is beyond generous. Evenifthey’re all sizing me up, they’ve done so much for us already.
They must be trying to figure out what exactly mydealis. Well, all of them except Damien maybe—he doesn’t seem to care much.
“It’s alright,” Mr. Tavera murmurs. “You’re a guest. You ain’t gotta do none of that. Alma’ll clean it up when she gets back.”
I give it one last little push. Only one because Mr. Tavera sort of scares me. “No, really… I insist. I don’t mind at all.”
Mr. Tavera glances over at Lucio, who just shrugs. “Alright, sure. Go ahead.” They both seem wary of me, which I don’t blame them for. Iamjust a stranger in their home, but still I offer an awkward half-bow and get to gathering up the bowls.
“What should I do with all the leftovers?” I ask, staring at the four completely full bowls lined up next to mine.
“Toss ‘em,” Lucio mumbles, the crinkle of plastic filling the air as he helps to carefully open the cookies I gave Toro. Mr. Tavera nods in approval, and I don’t linger around. I take the first batch of dishes to the kitchen, which is well kept and clean.
After I wash a couple bowls clean and set them in what I assume is the drying rack. The wooden thing was definitely hand carved, but it’s not polished and almost looks like more of a weird art piece.
Footsteps on my right let me know someone is there standing in the doorway. I glance over to see Alma peering at me curiously.
“What’re you doin’?” She asks, unmoving.
I blink, feeling caught even though I didn’t do anything wrong. “Uh… washing the dishes?” I say, eyes squinting in thought.
“Pa let you do that?” One of her brows raises up, and she finally steps over to join me near the sink. “He says this is women’s work.”
“I… don’t share that sentiment.”
“Interestin’.”
She’s working with me now, but I feel more like I’m in the way. She works methodically, and it’s clear this is something she’s grown very familiar with. I step back, awkwardly tugging at the collar of my shirt.
“Am I… Am I bothering you?”
Alma stops and looks at me. Her expression is hard to read, but her eyes are lit up with intrigue. “Not really. It’s just weird to have another person in the kitchen.” She turnsback to the sink, resuming on the last few dishes. “But you should on head back to yer’ friends. They don’t seem very happy.”
She pauses.
