“No. I accept your decision, even if Dad doesn’t. What I’m saying is, you should find a passion—one other than your new girl, I mean.” He sighs. “Everyone needs something that fulfills them, independent of their family or the people they love. Otherwise, you know, lives tend to start going off the rails.”
I say nothing because I can’t refute his point. The acid in my belly lingers long after we hang up.
Chapter Forty-Three
Court
Skittles is glowing so brightly when she walks in that it’s almost like there’s a halo and rainbow over her head. She makes a couple of spins, then wraps her arms around me. “Honey, I’m home!”
I kiss her. “Welcome home, happy girl.”
“I am happy. The work was amazing. My new boss is great.”
She gushes about this Pete guy while flipping through the takeout menus, stopping on Thai food. “Want to split some prawns in tamarind sauce? I’m starving.”
“Sure, but if you’re hungry, you should get more than the prawns.”
“Don’t worry. I’m also going to order green chicken curry and steamed rice.”
“Didn’t your super-awesome boss feed you?”
“Nope. Too busy working.”
I place an order, grab a couple glasses of wine for us and listen to her chat about her new coworkers, her new office and the people she met today. Excitement bubbles within her, as bright and light as champagne fizzing. I could get drunk off it, I think, reaching over to take her hand in mine and trace the lines on her palm.
When the food arrives, I
sign for it, then bring it to the dining table. She suddenly stops talking, flushing deeply. “I can’t believe I’ve been going on and on about my job.” She takes a chair. “Sorry. Tell me about your day.”
“Nothing that exciting.” I divvy up our food on the disposable plates the Thai restaurant included. Then, very casually, I tell her about Edgar’s call—about Mom and Dad only.
Skittles’ face softens, and she squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I read the articles, but I thought maybe they’d reconcile.”
“Yeah, things are a little bit beyond that point now.” And saying it out loud lessens the sadness I felt earlier, as though it’s one of the steps in accepting the messiness of my family. I give her an extra prawn, since she said she was hungry.
“You can have it,” she says.
“You’ve been burning calories, working that cute little butt off.”
“Ha. I was on my butt all day.”
I steal a piece of chicken from her curry. Chicken for a prawn isn’t the best trade, but I’m a magnanimous guy. We eat in silence for a moment. Skittles must be really hungry, because she’s scarfing hers down with gusto. Didn’t they let her have lunch? Geez. Or maybe she has a great appetite since all her worries about her career are on hold now with the position at OWM.
Then, since the second part of what Edgar said today has been lingering on my mind, I say, “Hey, what do you think I’m good at?”
She licks the curry on her fork. “I dunno. Why?”
“I’m looking for something to do, but I’m not sure what.” Tell me I’m good at everything. But not like in that annoying pat way people say, “You’re good at anything you put your mind to,” when they want to throw out a quick feel-good answer so they can stop thinking about your problem.
Most importantly, I want to know what Skittles thinks about me. For the first time in forever, I want a girl I’m with not just to like me, but to respect me as well—my talent, my brain, my abilities.
Skittles taps her plastic fork against the edge of her plate. “I think you’re good at a lot of things, but the one I like the most is that you’re really good at making people happy and comfortable.”
I blink a couple of times. “That’s it?” I was hoping she’d say something…I don’t know…more interesting.
“I’m not saying you can’t do other things. I honestly think it’s an amazing talent, because not everyone has it, you know? You’re really just...likable, and you care about people.”
Yeah, that’s dubious as hell. Like the shit someone would say to appease a useless idiot.