Nicole could cook.
Maybe I just hadn’t eaten anything really homemade for a long time, but the Mexican feast she concocted was the best thing I could ever remember eating. When she had said rice and beans, I assumed it would be from one of those boxed dinners, but she had obviously made everything from scratch right down to using fresh chili peppers.
It was phenomenal.
Even though my head didn’t seem particularly interested in food, my body clung to the taste and feeling of the warm sauces and vegetables. I filled my stomach with three helpings along with extra rice.
“When did you last eat?”
Nicole asked with a smile as I shoveled in the last of my third serving.
“After the game,” I replied.
“There was a game today?”
“No,” I said, “last night.”
“So I was right—you didn’t eat all day today?”
I shook my head.
“No wonder you’re so hungry.” She smiled.
“I think it’s just that good,” I replied.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll box some of it up, and you can take it home.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
For a moment, I thought about the kind of questions having homemade leftovers in our refrigerator would spark. Dad seemed to have no problem with getting Nicole to do my homework, but I had the feeling he would consider cooking, crossing some kind of line.
“Probably not a great idea, really,” I said.
“That’s a pretty quick change of mind,” Nicole remarked.
“Well…” I said, my mind racing to come up with something plausible, “if my dad saw it, he’d want to know where it came from. Your dad does work for him, and he might end up mentioning it. You know…”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she agreed. She started putting the leftovers away and gathering up the dishes. I grabbed our plates off the table and took them to the sink. She didn’t have a dishwasher, so I dried everything as she washed it. My head was starting to fog up again—images of Mom danced around in my head, cooking and washing dishes while I sat at the table eating warm cookies from the oven or just reading the comics from the newspaper.
After the dishes were put away, Nicole asked if I wanted to watch TV or something. We sat on the couch in the living room, but I was barely able to keep my eyes open as she flipped through channels, trying to find something worth watching. Something about sleeping away most of the afternoon actually seemed to make me feel more tired than I would have been if I hadn’t slept at all. Though it was only ten-thirty on a Saturday night, and I had slept for at least four hours already, I was wiped out.
“You should go to bed,” Nicole said. She turned off the TV and led me back up the stairs. She poked around in a tall, narrow closet in the hallway and came out with a green toothbrush still in its package. She also handed me a little tube of travel-sized toothpaste and a purple washcloth. “Do you need anything else?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. I blinked a few times as the day started over again in my head. Mechanically, I went into the bathroom, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I looked into the small round mirror and tried to figure out just who was in there. I didn’t get any answers from my reflection, so I tried to tame my hair a bit, failed, gave up, and went back to Nicole’s room.
She had changed into sweats and a T-shirt and was typing away at her computer. She glanced up at me and bit down on her lip and then clicked with her mouse a couple more times before shutting the thing down. I stood in the doorway, not really sure what I should do. Nicole looked agitated. I wondered if I had done something to piss her off again, but I couldn’t come up with anything.
“Is something wrong?” I finally asked.
Nicole gave me a tight smile.
“No, not really—just feeling a little guilty.”
“Guilty?” I asked. I had no idea what she could have been feeling guilty about.
“Yeah, well…” she took a deep breath and blew it out of her mouth. She stood up and motioned for me to get into the bed. I obliged, and she sat down next to me.