Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
We don’t speak throughout the movie for obvious reasons, we also don’t speak as we leave for not so obvious reasons. When we get outside I’m relieved to see the lack of rain. Nathan seems to think it’ll be okay to go back home, I hope he’s correct in his assumptions because blondie was right, the house is freaky in the dark. I’ll never look at it the same way again and I’ll be damned if I ever walk around at night after this.
“You’re a good cook,” his voice startles me.
“Thanks.” I think.
“I have to say though, the spaghetti was my favourite. Very rich.”
“It’s sort of my speciality I guess.”
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”
Does he genuinely not know? “It’s what I studied in University. I want to open up my own restaurant and bakery one day.”
He seems surprised and I’m wondering why, “That’s a good endeavour. I’m guessing you’ve had to drop out due to the recent events?”
“Yes. Caleb was going to drop out and stay at home with the baby.”
I see him shake his head as he mutters, “I bet he was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I notice his gloved hands twisting on the steering wheel, the leather squeaks against the rubber. “If you have something to say then by all means say it.”
“I don’t.” I wait for him to explain his strange muttered outburst further but he doesn’t. “Will you be cooking this evening?”
“If you like,” I shrug and stare at the passing trees. “It’s beautiful out here. I wish I could enjoy it more.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I wish Caleb were still alive and then everything wouldn’t seem so bland and tasteless, and I’m not just talking about food.”
He lets out a sigh and chews on his lower lip for a moment, “Caleb hated the countryside.”
“He did?”
“Yes. He preferred the beach.”
“Oh,” I didn’t know this. My eyes burn slightly, I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I’ve just realised I’m never going to know a lot of things about him now. Only what I already know and what I’m told by others.
The rain starts up again but it’s only a light drizzle in comparison to how it was before. I seek refuge in the kitchen, surrounding by bubbling pots and a warming oven, as Nathan left me as soon as we arrived home. I’m grateful for this, the darkness that I’ve tried so hard to keep away has come back again and right now I just need to be left to my thoughts.
I refuse to go to bed and wallow this time, I’m going to cook. I need to do something. I don’t want Caleb shouting at me from up there, telling me to get a hold of myself. Which I know he’s probably doing.
Or maybe he’s stood right beside me, brushing the hair from my shoulder in preparation for his lips. Maybe he’s whispering in my ear, telling me it’s all going to be okay.
“It’s not, Caleb,” I respond to nobody, my bottom lip quivering as I try to swallow the lump in my throat and relieve the burning behind my eyes. “It’s never going to be okay again.”
There’s no response, not like I was hoping, so I knuckle down and continue making dinner.
It must be the smell that has drawn Nathan from his room because he’s sat at the dining table right as I finish serving. He inhales deeply and looks at me, “This looks amazing.”
Sitting beside him I sip on my water and take a bite of my own. It tastes like ash again. “Thanks.”
“It tastes amazing too.”
“I would’ve made something different but there isn’t much in,” I explain my reasons for making spaghetti again and take another bite.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, his eyes concerned rather than their usual irritation.
I shrug, “Fine.”
He opens his mouth to speak but shuts it again and shakes his head. I’m grateful he doesn’t ask but part of me also wants him to. I want to spill everything that’s in my soul.
Although even if he did ask I doubt I’d tell.
I continue picking at my food until he finishes his and then set about clearing up. He helps me carry things from the dining area and into the kitchen.
“I won’t be available tomorrow, I have to go to the city. I doubt I’ll be back until Tuesday morning,” he licks his lower lip and dries the pots as I pass them to him. His gloves still firmly on his hands.
“Okay.” Great, another lonely day.
“I’ve arranged for a laptop for you. It should arrive in the morning after I’ve left. I’ll write down the password for the WI-FI and pin it to the fridge before I leave.”
Oh. Well I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s brilliant, thank you.”
“No problem,” I pass him a small bowl and gasp when it shatters on the ground after our fingers connect ever so slightly. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been more careful with my hand.” I immediately crouch and start picking up the shards.