Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Agreed.” He handed me a flat spatula before I could even think to ask for one. “You seem calmer. Did the shower help?”
“Yeah.” I directed most of my attention toward spreading the potatoes out in a single layer. “That and cooking always relaxes me. I’m no trained chef, but like your pal Denver, I worked in a kitchen off and on for years, even before I opened The Heist. Taught myself how to cook out of self-defense as a kid because my folks were always trying some special diet or another.”
“Health professionals?” Eric used tongs to flip the bacon.
“You give them far too much credit.” I snorted. “No, more like nomadic hippy types with more family money than common sense. If the guru of the week recommended seaweed three times a day, they were game to try it. At least until the next fad rolled through.”
“I see.” Eric likely didn’t. He was the type to value stability, the whole picket-fence lifestyle, and undoubtedly wouldn’t have a clue what to do with folks like my flighty parents. “I’m glad you’re feeling more centered, but expect your emotions to be all over the place for a long while.” He gestured with the tongs. “A fire takes folks some time to recover from, and a big one like that will leave a scar.”
The way he emphasized scar before busying himself with more turning of the bacon told he had more than professional experience with fire.
“When was your fire?” I asked casually while checking the hashbrowns.
“Good catch.” He exhaled hard, taking a long pause to fetch a plate and some paper towel for the bacon to drain. That was fine. I wouldn’t press. He’d either tell me or not. But I also wasn’t shocked when he resumed talking. “We had a house fire when I was a teen. Older house, ancient heaters, no one’s fault. I’d already been considering medicine as a career choice, but the firefighters and paramedics who saved us made a lasting impression.”
“You…all made it out?” Despite my curiosity, I chose my words carefully.
“Yeah. For some families, the fire might have drawn everyone closer together, but with mine, it gave my parents even less incentive to stick around the Mount Hope area. Starting over was as good a reason as any for them to retire early to Arizona.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was what it was.” Eric punctuated his words by cracking four eggs into the hot skillet. “Even before I came out, we weren’t a warm and fuzzy family. However, I’d told them I was gay a few months before the fire so they’d stop pushing for a certain evangelical college. Things had been…tense all winter.”
“I can only imagine.” Although I’d only really explored being pansexual in my later years, I’d grown up around my parents’ free-spirited friend group, so the realization that my dick wasn’t always picky about gender hadn’t been any sort of crisis. “You were rather brave.”
“Eh.” Eric shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “They were going to find out eventually. And the fire was a good excuse for them to withdraw further. Easier to justify a lack of contact with several thousand miles between us. My sister was younger and moved with them, so that was that.”
“I doubt it was anywhere near that simple, but I’m glad you found a family of your own later.”
“Sad to say, but my friendships have been far deeper and more meaningful than any relationship with my parents.” Eric busied himself with plating the food.
“I’m not particularly close with my family either, which is likely why I fought so hard to raise Diesel myself. My parents bounced between varied communes and minimal employment.” I didn’t usually talk this much about the past. Perhaps the fire had loosened my tongue. Whatever the reason, I kept chattering as I followed Eric and the plates to the breakfast nook. “When I met Flo, we bonded over a lack of stable upbringing, but neither of us knew how to create said stability for a kid.”
“Seems like you did a decent job.” Eric gave a sharp nod as we sat opposite each other. “I know I haven’t been easy on Diesel, but I can tell you care. You have a close relationship. That’s something to be proud of. And I’m sure his mom is proud as well, even if you didn’t work out as a couple.”
“Flo died when Diesel was in tenth grade.” I kept the story as matter-of-fact as possible. “Overdose. She’d been in and out of our lives, mainly out, for years at that point, but he took it hard nevertheless.”
“I’m sure. I’m sorry.” Eric took on a more pinched expression, facial features drawing together. “And I know those words don’t truly help, but for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you and Diesel for making it through. And you’ll make it through this too, even if it doesn’t feel like it tonight.”