Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 110273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
I would look back at all these little routines I did now, that got me through each day, and I would analyze the reason I did them, the reason they helped me, but for now, I didn’t do any of that.
I grabbed jeans, a shirt, a sweater, and I put on socks and sneakers. I was comfortable, ready for anything, and only then, after snagging my phone and putting it in my pocket, did I leave the room.
I never once looked in the mirror.
* * *
“We should day drink today.”
Matt found me in the kitchen corner, cutting board in front of me, knife in my hand, and thirty carrots spread out, ready to be chopped. I’d just been victorious in getting Theresa to let me use the knife. She kept worrying I was going to miss the carrot and cut a finger off.
“Nope.” I waved the knife in the air. “I’m good here.”
Matt cocked an eyebrow, leaning against the counter beside me. His arms crossed over his chest and he hooked one ankle over the other. He took me in, the knife, the cutting board, the carrots, the knife, the rest of the room, Theresa, and back to the knife.
He murmured, “Uh-huh. Yeah.”
I shot him a grin, lining up the first carrot. “Thirty minutes.”
“You’ll be done in thirty minutes?”
I shook my head, making the first slice through the middle of the carrot. “That’s how long it took me to talk Theresa into letting me help prepare lunch.”
“Theresa.” Matt turned to her.
She was standing beside another line cook, who was chopping up the rest of the vegetables for the soup. She didn’t look up, just started shaking her head. “Nope. Not going to happen.” She raised a hand up, pointing at me. “She came in this morning and started doing dishes. I kicked her out. She came back ten minutes later and started making coffee for everyone. I kicked her out again. Came back and you’re now seeing our compromise. She wanted to man the grill, and no way am I letting one of you Francis children near that grill. You all are good staying out of my kitchen, thank you very much.”
Matt gestured to me. “But she’s in here.”
“Yeah, ’cause she wouldn’t stop coming in—”
I spoke up, looking down. “It’s because I’m a Hayes.”
The other chopping stopped.
The guy at the grill stopped scraping.
The dishes were held suspended.
Theresa didn’t talk.
Matt didn’t say a word.
The only sound that filled the room was water boiling on the stove and the dishwasher machine doing a load.
I could feel how pregnant that silence was, but I kept chopping all the while, and I could almost feel my mom patting my back, saying, “You tell ’em, Bailey. You tell ’em how we Hayeses handle ourselves.”
I sucked in my breath, stopped seeing the carrot under my hand, felt the tears swelling up, but I’d gotten damn good at doing things without seeing. I sliced the carrot, moved it aside, and grabbed another. I lined it up and I was putting the knife through it when Matt coughed, clearing his throat.
He leaned in close and said quietly, “How about we go day drinking when you’re done with the carrots?”
I couldn’t do that.
I’d drink. Then I’d feel. Then I’d think.
I could handle it now, working, and feeling her. But if I started feeling my own emotions and then also feeling her, nope.
Not gonna happen.
But I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t explain it like that.
My throat was swelling up, and I couldn’t get any words out.
Theresa called, in that tone of hers, telling me she understood exactly what I was going through at this very moment. “Leave her be, Matthew. The time for day drinking will hit, but it ain’t here yet.”
Matt was quiet next to me.
I was tense, holding my breath, and then I heard him sigh, too. “Okay.” He patted my shoulder. “Call if you want to hang. I’m going to Naveah then.”
He left.
Those tears didn’t fall.
I never stopped cutting the carrots.
That seemed important to me for some reason.
Kash
I was leaving a meeting and going to another meeting when my phone started ringing. Glancing down, seeing it was Matt calling, and knowing he was back at the Chesapeake, I answered just as I was sliding into the back of the SUV.
“Yeah?”
Josh shut my door and went around to the front passenger side. I was alone in the back and I heard a biting greeting: “She’s cutting carrots, Kash.”
I frowned.
“Bailey?”
He snapped, “No. Payton. Yes, Bailey. I wanted her to go to Naveah with me today, and she wouldn’t stop cutting those fucking carrots. Carrots. She’s begging to work in the kitchen. Theresa couldn’t get rid of her this morning, so she put her to work. My sister, who is one of the smartest people I know—and I come from a family of geniuses—is dicing through carrots like her life depends on it. What the fuck, Kash? What the fuck?”