of the cheese mixture and tuck it into the shells like this.” She does exactly as she says and stuffs the shell before lining it into the large dish. “Okay, your turn.”
I take an unsteady hand, scooping the cheese mixture and tuck it into the shell with my large, shaky hands, dripping the concoction all over the shell, as well as my fingers, in the process.
Fuck, this is hard,” I say, placing my messy ass, deflated shell next to her perfectly plump one.
She giggles, “It’s the hands. Your hands are too big.”
I attempt one more because I offered to help, but after the second disastrous shell, I’ve all but given up.
“I’ll make the garlic bread,” I nod, washing my hands of cheese.
Cole shakes her head with a simple smile, finishing up the rest of the stuffed shells and coating them in a delicious smelling sauce. She pops them into the oven as I clean the dishes. After we clean up the kitchen, I set the table.
“So just us four?” I ask, setting the plates out.
“Three.”
“Hawke isn’t coming?”
We haven’t talked much these past few days. Or should I say, he hasn’t talked much to me. He’s still going through his thing, the disappointment, and I get it. Not only did my little DUI disappoint him, it brought back some old memories. Wounds that were only recently healed.
I came out with a hefty fine that will require me to sell the rest of my stash in order to cover the cost. I also have a first offender DUI class I need to take to learn how not to be an idiot and drive drunk. It could be so much worse, it really could. Luckily, my record is pretty clean. Smooth talker, remember? You wouldn’t believe what I’ve maneuvered out of.
Even so, I can’t blame Hawke for being upset. However, I also know there isn’t much I can do to change things. I can’t prove him wrong, not today anyway. Things like that take time. The kind of time a summer with them here in Cali doesn’t provide.
“No, he’ll be here,” she answers quickly, wiping the counter down with a wet rag.
She’s purposely not making eye contact.
“So…the person we are cooking for and celebrating isn’t coming? I’m confused, Cole.”
She pauses as she stands, facing the sink before throwing the towel she was using into it abruptly. I see her chest expand with air, then slowly deflate as her arms cross over her abdomen. I can tell she’s going through it. She’s clearly upset. I walk around the kitchen island, leaning back against the opposite counter, facing her.
“What’s up? Why does she hate her birthday?” I ask plainly.
That’s clearly what’s bothering her. So I ask her to just get it all out. Put it all on the table.
She tightens her jaw, swallowing before finally looking up at me. The direct pain in her eyes surprises me. It’s not what I was expecting. I lower my brows, my lips parting, wanting to say something but finding the words caught in my throat.
A tear falls from her eye as the front door opens. She wipes it quickly, clearing her throat as she stands and brushes something off the bottom of her shirt.
“Co-Co!” Hawke’s voice booms from the foyer, followed by the sound of boots being kicking off. “Baby girl? Where are you?”
He comes around the corner of the hallway, pausing once he sees us. He has a bouquet in his hand and two bottles of wine in the other. Cole smiles, taking the flowers from him as they greet each other, giving kisses while Hawke holds her face to his. He’s acting oddly sweet to her, considering it’s her sister’s birthday.
“Has she called you back?” he asks in a low voice.
“No,” she responds, sounding sad.
Hawke sighs, setting the stuff on the counter and pulling her into his chest, rubbing her back as she begins crying.
“It’s alright baby. I’m here now.” He comforts her, then connects eyes with me.
I look away, running my hand along my neck, trying to not interrupt their private moment yet feeling totally awkward being stuck in the kitchen for it.
“I’m just gonna go wash my face real quick.” Cole sniffs before Hawke nods, kissing her forehead.
“Love you.”
She heads towards the bathroom as I look up at Hawke again. He’s rubbing his forehead between his thumb and forefinger.
“Everything alright?” I ask softly.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “It’s just always a bad day.”
He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, walking over to lean against the counter opposite me, looking all mopey and shit.
What the hell is going on? Why is her birthday a bad day? Like, what the fuck? Yeah, getting older sucks, I get it, but Jesus, let’s eat some fucking cake and chill or something. I’ve never seen such depressing shit.
I must be making a crazy-looking face at him, because he pauses just before the bottle of water reaches his lips.
“Their mother died three years ago today,” he says, sensing my confusion, before taking a sip.
I blow a large puff of air through my lips while running a hand through my hair. I had no idea.
“Well, shit. That’ll ruin a birthday,” I respond, making a pained face for them without thinking.
Hawke shakes his head at me, then sighs again.
“It’s hard. On all of them. Cole tries to make it better, tries to separate Jo’s birthday from the tragedy and attempts to celebrate, but it’s useless. Jo doesn’t deal with it well.”
I’m not letting the fact that he called it a tragedy slip past me.
“I mean, not to sound harsh, but why do Han’s feelings matter more than Cole’s? They both lost her. Shouldn’t they be connecting more over this?”
“Han found her.”
There it is.
When you hear that someone found someone, you can only assume the worst. I’ve known a fragment of their family life since hanging out with Cole more. I know she hates her dad because he cheated on her mom with some bitch named Nicole, hence the need for the name change, but now this? I had no idea their mother had passed away. They don’t talk about it. At all. And I find that oddly strange. By the sounds of the situation, it’s worse than I can imagine, darker perhaps.
“Fuck,” I say, running my hands down my face.
“Tell me about it,” Hawke comments, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Cole comes out of the bathroom, looking from me to Hawke, then back to the oven.
“Well, let’s eat some good food and get drunk off this wine, huh?”
I grin lightly at her, loving that she can just pull herself out of her pain with ease, then look over at Hawke. He’s gazing at her with such adoration. One look, and I can tell they’re on the same wavelength. He knew what this day does to her, whether she’s willing to open up about it or not. Cole’s a strong girl. She internalizes a lot, but Hawke draws it out of her the way she needs. As weak as this makes me sound, I literally love the two of them together. They have such mutual respect and deep-rooted love for one another that seems to transcend. Fucking soulmates if I ever saw ‘em.
Han never showed.
She never showed, and it was expected.
I stared at her empty plate as we ate and chatted about topics totally unrelated to the circumstance at hand. I wondered to myself about Han, what she went through, what she saw. I wondered who she was before this, the type of person she was before her life became so intertwined with death and suffering. I wondered about the way that it changed her afterwards, and how it’s deeply affecting her today.
I wonder where she is right now. Not even just physically, but mentally. Which dark rabbit hole did she descend into to avoid her reality? Today is the kind of day that requires you to bend time. I’m sure she’s alone and I’m not sure that’s such a good thing anymore. I want to reach her again. Be the hand she needs to hold on to. As strange as it sounds, I feel like I’m the only one who can understand her. I want to be there for her in a way no one else can. I need to get to her.
After dinner, I tell Cam and Cole I need to run an errand. So, I get in my car and make my way to an unfamiliar place.
A flower shop.
Like Hawke, I knew flowers could cheer a woman up when feeling down. Unlike Hawke, the prettiest, most alluring flowers were not on my agenda. Finding the lady behind the desk, she looks up from behind her magazine, eyeing me up and down suspiciously before asking if I needed something.
Her name on her conveniently placed name tag is Brenda. She looks like a Brenda with her short, round, judgey self and her bowl cut that went out in the 80s. She’s judging me already, eyes narrowed, lips pursed together, trying to look intimidating as if she thinks I’m here to rob the shop. I get it. I don’t look like I’m supposed to be alive in the daylight, but damn Brenda, give a dude a break.
“Can I buy your most dead plant?”
Her eyes narrow as she cocks her head to the side, completely confused by my request.
“Most dead?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for a plant that’s on its way out. Dried up. Brown. Crunchy.”
Her face contorts at each adjective I drop before she’s left with a horrifyingly wrinkled expression.
“Uh, let me see what I have in the back.”
After a few minutes of waiting by the counter, sniffing some of the blooming flowers they offer, she finally reappears with a pot containing some type of decaying, leafy plant.
“It’s a fiddle leaf fig. Tried to bring it back, but it was too far gone.”
“I’d say,” I comment, wrinkling my nose while touching the yellowish brown leaves barely clinging to the dried out stalk. “How much?”
“You’re kidding right?”
I raise my brows, then lower them, looking from side to side.
“Just take it. I literally pulled it out of the dumpster,” she scoffs, shaking her head.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I wiggle my brows at her, flashing her a wink with my signature drop-them-panties smile.
Brenda needs to get some dick. This much is clear.
She nods while studying me. I understand she can’t figure me out and, to my surprise, I like it. Most people can figure me out at the drop of a hat. I’m loud and generally open with who I am and what I want, but maybe some of that mysteriousness is seeping over into my life now. I feel like Han.
I take the fiddle fig thing and prop it under my arm, heading out to my car. I buckle it into the front seat and admire it with a grin.
“This’ll do just fine.”
