I make it to my room and strip down to my boxers. My pants get stuck around my feet, and I almost tumble to the floor. Is the room wobbly or is it me?
I fall to the bed and feel the plush mattress suck me in. As I’m drifting off to sleep, Kirsten’s words keep ringing in my ears.
Love will find you at a time and place when you least expect it.
Sam
Present
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Age 24
I HEAR THE BACK DOOR SLAM, and I’m startled awake. I’m sprawled out on the large couch in the den, and I crane my neck to see if Kai’s still asleep. He’s out cold in the pack and play in the middle of the floor.
“Sam?” Aunt Peggy says from the kitchen.
I stretch and sit up. What time is it? I find the clock on the wall and see it’s almost five o’clock.
“I’ll be right there,” I say quietly and stand up.
When I get to the kitchen, Aunt Peggy is unloading groceries. “Hi,” she says through a warm smile. “I’m surprised to see you up here. Isn’t it time for Kai’s occupational therapy?” Garrett has a home gym downstairs in the basement that we’ve rearranged to make into Kai’s play area. We moved out all of Garrett’s exercise equipment and filled the room with padded floors and climbing toys. His therapist comes to the house two times a week and today is usually one of those days. We’re working on helping strengthen and tone his arm and leg muscles to counteract the tightening of his back. For many months, his frequent crying and pain caused him to overdevelop the muscles in his neck and back and neglect his arms and legs. Since developmentally, he should start crawling in a month or two, we need to make sure he stays on track.
“No, Nadia had to cancel today. She’s sick.” I help her empty the bags.
“Oh, that’s too bad. The day after OT, Kai tends to have a great day,” she says.
“That’s because Nadia works him out hard,” I chuckle. “He’s physically exhausted after his therapy sessions.”
“Is he asleep?” she asks.
I look over my shoulder to check on him. “Yes, we both passed out about an hour ago.” I massage my lower back and then stretch my arms into the air. “That couch is not comfortable.”
“Neither is that chair upstairs, but you sleep in it more than you do the bed,” she replies and closes the refrigerator.
She looks at her watch. “Darn,” she says and shakes her head.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It looks like I’m going to miss my hair appointment.”
“Why is that? You still have time, right?”
“I told Garrett I would make him dinner tonight.”
“Really? I haven’t seen you cook for him in a while. He can take care of himself,” I say and slide onto the bar stool.
“Sam, that boy doesn’t cook. You know better than that. I fill his refrigerator and freezer with tons of food for him to heat up. I’ve been doing it for years. Besides, I promised him I would make him something tonight because Heath is coming to work on some band stuff.”
“I’ll do it. You go and get your hair done. You deserve it,” I grin, and she doesn’t waste any time gathering her things. She hugs me quickly and heads toward the front door.
“Thank you! See you tomorrow,” she calls out, and she’s gone without even telling me what she was planning to feed them. Crap.
I look into the den again to make sure Kai is still asleep and begin rummaging through cabinets. I find flour and a couple of jars of sauce. Pizza. I can do that.
Now I need to Google how to make dough. As I’m swiping through my phone, Garrett comes in from the garage door into the kitchen. “Hey,” he says, surprised to see me.
“Hi.” I find the flour recipe and place my phone down on the center island.
“I hope you and Heath like pizza,” I say and grab the olive oil from the cabinet.
“Uh, yeah we like pizza. Why?” he looks puzzled and tosses his keys onto the counter.
“Aunt Peggy said she was supposed to cook for you both tonight and she had to run out, so now I’m cooking for you.”
“You don’t have to cook for me, Sam,” he says and walks toward me.
“What are you guys going to eat then?” I ask.
“There’s been a change of plans. Heath can’t make it, so I’m solo tonight.” He grins and he notices the flour and oil. “You’re going to make homemade pizza?” His eyes light up. “I haven’t had homemade pizza in forever.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Me either,” I say and brush past him to find the rest of the ingredients I’ll need to make the dough. “I hope you have yeast here,” I say.
“What?” he asks.
“Yeast. I need yeast for the dough.” I open the pantry and immediately find all of the baking supplies. You can tell my aunt is in charge of food shopping and organizing the pantry; it makes it easy to find things. “Here it is,” I say and swipe the small packet from a plastic bin on the shelf.
He raises his hands in the air and says, “I’m no good here. This is all you. But you really don’t have to make me anything. I can order something.”
Everything else I need is within reach, and I have the ingredients arranged on the center island, ready for me.
“Where’s Kai?” he asks.
“In there. Asleep.” I motion toward the den and pick up my phone. He’s watching me with amusement as I re-read the recipe. I open the flour, measure out what’s needed for the dough, and dump it into the stainless steel bowl in front of me.
“How was he today?” he asks.
I look up and swipe my hand across my forehead. I should have put my hair up.
“His day was okay,” I say and dump the rest of the ingredients into the bowl.
“Just okay?” He looks disappointed. “Where’s Nadia?” he asks, and I look up again. A large curl has fallen in front of my face, partially blocking my view of him. I attempt to brush it away and at the same time get the flour mixture on myself. His smile grows and he takes a couple of steps toward me.
“She had to cancel tonight,” I say and tense up as he gets closer. Why is he looking at me like that? “And Kai had his ups and downs.”
“You’ve got… something on your face.” He grins as he reaches out. He softly brushes the flour from my face, and I feel like I’m swaying in place.
“Th—thanks,” I stammer as he tucks the nuisance curl behind my ear. His hand lingers for a moment and then he steps away.
“I think I should help,” he says. “You’re a bit of a mess already.”
“Why don’t you grate the cheese? There’s a brick of mozzarella inside the top drawer in the refrigerator.” I assemble the hand mixer and plug it in.
“Do I have a cheese grater?” he asks, and I try to stifle a giggle.
“You really don’t spend much time in your own kitchen, do you?” I ask.
“I’m in here all the time. I just don’t know where anything is. Your aunt makes sure I don’t have to worry about any of that.” He seems embarrassed and drops his head.
I tap the drawer next to me. “Cheese grater’s in here. It’s a flat, rectangular, metal thingy,” I say, just in case he’s never seen one before.
“I know what a cheese grater looks like, Sam. I just didn’t realize I had one.” He brushes past me and opens the drawer. “See.” He points. “It’s right there.” He’s standing next to me and starts his chore. I smirk as I turn on the mixer. His elbow bumps into mine as he’s working, but I don’t move.
“Sorry,” he says, and I look over at him. Now he’s grinning, and I know that I didn’t really hurt his feelings. I bump my elbow into his on purpose and he smiles. He’s feverishly grating the cheese, and soon a large pile is on the plate in front of him.