Her chin jerked as her green eyes reveled a chasm of broken promises. “If anything, our parents have distilled the opposite of that. You can’t trust anybody, not even your family.”
A nurse bustled into the room, carrying a tray of hospital food. “We have a delicious cheese sandwich and green Jell-O today.”
Sumiko scowled. “I want pills.”
“Lunch first.”
The tray was set in front of her and the Jell-O jiggled unnaturally. I could sense Sumiko was done with having visitors.
Grabbing my purse, I stood. “I’ll be by later tomorrow. Enjoy your lunch.”
She didn’t acknowledge me. Defeated, my body dragged itself out into the artificially lit hallway. With Sumiko, her darkness overran the small amount of light that still burned inside her. I was afraid one day the darkness would take over completely.
After Andrew and I left the hospital, we found ourselves in an old-timey diner across the street. I drowned my sorrows in a stack of pancakes while Andrew sipped a cup of green tea. His fingers wrapped around the mug and steam fogged up his glasses. They had become such an integral part of his identity, at times I forgot he wore them.
Andrew grimaced as I dragged a piece of bacon through a pool of maple syrup. “That’s really gross.”
My fork hovered over my plate. “Are you kidding me? It’s amazing. Haven’t you had maple smoked bacon? It’s basically the same thing.”
“I wasn’t allowed to eat bacon growing up.”
I almost dropped dead in shock. A child shouldn’t be deprived of delicious bacon.
“So let me get this straight.” I said. “You don’t text, you don’t eat bacon, you used a creepy abounded house as your fort, any other weird facts I should know about you?”
Andrew tapped the side of mug while he thought. “I can hold my breath for two minutes under water.”
“Seriously? What are you—part fish?”
“My mom forced to me to take a sport. She gave me three options: Football, field and track, or swim. I chose to join the swim team. It was the sport that had the lowest chance of me tripping over my feet.”
“A little gawky in high school, were you?”
“I was known as the school klutz.”
An image of a teenage Andrew, glasses perched on his nose, books clutched to his chest as he attempted to wrangle in his long limbs had me giggling. I wished we had met back then. The outcast and the klutz was a romantic comedy waiting to happen.
“How about you? Did you take any sports?” Andrew asked.
I snorted. “Me? Sports? That’s like asking if cheetahs can survive in the streets of Los Angeles.”
“So I’ll take that as a no?”
“A big fat no. I was that girl who always chose the seat in the back and spent more time in her own head than in reality.”
“I bet you had purple hair and those spiky bracelets around your wrist.”
Making a swirl in my pancake syrup, I rolled my eyes at the clique. “Not every loner in school is a Goth, although, yes I did have purple hair. Monica and I first dyed it blue but with my tiny stature, I was afraid people would mistake me as a Smurf.”
Andrew choked on his green tea as he laughed. He dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “Did you and Monica tend the same high school?”
“We did when I lived in Detroit. My mom as you know wasn’t a pillar of stability. We moved around a lot. There was one year when she dragged me to Seattle, Los Angeles, and Portland, looking for the richest men. It was a wild goose chase.”
Andrew had already expressed his disdain for my mother. However, whenever her name came up, his face became sympathetic—just a hair away from pity. Since it was Andrew, I let it slide. Giving up my last piece of bacon to him, I pushed my plate away.
I pointed to the bacon. “Eat that and consider your life changed for the better.”
He picked up the pork, examined it and bit a small piece off the end. “Holy crap.” He took another bite then demolished the entire slice. “I might have to order another plateful.”
“You’re welcome. Is there a reason why your mom didn’t allow pork in the house?”
“She considered it inhumane to eat pigs since they are as smart as humans. Plus, she lived on a farm growing up and always got too attached to the animals her family raised.”
“Where did she grow up?”
“Amish Country.”
That was an unexpected twist. “Was she raised Amish?”
“Yeah. She met my dad during her Rumspringa, which in the Amish religion is when you venture into the world for the first time.”
“Seriously? How did they meet?”
He whacked a sugar packet against the side of table. Tearing it open, he dumped the white crystals into the cup. “They met at a coffee shop when their orders got swapped. She got his Americano and he got her full fat latte.”
“We met at a coffee shop too. Talk about coincidence.”
“Yeah but the difference is that you didn’t have to leave your whole family for me.” He said bluntly. “My mom chose my father over the only life she had known.”
“It seems like it has worked out.”
My comment garnered a smile. “It has. Their thirtieth wedding anniversary is this coming Friday. Would you like to come? I’m driving up to their vacation home and would love some company.”
I hadn’t met any of my boyfriends’ parents before. It seemed like a huge step reserved for when the relationship has passed the six-month mark. Andrew and I hadn’t even passed the two-week mark. Nonetheless, I would love to meet the people that shaped him into the incredible man he was.
Nerves jingled in my stomach. “Is your whole family going to be there?”
“Obviously my mom’s side won’t, but my dad’s side, my older brother, and my youngest sister will be.”
“You have siblings?”
“Yup.” Pride was held in his voice as talked about them. “My younger sister is attending Yale as a sophomore. She is crazy smart like my father. My older brother works as a master carpenter and builds these incredible homes for wealthy people.”
“You never mentioned them before,” I said.
Andrew shrugged. “Not on purpose. We are close but this past year has been insane for all of us and weekly phone calls have slipped.”
“Weekly phone calls?”
“We would conference call each other on Sundays.”
Andrew’s family sounded like they belonged in those TV shows I watched as a kid where every member, including the dog, was happy and they all wore matching sweaters for Christmas.
A random thought occurred to me. “Did your grandma also give them a chunk of change as well?”
“Yes. My sister can’t access it until she is twenty-one, while my brother sunk it into starting his own business. Why?”
“Just wondering. Sometimes money can breed resentment.”
“Nah we all got our equal share and even if we didn’t, that’s not the kind of family we are.”
Deception was my family’s motto. Once again, I was reminded how vastly different Andrew and I were. God, what I was going to talk about with his parents? My mom was dead, my job as a shot girl made me sound like a floozy, and I didn’t lean left or right politically. Panic flared.
The waitress came by and cleaned the dirty plates off our table. “Anything else?” she asked.
As my mouth opened to speak, Andrew jumped in. “Can we get another side order of bacon and a slice of apple pie?”
“We have bacon apple pie. Do you want that?” The waitress snapped her gum as Andrew stared at her flummoxed. “The crust has bacon in it,” she explained.
“I’m good.”
She turned on her heels when Andrew spoke again.
“Actually, can you scrap the side of bacon? I’ll just have the slice of apple pie instead.”
The waitress acknowledged his order with a death glare. “Anything else?”