Page 20

Darko—

It’s Tuesday night, and Lizzie and I are in the school gymnasium, sitting on too hard bleachers, watching Eli’s basketball game.

The cinder block walls, the shiny wood floors, and basketball hoops that rise and flatten against the ceiling… It takes me back to my own school days. The school’s name and mascot are painted on the wall and the middle of the court floor. Banners hang, signifying the team’s last three winning seasons.

The sound of running feet and squeaky sneakers carries to us. The referee blows his whistle and calls a foul, and the buzzer goes off, indicating the end of the period.

The coach yells to the team to gather around him, and Eli jogs off-court, guzzling water as the coach talks to them.

“He’s been doing great, hasn’t he?” Lizzie says over the crowd noise.

“He has, and the coach has put him in for a good amount of time.”

“I hear there’s a cheerleader he’s interested in. He said her name is Ginny.”

I scan the cheerleaders on the side of the court, their pompoms rustling. I point at the blonde at the end. “That’s the one he met in the office the day I enrolled him.”

“She’s cute,” Lizzie observes, then tips her popcorn box toward me. “Want some?”

I take a scoop and toss a piece into the air, catching it in my mouth.

She grins, and I feel like a kid again.

“Wanna make a bet?” I ask.

“What kind of bet?”

“If Eli makes a three pointer, you make us dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh, really? You think I can cook, huh?”

“I’m hoping so.”

“A three-pointer? I don’t know. Your kid’s pretty good.”

“He is.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll take us out to dinner.”

“Dinner out… that kind of makes me want to cheer against him.” She gives me the side-eye. “Okay. It’s a bet.”

Soon the teams are on the court, and spectators clap and shout.

A player passes the ball onto the court, and Eli takes it down. The sound of the basketball bouncing as he dribbles to the net reverberates in my chest. That’s my boy. I still can’t believe it sometimes. Pride swells in my chest. No matter if he wins or loses, he’s playing a great game.

The teams race up and down the court every time possession of the ball changes hands. Eli is good, and he’s always putting himself in a strategic position.

He sets up a teammate for a shot. The kid misses, but it’s rebounded by another of his teammates, and they keep possession. It’s passed to Eli, and he’s behind the three-point line. He jumps up and shoots.

I hold my breath, coming to my feet, and everything seems like it happens in slow motion. The ball arcs through the air. It swishes through the net, and the place erupts in a tumult of shrieks and fists in the air, my own included.

Lizzie jumps and screams at my side.

“Guess you’re making us dinner,” I tease.

“Guess so. But it’s worth it to see him get that basket.”

Twenty minutes later, Eli’s team wins the game, and they slap each other's hands.

Lizzie and I stand to file down the bleachers, and I see Eli lift a hand toward the cute cheerleader, a huge grin on his face.

The next evening, Lizzie shows up at my door with a paper grocery bag.

I grin, swinging the door open and taking it from her. “Come on in.”

She follows me to the kitchen, and I help her with her coat, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs.

She unpacks the bag, laying out ground beef, pasta, ricotta, mozzarella, parmesan, a jar of sauce, a bag of mixed salad greens and a loaf of French bread from her bag.

“Boy, you brought everything.”

“Not quite. I assume you have an egg, butter, and garlic, right?”

“Sure. What else do you need?” I ask.

“A 9x13 inch baking dish. A large pot to boil water. A strainer, a mixing bowl.”

I get her everything and set the oven to the temperature she tells me.

“Go.” She shoos me out of the kitchen. “I don’t need someone watching over my shoulder. It makes me nervous.”

“Would you like a drink? I picked up some wine for the occasion.”

“Maybe with dinner. Not while I cook.”

“All right. Let me know if you need me.” I return to the living room and watch some TV, then text Eli to make sure he’ll be home soon.

After a while, I peek around the corner, and my eyes widen, then I step back and text Kate.

ME: Are you sure she knows how to cook?

I ease around the corner, snap a photo of the mess in my kitchen and text it to her.

KATE: Ooo. Ziti. Can I come over?

ME: No

I close the screen and spot Eli getting dropped off by his teammate’s mother.

“I’m going outside and shoot some hoops with Eli,” I call out.

“Okay, it should be done in about half an hour.” I hear the oven door slam.

I’m shooting a basket when Lizzie opens the back door and shouts out to us. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Great. I’m starved,” Eli says.

Lizzie retreats to the kitchen, and I put a sweaty arm around my son’s shoulders and pull him close.

“Eli, no matter how this meal tastes, you better choke it down and tell her it's great. Understand?”

He meets my eyes. “You think it’s going to suck?”

“I don’t know. But if it does, we’re not going to let her know, are we?”

“I won’t tell her. There will be bread and salad, at least. Right?”

I slap his shoulder. “Right, son.”

When we enter, she’s set the dining room table, and there’s bread in a basket, salad in a big bowl, and a steaming baking dish sitting on an oven mitt.

“I didn’t see any trivets,” she says.

“What’s a trivet?” Eli asks.

“Something you set hot baking dishes on to protect a table,” I reply, then look at her. “Sorry. I don’t have any.”

“I figured as much.”

I pull the chair at the head of the table out for her. “Please. Sit, Lizzie.” I take a seat to her left, and Eli takes the right.

“Um, it looks great. Thanks for cooking for us,” Eli says.

“You’re welcome. I hope you like it.” Lizzie reaches for the basket of bread and holds it out to him.

We dish up, and I scoop a bit, noticing Eli is waiting for me to be the test rat. I smile at Lizzie and shove my fork in my mouth, preparing for the worst. Flavor bursts upon my tongue, and I moan and talk around the mouthful. “My God… This is fantastic.”

Her face lights up. “You like it? Really?”

“Hell, yeah. It’s delicious, Lizzie. You’re a fantastic cook. You’ve been hiding the talent.”

Eli shoves a bite hesitantly in his mouth, not completely trusting if I’m being sincere or just giving an academy award performance.

“This is good,” he says, almost like he’s surprised, and I chuckle.

“Were you expecting otherwise, my boy?” I glance at my empty wineglass. “Oh, sorry. I forgot the wine.” Hopping up, I grab the bottle and opener and pop the cork, then pour. Raising my glass, I propose a toast. “To Lizzie and her amazing cooking skills.”

She clinks her glass to mine. “Thank you, but it’s just ziti.”

“Just ziti? This is the best meal I’ve had in ages,” I profess. “Do you enjoy cooking or was this a chore for you?”

“I enjoy it. I think I forgot how much. I haven’t done it lately with it being just myself. It’s no fun cooking for one.”

I study her eyes. There was happiness a moment ago, but now it’s been replaced by sadness.

“I wish you could cook for us every night. Dad sucks at it,” Eli states.

“Thanks a lot,” I reply with a huffed laugh. “He’s right, though. I do… What was the word? Suck at it.”

“Well, maybe I’ll have to make you a meal again sometime,” Lizzie offers.

Bringing my wineglass to my mouth, I study her and Eli. He looks happy, not at all uncomfortable with her here.

The two of them chat about the game, and she teases him about the cute cheerleader, and he blushes. She manages to talk to him in a way I can’t—the way a mother would talk to a son. He needs that, and it dawns on me that perhaps in their shared time together at the shop in the afternoons, she’s providing that for him in some small way.

I wonder what he thought yesterday when he looked up in the bleachers and saw the two of us sitting together, come to see a game like a real set of parents would do.

He’d spotted us and waved early on, like I remember doing when I saw my own parents at a school play in third grade. There was fear as I searched the crowd, and then happiness and relief when I found them and knew they’d cared enough to come. I saw that last night on my own boy’s face.

We finish dinner and clear the table. I run some hot water and fill the sink, squirting some soap in until there’s an inch of suds on the top. Then I toss a dish rag to Eli.

“Me?” he whines. “Why do I have to do the dishes?”

“Because Lizzie cooked for you, and she and I are taking a walk.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, but steps up to the task.

I grab her coat and hold it out for her to slip her arms in, then shrug into my own.

Once we’re outside, Lizzie falls in beside me, and I walk us down the block and take a right, heading toward Main. My house isn’t too far from my garage, which is handy.

“It’s a pretty night,” she says, staring at the cloudless starry sky.

“It is,” I agree. “Won’t be too much longer before winter hits us with some snow. I can feel it in the air.”

“I always love the first snow.” She spins in a circle. “It’s magical.”

I chuckle. “It is when you don’t have to shovel it.”

“Okay, Grinch. Suck the fun out of it,” she teases.

“If you like snow, I’ll do my best to be happy when it comes. I’ll even throw the garage doors open like that movie…” I snap my fingers. “What’s it called? The one with Bing Crosby.”

“White Christmas?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. That was always my favorite part… when the snow finally comes.”

“You, Mr. Badass Biker, watch Christmas movies?”

“See? I’m not a Grinch.”

“Is it okay we left your son alone?”

“He’s fine. We won’t be gone long.”

We reach Main, and my brows lift. “Wow. Guess I haven’t been down here lately. They’ve been busy.”

The street is decorated with lights strung across the road, and wreaths and bows on every lamppost.

“It’s so beautiful. Christmas is my favorite time of year,” Lizzie whispers, then closes her mouth and frowns, and I can’t help wondering if she’s thinking about how this Christmas will be different.

“Got something I want to ask you,” I say, and she turns her attention to me, and we walk on.

“Okay.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Kate told me you were having an estate sale next weekend.”

She looks forward. “I am. Is that what you wanted to talk about? My estate sale?”

“No, actually. That day Eli and I came by your house and your mother-in-law was there…”

“Yes?”

“Look, it’s not my business, but I saw a foreclosure notice on the desk.”

She huffs out a breath, her body language completely changing, and I grab her arm, bringing her around.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you or pry—”

“Oh, really? Seems like it.”

“I’m worried about you, Lizzie.”

“Well, don’t. I’m fine.”

“Are you? Do you already have plans? Have you signed a lease for an apartment yet or anything?”

Her shoulders slump. “Not yet.”

“I want to make you a proposition,” I begin, but when I see the look on her face, I change tactics. “Not a proposition. It’s more of an idea I had.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.”

“Just listen, okay? Then you can shoot it down.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“I, uh, was wondering if you’d like to stay with us—Eli and me. Free room and board in exchange for you cooking us dinner every night. I’ve got a third bedroom, and you can have the hall bath all to yourself.” I lift my palms up. “No strings. I swear.”

“You’ve lost your mind.” She turns and starts walking briskly, and I fall in beside her.

“I’m just askin’ you to think about it. ‘Cause here’s the thing. Having you at the table tonight… I saw a light in Eli’s eyes that hasn’t been there in weeks. He’s formed some kind of a bond with you, and I think it’s helping him.”

“And that’s the only reason for this offer of yours?” she asks.

“You want the truth?”

“No, lie to me.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then don’t ask me stupid questions.”

“The truth is I like having you around, too.”

She huffs a laugh.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“I suppose not. But you admit it like you’re choking down cod liver oil. Is it that hard to tell me you like having me around?”

I can’t help the grin on my face. “Guess I’m not very good at this shit.”

“Spoken like a man.”

We pass a tattoo parlor, and she stares at it with a look in her eyes I can’t fathom. My brows draw together at the thought that occurs to me.

“What’s your tattoo, Lizzie?” I grin.

She walks on, passing the place. “You have enough ink for both of us, Darko. You don’t need to know about mine.” Then she frowns. “Do you use that place?”

“Main Ink? Nope. I’ve got a guy I use; works out of his house.”

“What’s his name?”

“Randall. Why?” My answer seems to put her at ease.

“No reason.”

We cross a side street and keep walking another block until Lizzie lifts her chin to the diner on the corner. “This is Kate’s mother’s place.”

Connie’s Corner Café. I know it well. “I brought Eli here when he first came to town.” Music carries to us from inside. Brenda Lee is singing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree. “Want to go inside? Get some coffee?”

“We should get back.”

“You sure?”

She nods and turns around.

We walk the three blocks to my house, and when we get to the corner, she twirls around the street sign pole like a kid.

Something propels me forward and makes me step into her path and capture her mouth with mine. The kiss doesn’t last long, because she steps back in shock, but it’s enough to know I want more someday.

“Why did you do that?” she whispers.

“I thought there was something happening between us. Was I wrong?”

“I should go,” she murmurs, stepping away.

“Lizzie, wait.” But she doesn’t. She jogs to her car and clicks the locks, only pausing long enough in the open door for a last remark.

“Tell Eli I said goodbye.”

Then she slips inside and reverses out of my drive.

I stand there, watching her taillights disappear down the street and call myself three kinds of idiot.