His 27
*so, Mr. Corsino is a kind of a pain in the ass, huh?” Liam exclaimed. He bit into his ice cream with great fervor as I watched. I took a small spoonful of mine and ate it.
When I had been leaving work, Liam had spotted me and begged me to go get ice cream. He was having a sweet craving. I didn’t particularly want to hang out with him, but I was having a craving, too. The encounter with Felix had been emotionally draining- I needed to fix it with some mint chocolate chip
We were seated in the small ice cream parlor in a corner. Liam had gotten a wont flavor of ice cream in the world.
en a waffle
cone with two scoops of rum and raisin. In my opinion, that was the
I shrugged. “He just got the wrong idea.”
“Did he yell at you after I left?”
I shook my head. “He just glared at me?”
Liam snorted. I laughed along with him, It wasn’t even that funny
“Sorry I got you in that situation.” He said, “I I didn’t m
mean to come off like that.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “No, we’re friends. It’s alright”
I took a big spoonful of my ice cream. My teeth tingled at the cold sensation.
“Hey, Flora,” Liam said suddenly. I looked at him, asking him to continue. “A friend of mine is throwing a party, tomorrow. You want to come?”
A party?
I had o
to one party in my life. It had ended with Felix dragging me out and yelling at me. Then I’d never been to a party again.
only ever been to
I didn’t even know if I liked partying.
But it’s not like I could go
staking time to answer, so I think Liam got the hint himself. “Or not. No worries, Flo
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Flo! You gave me a nickname.” I laughed.
He cocked his head to the side. “Is that okay?”
“Um, sure, Flo just reminds me of my period tracking app”
Liam made a disgusted face – his nose scrunched up, and his eyes got this look like he was begging me to never say the word period again. “Ugh, Now you’ve ruined it for me. Flora it is”
I giggled to myself. “You’ve such a guy, Liam,”
“I am a guy.” He mumbled
When
we were younger, Felix had gotten grossed out by my period in the beginning. I had, in fact, had my fi been eleven and he had been thirteen. We were playing in his house in his room. A board game, I think. He was teaching me how to play chess. I’d Mood up for something, and there had been a stain of blood on the white marble floor. I’d freaked out, thinking I was injured or had an infection or my first period around him. I remember I had something. My mother had told me about what periods were and how they worked, but for some reason that hadn’t popped into my mind. And then when it had. I had been so mortifed remember running away from Felix, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing and running into his mom. She’d stopped me and asked what the issue was, and then Felix had spoken from behind me, “She just got her period and is freaking out.”
And to that, I’d sobbed some more. But then Felix’s mom had taken me to my house and then both my mom and his mom schooled me about menstruation. For the first few times I got my period, Felix had felt kind of icky about it. As we grew up, he stopped and would buy me ice cream and fried chicken during that time. And treat me like I was somehow made of gloss.
I missed those simpler times every moment of every day.
“We should get back,” I told Liam. We were out during our lunch hours and needed to get back before they were over
101
car in silence. The drive was barely a few minutes, and I bade Liam goodbye before running back inside the house. Linda wasn’t in again. She was showing up less and less. I knew that was what was going to happen. I’d only been hired so Linda could train me before she stopped working. But she would sometimes not tell me before not showing up, and that got kind of annoying, sometimes.
I felt like ranting about it to someone, but Liam was my only friend at work. And he was her son so it made things pretty complicated,
Anyway, I was about to start prepping for Felix’s dinner, when he walked inside the kitchen. I stopped everything.
When be spotted me, his expression turned sour. “Where’s Linda?”
“It’s just me, today.” My voice was squeaky and timid.
He sighed. “Dinner will be for two people. Cook something nice.”
Two people? Was someone coming over? No, who was coming over?
Still, I nodded, pasting my best smile on my face. “What would you like?”
“Whatever,” his reply was offhanded as he started to leave. “And make dessert.”
I always made dessert. He just never ate it.
Questions ringing in my head, I got to work. I made herby rice, beef bourguignon, stuffed mushrooms, and roasted peppers. A variety of dishes to choose front. And there was freshly baked bread if he wanted any. For dessert, I made some chocolate mousse with a raspberry coulis. And to give him an option, I made a cherry cobbler again. Maybe this time he would eat it.
By the time I was done, I was tired and sweaty, and it was much past my working hours. But I didn’t mind. I cleaned up the kitchen, placed the food in containers, and left a note with instructions on how to warm the food and plate it up, drawing a cute picture for each dish. I liked cooking. It was therapeutic and left me elated and joyful. Finally done, I left the kitchen, switching the lights off behind me. I hurriedly made my way from the kitchen to the front door, excited to finally head home, take a long, hot shower, and be done for the day.
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