“Are we seriously out of almond milk again?” she asked as she came into the kitchen that morning. The way she said it got on my nerves immediately. It was accusatory and rude.
“If there’s none in there, I suppose so. I wouldn’t know,” I said, trying to keep my composure as I scrolled through the news on my laptop.
“You should know, with the shakes you’ve been making,” Jaz said, referring to the cup beside me that contained my protein shake.
“I only used your almond milk for one of these, actually,” I said. “That was two days ago. I asked you before I used it. This is regular milk and water, thank you very much.”
She made a grunting sound in response and went to the hanging pots and pans above the kitchen island.
“Well, without almond milk, I can’t make anything I wanted, so I am just going to start a pasta sauce and skip breakfast,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, turning my attention back to the news on my laptop.
“That is, if you didn’t eat the last of the ground beef,” Jaz muttered.
“I don’t eat ground beef usually,” I said. “Only in sauces. You know that.”
“I don’t know what you eat these days,” she said, feigning ignorance.
“Yes, you do,” I said. “We talked about it when you mentioned you might want to go vegetarian again and bought almond milk for the house. I said I do meatless every other day and that I rarely eat ground beef anymore.”
She sighed and huffed at the same time. It was her classic response to being told she was wrong about something and had no other argument.
That bickering had led to more when I dared to stir the beef so it wouldn’t burn in the pan and she claimed that I was going behind her to screw up her sauce on purpose. A few more choice words and an accusation or two, and she had stomped away to her room while the tomato sauce simmered in the pan and began to thicken and reduce.
I was glad I was going to be getting out of the house. I had a day trip planned for a local winery that wanted my expertise before they did a full tasting of their latest batch. It was a couple that worked there that I had been working with for years, so it was no shock that they invited me out to try their wine before they let everyone else do it. It was an honor, in fact. But I just wasn’t feeling it, as much as I wanted to get out of the house and away from Jaz for a few hours.
I would rather be going to the King Vineyard. That wasn’t even a question. Even if it meant completely blowing up everything I said in our email correspondence, it would be worth it to be on their beautiful grounds and perhaps spend a little more time in the cute little A-frame home of Kane’s.
Patience was what I needed. I would be going there soon enough, and I still didn’t know exactly how I was going to talk to Kane anyway. I spent a few trips to the store in my car going over opening salvos, practicing responses to questions and coaching myself to answer truthfully while also letting it be known that I was upset about it. I could only hope that I had the guts to do that and not just end up tumbling into his bed again.
Not that I would be too sad at having another round with him in the sack. It would just make things infinitely more complicated. A problem for future Danica that she would really hate past Danica for.
Milling around the house until I had to leave, I paid special attention not to give Jaz any reason to come out of her room and start yelling again. I was able to grab a shower with a decent amount of hot water, then got dressed and ready to leave. As I passed Jaz’s door, it opened, and she stuck her head out.
“You going to work?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
She shuffled her feet and looked back up at me.
“I’m sorry about earlier. Will you grab me some almond milk on the way home?” she asked.
“Thank you,” I said. “Of course. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. It shouldn’t take long.”
She nodded and shut the door again, going back into her room. I could see in the brief second that it was open that she had been sleeping. I assumed she would go right back to that when I was gone. It was just as well. Our arguments might last a few weeks here, but the rest of our lives would be spent helping to raise her daughter, and we would eventually need to bury the hatchet to deal with the teenage version of Jaz that was bound to come out.