Kylee had begun her descent down the stairs to check on dinner. Molly was in the middle of the staircase, likely headed to her room. The two girls met in the middle.
Molly looked up at her mother. Her round face was contorted in what could only be described as aghast. Kylee looked down at herself in search of what
her daughter had found so offensive.
After coming home from a long day of lesson building and problem creating, Kylee had done what she always did. She’d kicked off her heels, slipped out of her confining dress skirt, unbuttoned her starched blouse, discarded her binding bra, and slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a graphic t-shirt.
“He’ll be here any minute,” said Molly. “You should change. And shower. And for goodness sake put on some makeup. Ricky Wright, Jr.’s mom always has a ton on first thing in the morning when she drops him off.”
“What?”
Kylee’s head was spinning. Just what was her daughter talking about? Ricky Wright? The only Ricky Wright Kylee knew was the old high school quarterback. She’d heard the rising star had flamed out in college. But she’d also heard that Ricky and Iman Hilson, Adalia’s real live mean girl, had had a kid. A boy, if Kylee remembered right. But what did Ricky and Iman’s kid have to do with Kylee needing a shower and some makeup?
Kylee leaned against the banister and crossed her arms over her chest. “Molly, what’s going on?”
Molly rubbed at a non-existent mark on the wall. “I just think you should look your best tonight when Principal Kidd comes over. You always make me get cleaned and presentable before I go to school every morning. Well, school is coming to our house so you should…” Molly wrinkled her nose and waved her hand at her mom in a shooing motion. “You should really go clean yourself up a bit.”
Kylee smoothed a hand over her t-shirt. She had washed her face, reapplied deodorant, and put her bra back on. She was perfectly presentable to have a relaxing evening of catching up with her old friend. “It’s just Ron, Principal Kidd. He doesn’t care what I’m wearing. He’s been here many times before. He practically lived here before you were born.”
“Great. Then he’ll feel right at home.”
There was that sparkle in her daughter’s eye again. Jason had had that same sparkle early in their relationship when he’d been sweeping her off her feet. He barely looked at her the last few years of their marriage. And when he did, his eyes were dull with wariness.
Kylee had never walked around as though she had a crown on her head. But after a few years with Jason she’d felt the crown of her head sinking down, and further down into her chest as though her head weighed a ton. It was only in these last few months since the divorce that Kylee had felt a lessening on her shoulders. Her head was nearly back centered between her shoulder blades.
Molly’s sparkle told Kylee the little girl was up to something. But what? Kylee had caught her daughter straightening up the living room earlier. It was like pulling teeth to get Molly to do chores. For some reason Molly had done a chore she hadn’t been asked to do?
Yes, there was definitely something going on. Maybe she’d gotten into trouble again and suspected Ron would give Kylee the full report tonight? Yes, that had to be it. Before Kylee could start her interrogation, the smoke alarm beat her to it.
Kylee took a deep inhale. The acrid smell of burning food charged into her nostrils. The alarm screamed again demanding attention. Another sound joined the chorus. It was the doorbell.
Kylee looked to Molly. Molly’s aghast look was even more pronounced on her round face. In her daughter’s eyes, Kylee saw her own mortification.
In unison, they looked at the front door. Then towards the kitchen. Then back to each other.
“You get the door,” said Kylee. “I’ll get the food.”
Kylee dashed off to the kitchen. When she entered, it was too late. The lives of the vegetables were already lost. The pan too, as the greens were now black and putrified in their so-called stainless steel coffin.
“I just remembered,” said a deep, male voice from behind her, “Home Economics is the only class you ever failed.”
“I didn’t fail,” Kylee insisted. “I got a B.”
“Only because I was your partner and my A carried you through.”
Ron stepped in front of Kylee. He shoved his hand into a pink oven mitt and grabbed the handle of the pan. Moving quickly, he doused the fiery fare in the sink by turning the faucet on full blast.
With the pan contained, Ron returned to the scene of the crime to look for other victims. He turned the oven off where the chicken tenders weren’t doing too bad. Frozen dinners that just needed reheating, Kylee could handle. But anything fresh from the ground or the slaughterhouse typically ended up wishing it had been buried six feet under than in her kitchen.
Ron turned to her with a raised eyebrow, a look of admonishment on his face. Kylee couldn’t feel chagrined. She was too busy trying to manage the onset of lightheadedness. Not from the smell of smoke. It was from the smell of him.
The spicy smell of Ron cut through the burnt smell of the drenched veggies. Had his jawline always been that sharp? She wondered what the flesh under his chin tasted like? Ron glanced down at her lips as though he were ready to let her nibble.
Kylee jerked her gaze away. What was wrong with her? Ron was her friend. He’d once been her best friend. And she’d just sized him up like he was dinner.
“I’m so sorry dinner’s ruined,” she said.
“Of course, it’s not. I was a Boy Scout, remember.”