“Kara?”
“My mom,” she started, her voice thick. “She used to cook all the time, but she never really liked it. Eggs and bread every morning. And then one day, it all stopped.”
This I wanted to know. Everything. About her.
“She left when I was just a kid. Dylan barely remembers her.” She took in a deep breath, released it slowly. “But I do.”
“What do you remember?”
“That she was a bitch.” She gave out a small laugh, but it was strained. “I remember one thing. It was her birthday, and my dad was going to take her out to a fancy dinner. I remember he bought her a fur coat. She’d always been hinting at him to buy her one. You know, hints like she’d cut out pictures from magazines and leave them lying around the house for my dad to see. Or say something like ‘This coat would really look pretty on me.’ Stuff like that. She never said what she wanted straight out. I don’t mind using the hint technique, but she was over the top. It was always a guessing game with her.”
She kinda did the same thing, I thought. Like her mother with her cut-out pictures, Kara did with her Post-it Note reminders in her home, except that instead of hints, Kara’s messages were direct and told exactly what she wanted. And I adored that about her.
“It probably drove your dad nuts.”
She lifted her long leg
s onto the counter, crossing them in front of her. Her eyes blazed with anger. I stared.
She gestured with her arm. “I think those eggs are done.”
I turned back to the stove. She was right. I reached for the spatula and plate, scooped out the eggs.
“No,” she said. “It didn’t drive my dad nuts. My dad’s a very patient man. He loved her.”
I didn’t tell her I had no clue what that was like. I didn’t think I’d ever seen my parents hug each other. They couldn’t even stand being in the same room.
“But on her birthday, he got her this fur coat. She was really excited. She unwrapped the gift box really, really slowly, carefully pulling off each piece of tape. Folding the paper meticulously. I wrapped that fur coat myself and I wished to God I’d only used three pieces of tape.”
I chuckled. “How many pieces of tape did you use?”
I grabbed the toast and fixed her sandwich, brought the plate to her.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling up at me. She took a huge bite. It was satisfying to watch her eat. Maybe I’d look up vegetarian recipes and cook her a couple of meals just to see her eat more. It shouldn’t be too hard.
Yeah right. Probably burn the whole place down. I’d stick with sandwiches for now.
“Lots of tape,” she continued. “It took her a while. And when at last it was all unwrapped, she shook it out. And you know what she did?”
I waited for her to continue while I got her a bottled water from the fridge. I didn’t have anything else. I should ask her what she liked to drink, other than coffee, and stock up. For next time.
“What?”
“She went outside and threw that fur coat—that expensive fucking coat that my dad had been saving up for—on the ground. Right on the dirt. And stomped on it. She broke my dad’s heart.
“You see, it wasn’t the fur coat she wanted. ‘I’ve been leaving hints every fucking day to you, Mike,’” she continued, her voice sounding higher than normal, copying her mother’s voice probably. “‘And you buy me this piece of shit coat? Did you get it for a bargain? Did you get it from a consignment shop? Someone owned this piece of shit before, and you dare give it to me as a present?’ Like she’s better than a queen and she levitates above everyone else because she’s so fucking special. My dad and I loved to shop at secondhand stores. I don’t care. I’m in love with a great outfit, but I’m well aware that what you put out into the world is more important than what you wear.”
I unscrewed the cap on the bottled water and handed it to her.
“I saw my dad’s face,” she continued. “He was hurt, and he got mad this time. Not because she didn’t like the coat, although that’s probably one of the reasons, but because Dylan and I were there, watching it all happen. She left him eventually for a vacuum salesman. Her loss.”
She drank water and placed the bottle on the counter. “It was hard for my dad to raise two kids on his own. So he got a job, saved up, then went into business with his older brother, Andrew.” She looked like she wanted to spit. “Another leech, if you ask me. He and my dad both own the garage. Fifty-fifty. You want to know why I work so hard? So I can buy him off. I already talked to Andrew about it, and we have a deal.”
“How much does he want for his share?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why?”
I looked at her, and I knew there was no way I could hide my intentions. Might as well tell her. She was too smart for her own good.