Page 122 of Even After This
“Cordelia?” A familiar masculine voice comes from outside the entrance to the kitchen.
I freeze.Please,no.
As Cordelia turns to the door, her face lights up. “Stanley? So nice to meet you.” She reaches out her hand.
When Stanley returns her greeting, he glances at me. Then does a double take.
“What are you doing here?” My words blurt out in an unfortunate accusing tone as I tie the apron strings a little too tight against my belly.
Stanley pales. “Molly called. She said you weren’t in town to do your usual duties. I thought I was filling in for you.”
Retying the bow, I exhale. That’s what I get for ignoring Molly’s calls. “I had a change of plans.” I’m not sure if that tone is an improvement.
Cordelia claps her hands once. “You two already know each other. Excellent.” She winks at me, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Did I mention this Nigerian dish is wonderful on dates?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I make plans to hurt her. I’m going to take this can opener and hurl it at her. And during my sentencing, I will ironically be refused the opportunity to work off my conviction through community service. But it will be worth it.
I cannot do this today.
I couldn’t book an appointment with my counselor until next week, and I’m hanging on by a thread.
Stanley points to the counter. “I think we’ve got this, Cordelia. I’ll let Meredith explain what I need to do.”
“Very well, then. I’ll leave you to it.” She nods with an annoying gleam in her eye and exits.
Once I’m sure she’s out of earshot, I address Stanley. “You don’t need to stay.”
“I’ll help.” His tone is light, but he seems jittery as he steps to the giant silver bowl next to the Costco-sized carton of eggs. “What was your change of plans?”
“Crack twenty eggs in that bowl.” I slide the 117-ounce can of black-eyed peas in front of me. After I attach the opener to the metal top, I lean my weight in to break the seal. “I just needed to come home.”And I need you to go home.
He holds up the laminated recipe. “I thought she was kidding on the phone when she mentioned black-eyed-pea pancakes.” Shaking his head, he picks up an egg. “What was your change of plans, Meredith?”
I don’t care for his direct tone. Where is Mumbling Stanley? “Nope. She’s not kidding. At least this year, half the batches willbe normal pancakes. Maybe they had complaints last year.” I turn the handle and crank the device to free the peas.
“Because you look terrible.” He almost fumbles the egg, and his voice falters. “I know you were in Colorado with that guy.”
Using a spatula, I pry open the top of the can, heft the container up, and pour the contents into an industrial-sized blender. “All due respect, I’m not doing this with you.”
He cracks an egg on the side of the bowl and it splatters everywhere. A breath of a curse escapes his mouth while he grabs a nearby towel. Once he cleans his hands, he lets out a frustrated sigh. “Did he hurt you?”
With one hand covering the top of the blender and the other gripped around the sides, I flip the power switch on and glare at Stanley. The appliance rocks to life, and the deafening grind fills every last corner of the room. I thought this would give me time to calm myself. Instead, my emotions spiral down, churn, and whirl into unrelenting animosity.
To his credit, Stanley holds my gaze of fire, but he shifts his weight.
He wants to know?
Fine.
I stop the machine. “No, Stanley. He didn’t hurt me. I’m a joke. I’m like the bad TV movie of the week. We’ve all seen it. Melissa Gilbert plays a woman who is so broken she doesn’t think she’ll recover. But then a man gives her hope and shows her a new way, onlyhe isn’t the one.”
After I pull off the top, I run the rubber spatula down the inside of the blender. “There’s some takeaway from the movie about how Melissa Gilbert flourishes after the man leaves her. And then we all turn off the TV and come to the healthy conclusion that we don’t need a relationship to thrive.” My gestures cause black-eyed-pea remnants to fly off the spatula and splatter on the counter. “We’re supposed to feel empowered to go find some dream and live it out. Don’t tell me you don’t remember that one.”
Even as I point my accusatory finger in his direction, the ugly truth pierces my gut. My own cowardice is sabotaging any hope of empowerment and dreams.
Stanley’s eyes darken in an expression I’ve never seen him wear. He leans his weight into his hands on the counter. “Did that idiot break up with you?”
My lip curls. “Only, just for fun, I was dating a movie star in real life. And I followed the clichéd movie plot to a tee, right down to finding myself a new purpose in life.” I’m laughing through my seething words. “And I am that much more the fool.”
