Page 22 of Shapes of Love
I trudge downstairs, shivering despite the weighted blanket I keep wrapped around myself. The exhaustion and stress turned into a fever that hasn’t broken in two days. A puff of cold air hits my face when I open the fridge, empty except for some yogurt and bananas and a row of smoothies.
My stomach growls uncomfortably. I can’t remember the last time I ate, but I was supposed to pick up groceries today. My family is returning in two days, and I promised them I’d get some food.
I texted Marissa and she said not to worry about it, that she would ask someone to get groceries for me, but I still feel bad. Grocery shopping is a love language. I like to get little treats my family isn’t expecting, like those chocolate sprinklesSonia snacks on while we playMario Kart, or a new type of cheese my moms might want to try.
I pick up my guitar and flop on the couch, strumming absentmindedly. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved that I’m out of commission for a couple of days. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and Marissa wanted me and Kai to be seen shopping together at Whole Foods so she could call the paparazzi on us.
WHOLESOME FOOD, WHOLESOME LOVE. KASSY SPENDS THANKSGIVING TOGETHER!I can almost see the headlines.
My family doesn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. Normally, my moms will order pizza and we’ll watch movies or play board games. Kai used to come over during the weekend for our annual movie marathon. I still remember the time we watched multiple seasons ofHaikyu!!in a day and spent hours trying to knock over a water bottle with a volleyball in his backyard. He ended up hitting himself in the face with the ball, and I laughed so hard that I was sore for days.
We’re obviously not doing that this year. I haven’t seen him since we signed the contract, and we haven’t been texting much, considering all I’ve been able to focus on is sleeping.
The doorbell rings, a half-broken, shrill sound that echoes across the living room. It’s probably Marissa’s assistant. I put on a mask before cracking the door.
“Hey.” Kai stands on my doorstep, juggling several armfuls of groceries. “You stink of Vicks VapoRub.” He wrinkles his nose.
I crane my neck to meet his gaze, pulling my blanket cocoon closer. Why is he here? Maybe he forgot I was sick.
“Your manager said you weren’t feeling well,” he continues. “You need food, and your moms are coming back from their trip tomorrow, aren’t they? So don’t fight me.” Kai brushes past me before taking off his shoes and heading for the kitchen. My mind feels foggy as I follow him, trying to process. He got me food.
“They’re coming back the day after tomorrow,” I manage to say. Emotions swirl in my chest, leaving me at a loss for words. “Thank you.”
“No need,” Kai says, unpacking the food. “This is the tofu your mom likes, isn’t it? The not-too-soft, not-too-hard one?”
I don’t know how he remembers that. “Yeah.”
“Your fridge is giving me depression.” His face twists into a scowl as he peruses the empty shelves before throwing me a look over his shoulder. “This is what I would think of if someone asked me to draw the feeling of sadness.” His expression turns stern. “Is this all you’ve been eating while sick?”
“No.”
I mean, it’s not a lie. I also had some sushi Marissa left, and some cereal. It’s not that I’m trying to be a health nut. I just can’t muster up the energy to cook lately, no matter how I try, and everything feels wrong in my mouth. Bananas, smoothies, and yogurt are things I don’t get tired of having, plus they’re cold and nutritious and have familiar flavors.
“I’ll make us something. Easy to eat, I promise.” Kai turns to me. “You can shower while I organize these, if you need to.” He reveals two steaming containers of soup from a paper bag. The smell of rice and chicken envelops me, making mymouth water. Kai rummages through the cabinets like it’s second nature. Like he’s home, not at the place of the girl who dumped him two years ago.
The knot in my chest tightens. How can he still care about me this way? Why’s he doing this?
“Sash?” He waves a hand at me when he catches me staring. “Sounds good?”
“Um?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Before I can react, he moves closer, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. “You have a fever. When was the last time you took your temperature?”
“I’m fine,” I say, turning away. I don’t need him to take care of me. I can handle it.
There’s something different about the way he touches me now, though. When we were dating, he would be so dramatic if we were more than five feet apart. But when Kai touches me now, it’s calm. A wave crashing on the shore, coming and going.
I tread upstairs to shower, leaving him alone in the kitchen. By the time I come back, dressed in a fresh set of pajamas and my hair tied in a loose ponytail, my fever is down a little.
I half expect him to be gone by how silent the house is. It wouldn’t be the first time Kai left without saying anything, but he’s still in the living room, drawing on his tablet.
“How are you feeling?” Kai’s head pops up from the couch. The blankets are folded and put away, a game is queued up on the TV, and there are two bowls on the table, steam swirling like tiny clouds.
“I’m okay.” I sink into my seat, cradling the warm bowl between my palms. A blend of rice, veggies, and chicken coats my tongue when I take a bite, and I’m instantly taken back to the countless sleepovers we had at his place. Mia, Kai, and I would huddle together in his basement to pull all-nighters before finals. Sometimes Kai’s grandpa would cook for us, sharing embarrassing stories of Kai when he was little.
“Did Vô Oliveira cook this?” I ask, but it’s clear the moment I taste it. His grandpa made this. “Canja de galinha, right? I still remember.”
“He heard you weren’t feeling well.” Kai shrugs and looks away. “He knows you love his cooking. You know how he is.”
