"Do you cook like this every night?"
"No. But when I have some time, I like to eat in. It's a nice change from grabbing food on the go."
"I would eat in more often if I could cook like this."
"This isn't difficult," he said with a smile that seemed to be warmer every time he flashed it at her. His hard exterior had definitely softened over the past few days.
"I'll take your word for it. Did your mom teach you to cook?"
"My father was the chef in our house, at least before the divorce. His second wife cooked more than he did, and my mother never seemed interested in more than the basics. Luckily, her second husband liked to cook, so she never had to get better. What about your parents, before everything fell apart?"
"My mom would cook, but nothing that complicated. My dad would throw things on the grill. He knew his way around the barbecue, but not the stove or the oven."
"You haven't said much about him, beyond his death. Were you close?"
"I thought I was, but I was a kid. I had no idea what was going on in his head. I still don't, to be honest."
"I'm sorry," Matt said.
"I don't want you to be sorry for me. It doesn't make me feel better," she said candidly.
"How does it make you feel?"
"Ashamed."
"Why?" he asked with surprise. "You were a kid. You weren't responsible for the choices your parents made."
"I know, but after my dad's death, everywhere we went, people were whispering. I'd go to school and kids would stop talking whenever I got close. My mom felt it, too. Her friends didn't know what to say to her. I think that drove her need to escape." She paused as she thought about the past. "My dad was free, but we were trapped under this dark cloud that never seemed to pass."
"When did it get better?"
"Surprisingly enough, when we got to my great-aunt's house. That's when I felt like I could see the sun again, or, at least, the possibility of sunshine. It was kind of scary being away from my mother. Even though she was unpredictable, we knew what we were getting with her. We didn't know what we'd be getting with my great-aunt." She picked up her fork and took another bite, feeling a little of the tension ease now that they had moved on to happier memories in her life.
"You don't have to keep talking about this," Matt said. "Unless you want to. I'm happy to listen."
She smiled at that comment. "I didn't think you were going to be the greatest listener when we first met and you were barking questions at me."
"Hey, you ran away from the scene of a murder, and you stole the victim's phone. I didn't know what I was dealing with."
"Fair enough. Anyway, as I was saying, once it was just Landon and me living in my great-aunt's quiet, comfortable house, the world opened up. Landon did well in high school, winning all kinds of merit awards and acing the SATs. He got a full scholarship to Westbridge, and it felt like the future was going to be so much brighter."
"It sounded like he was happy there for most of the time."
"I think he was the first three years and maybe even the first half of his senior year, but in retrospect, that Christmas he seemed more subdued than usual. I thought he was just stressed about school and getting perfect grades. But now I know there was more going on."
"Everything looks different in the rearview mirror."
"I suppose. I just wish Landon had gotten to have a future. It's so unfair. And I hate that I'm even saying that because I learned a long time ago that life isn't fair. But I don't get to escape. I don't get to take the easy way out."
"You're talking about your dad's suicide now?"
"Yes. Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Just say what you're thinking."
"I've never really talked to anyone about it. I don't know why I'm talking to you."
"Because I'm a good listener," he said lightly, reminding her of what she'd just said.
