SometimesIforget how much my mom has experienced. “Pleasedo,”Isay.
Thisis an important mission, andI’llneed to have my head fully in the game.Ican compartmentalize other things going on in my life with the best of them.Ican compartmentalize my feelings aboutZoeand get the job done, just likeIdid inDublinandSerbia.
Butlet’s just say thatIwould rather not have to compartmentalize my worries aboutZoeand whether or not she’s okay while being on a mission withZoe.
CHAPTER 32
SMOKE AND MIRRORS
ZOE
WhenIwent shopping withCharlie,Mackenzie, andLivi, they thoughtIshould buy some kitchen items.Ireminded them thatIdon’t know how to cook.Theyconvinced me that it will be helpful to be able to, because it’s not always convenient to go get food.Ithought that was whyDoorDashwas invented, butIjust nodded.
“Startout making easy things,”Mackenziehad said. “Likespaghetti!Allyou have to do is boil the pasta and warm up a jar of sauce.Easiestthing in the world.”
Itook her word on it and got a package of spaghetti noodles, a jar of marinara, and a loaf of pre-sliced, pre-garlic-buttered bread.Todaywas taxing and spaghetti is comfort food, soIfigure it’s a good time to try out my new pots.SoI’vegot sauce heating in one pot, spaghetti boiling in another, and two slices of the bread toasting in the oven.
SeeingLedgertoday was hard.Hewas just so happy tosee me.Iknow he thinks he loves me, andIwant him to love me so badly.ButIalso know that it can’t last, so wanting it and being around it is just a painful reminder that it is an impossible dream.
I’veclimbed up onto a tall pedestal with him, andIknow that falling from that kind of height will be too painful.SoI’vestarted climbing back down the ladder.ButIcan see that me climbing down is hurtingLedger.Itmakes everything worse becauseIlove and care about him so much, too.
Ijust need to focus on work.Focuson this mission— it might be the most important one of my career.Itcould lead to the takedown of some global bad guys, andI’msure theMontenegrinswill be very happy to no longer have them operating out of their beautiful country.
IfIfocus on work,Ifeel confident.Amazing.LikeIam the best.
Inever feel so completely incompetent and likeIhave nothing together asIdo whenIfocus on my personal life.SoIfocus on whatIam good at.Igrab my tablet so onceIstart eating,Ican look up everything there is to know about theFortressofDormitor.
ThenIstart to smell something burning.
Idrop my tablet onto my table asIrush back to the oven.Assoon asIopen the oven door, smoke starts to billow out of it.Igrab a hot pad, pull out the baking sheet, and put it on top of the two free burners.Ishut the oven door, hoping to trap some of the smoke in there, but it’s still filling the room.
Thenthe smoke detector goes off.Idon’tknow if it’s connected to building security or everyone else’s apartments, andIreally don’t want to find out by drawing anyone— including firefighters— to my apartment.SoIgrab the hand towel and start waving the smoke away from the detector asIcough repeatedly from breathing it all in.Istop for a moment to open a window, then go back to fanning the air.
Finally, gloriously, the fire alarm stops it’s wailingBeep, beep, beeping, which allows me to hear a different sound.Ahissing one.Ilook over at the oven to see that the boiling of my pasta is no longer confined to the pot, and it’s now going over onto my stove.Andthe pasta sauce is bubbling like it’s an angry volcano, spewing its hot lava everywhere.Ihurry to shut off both burners and put both pots on top of the baking sheet, just squishing them right in there with my blackened garlic bread.
Irun my hands over my face and just stare at the destruction on my stove through the still smoke-filled air.
ThenIhear a knock at the door.Ithas to be a neighbor in my building who is wondering ifIsimply don’t know how to use an oven or ifIam in the process of burning the place down.Notexactly the wayIwant to meet the neighbors.Igrab the hand towel again and wave it asIhead to the door, figuringIcan at least clear a path.Likethe smoke is just going to stay whereItell it to go.
Iopen the door, ready to tell my new neighbor that everything is fine, and seeDirectorLancaster.She’swearing the same navy pantsuit and mint blouse that she was for our briefing earlier today.Herhair is no longer in the loose bun of earlier— it’s in waves at her shoulders.
Istand stunned for a moment.TheEvelynLancasteris at my apartment.Myapartment.
Myeyes go wide.Myapartment that is currently filled with smoke, marinara splatters, and starchy pasta water burned to my stove.Forthe first time sinceIgot my apartment,IwishIwas back at a hotel.
“MayIcome in?”
“Oh, yes.Ofcourse.”Iopen the door the rest of the way asIstep to the side, letting her in.Imotion to the kitchen with the hand holding the towel, which just flops like a dead fish. “Sorryabout all of this.Ididn’t know that cooking spaghetti could be so problematic.”
Sheglances toward my kitchen and says, “It’snot nearly as bad as the timeIburned canned chicken noodle soup.Ihad to throw away the pot and the curtains over my kitchen window.”Shedoesn’t so much as get judgmental eyes or squinch her nose at the smell.Hereyes just come back to me, and she says, “Iwas hoping we could talk for a few minutes.Areyou free?”
Inod and lead her to my couch, where we both sit down.Theair is clearing, so either the smoke is escaping out the window or my apartment’s ventilation system’s filter is doing its thing.Notin time to keep the womanI’veadmired my entire career from witnessing it, sadly, but at least she’s in less danger of lung damage.
“Iread your file beforeSullyandIdecided on having you andLedgerdo a joint mission.”
HowdoIrespond to that?Bysaying “Iread your file, too?”No, probably not.Thatsounds creepy.Instead,Ijust nod.
“Buteven ifIhadn’t,” she says, “Iwould’ve recognized a fellow foster kid.”
