Young Writers Society

II

I hate to admit it, but Kieran Payce is not a bad cook. Actually, to put it accurately, he is an excellent cook. We didn’t have everything he needed to make dinner, so he made me go out and get the ingredients. I would have asked him why he doesn’t just take care of it himself, but then I saw the bag of frozen vegetables pressed to his head and I took it as a form of penance. An hour later, once he got busy, I start to think it was worth it. More than once, everyone, except for Halli, tries to offer our help, but he makes it clear that he doesn’t need any. I can relate to that; unless I am baking, the kitchen is off-limits.

Nobody has ever complained when I volunteered to cook, but even when I try very hard to, there is nothing to complain about the braised pork chops glazed with chicken broth and apple cider, mashed potatoes, and pickled vegetables. I try to ask him what the recipe was. I give up trying to understand what he says, so he just writes it down. “Svinekoteletter.” Either way, it smells delicious and I find myself anxious to try once it is on the table.

A few times, I watch from the living room as everyone attempts to start some small talk with him. Jimmy talks up a storm as she dumps a bombardment of questions about him and Norway. I watch him and he seems a little uncomfortable with her enthusiasm. I feel bad for Jimmy; it’s not the first time I have seen her do that to someone. Kieran answers some of the questions as best he can, but before I can go over to Jimmy and suggest that she take a break, Halli does it for me. Jimmy walks away, feeling a little hurt.

Pasha and Talia are much gentler with their approach. They both speak to him in softer tones and I see him slowly warm up to them as he answers their questions. I overhear them a little and while they are gentle in their approach, they are a bit different. Pasha quickly gets him talking about cooking, something he is obviously passionate about. Way to go, Pash, I think. Talia, on the other hand, approaches him with more sarcasm and I can’t help but smirk at how well he counteracts her sarcasm with dry witticisms. Yes, he will quickly earn her respect. I see a smile crack his features and he even asks them questions of his own. More impressive, I see him get a laugh out of both of them—something that has proven quite difficult.

I feel like I should tear myself away from the TV and get to know him myself, but over the course of the hour, I realize the he methodically avoiding me. I can’t say I blame him; hitting someone with an umbrella is not exactly an ideal first encounter. I suspect that he is not the kind of guy where groveling is going to be the best method of getting in his good graces.

“Alright ladies, I may require some assistance in getting everything out to the dining room,” announces Kieran. Before I can offer my assistance, Halli, Pasha, and Talia are already grabbing the pork chops, the vegetables, and the mashed potatoes respectively. That’s when he finally notices me.

“Umbrella girl, could you set the table and get out the wineglasses, please,” he requests with a smile. I comply, though I fight back the annoyance and embarrassment at the nickname he has branded me with. “Oh, and I am aware that my mother isn’t supposed to be home for a while, but could you please set a place for her as well?”

“As you wish, Viking,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

I set the table and I also grab pitchers of ice water and homemade lemonade I made earlier today. Everyone takes their usual spots at the table and Kieran takes a spot at the end of the table, opposite from where his mother usually sits. I end up sitting closest to him, putting me opposite to Halli. Before we begin eating, Talia asks to offer a prayer.

“What denomination?” asks Kieran, sounding genuinely curious.

This one thing Talia is a bit hesitant to share sometimes. “Mormon,” she answers simply.

Kieran cocks his head a little. I follow his eyes and see Talia’s T-shirt. In bold rainbow letters, it reads, I KISSED A GIRL AND I LIKED IT.

“Did you kiss a girl?” he asks.

“On a dare,” replies Talia. “I’m not a lesbian, but I hate how people forget how easy it is to dehumanize others when you say that what they do is wrong, especially when they are not harming anyone.”

“Balancing a religion that preaches the sins of a group you express support for,” Kieran marvels. “I cannot fathom how difficult that must be for you, but your courage speaks for itself nonetheless.”

Talia fixes her soft blue eyes on him, scrutinizing. She might be thinking that he is simply trying to win her approval, but it seems to me that he isn’t exactly hoping for hug or something to that effect. Kieran stares back, not smiling nor frowning, but simply returning her gaze. Finally, Talia pushes a strand of her long blonde hair out of her face and offers a prayer. I don’t close my eyes as she prays, but I steal a glance and Kieran has not taken his eyes off of Talia. It is not the fact that he is staring so fixatedly; it’s that I can’t tell exactly what he is doing.

As everybody delves into the meal that Kieran prepared for us, they all seem to share my liking for it. It’s only a first effort, but it is yummy. For a few minutes, the only sounds are that of utensils, Jimmy’s noisy eating, and the occasional “please pass this or that.” As I eat, it turns out, I am not the only one who has been stealing a glance at the guy who we are suddenly sharing a house with.

No doubt, Halli and their mother will be fine with the transition, but what about us tenants? Kieran was absolutely right—he is a guy and it will take more than a few reassurances of him being “a good guy” to make us feel comfortable with his presence.

“So, ladies, how long have each of you dwelt under this roof?” asks Kieran, breaking the silence.

I guess that is the first question he would ask. Before any of us can pipe up, Halli answers for us.

“Pauline has been here sixteen months, Pasha and Talia fifteen, Jimmy ten,” she explains.

“And me, four hours,” the change in his voice is very faint, but I can hear the sarcasm. “‘Jimmy’,” he repeats, changing the subject all of the sudden. “Short for ‘Jasmine’, ‘Jemima’…?”

“Jemima,” replies Jimmy, smiling broadly.

“Is it just an epithet?” asks Kieran. “You don’t exactly offer a tomboyish disposition.”

Jimmy giggles. Oh great, now Kieran has got her playing with a strand of her jet-black hair. “I’m no tomboy, but I do enjoy boyish activities.”

Kieran scoffs. “Why place gender labels on activities? A guy can enjoy princess movies and playing dress-up with themselves or with a collections of dolls just as easily as a lady can enjoy collecting action figures and comic books.”

Okay, now I am a little impressed. If this guy was eager to please or on a pitiful quest to gain everyone’s approval, he would be sloppier. Though unwaveringly reserved, he is genuinely polite. Jimmy might have introduced herself too strongly in the kitchen, but now she and Kieran are engaged lively conversation.

Soon he is going around the table and getting little stories out of everyone. He is careful not to ask questions that are too personal, though he methodically gets everyone talking about something about they are passionate about. Jimmy talks about farming and paintball. Pasha talks about classic novels. Talia talks about cultural issues such as religion and their “varying degrees of ignorance towards the LGBT community.” I feel even more ashamed of myself for hitting him, because throughout all of dinner, he never says more than two words to me. Nice guy, my ass. Finally, he starts talking to his sister.

He asks her how she feels about starting high school soon. He asks her how last year went for her. Well, I can vouch for when she says that it could have been better. When I moved in, she really missed her brother and I learned the hard way to not try and fill that gap until she was ready. Finally he asks if she has dated anyone.

Halli rolls her eyes and brings her hair around her shoulder as she tugs on it. “I was asked out to Cedar Point by someone,” she grumbles.

“What did you say?” asks Kieran.

“I said I would think about it,” Halli replies.

Kieran gives her a sideways glance. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”

“Because Pauline and Jimmy talked me into accepting,” Halli shoots an annoyed glance at me and Jimmy and my face drains of color as Kieran locks eyes with me.

“If Halli is unsure about accompanying this boy, why force her into a decision she might not like?” I want to scream at him to be more expressive with his voice; it would be so much less intimidating.

“Exactly what I was saying!” Pasha and Talia exclaim as one. I want to shoot them betrayed glances, but I worry what Kieran will do if I break his gaze.

“I just didn’t want her to miss out on a potentially good time!” I shriek, slamming my fists down on the table. “Plus, I suggested that she invite him over to the house and she could make dinner for him!” I pant, but Kieran is unperturbed.

He turns his gaze to his sister and his features become warmer, brotherly as he cups her hand in his. “Dear sister, are you wholeheartedly comfortable with this decision?”

Halli sighs and shakes her head, suddenly seeming more like a seven-year-old instead of fifteen.

“I’m not making you do anything, but would it make you feel better about it if I help you decide what wear?”

A toothy smile spreads across Halli’s face.

This is outrageous. I chuckle nervously. “I was going help her with her outfit and hair,” I protest, but Kieran cuts me off.

“Umbrella, I have not seen my sister for a year and a half; please allow me this pleasure.”

“But you’re a…”

“A guy?” Kieran finishes incredulously. “What on earth does that have to do with anything? I don’t want to brag, but give me chance, you might be impressed.”

Halli scoffs. “Don’t want to brag?” she repeats, laughing. “Come on, Kier, you’ve basically been my fairy godmother when it comes to clothes, makeup, and hair.”

“That’s saying a lot,” says Talia suspiciously.

Kieran turns his gaze to her and takes off his glasses. “Well then, if it will quell your suspicions, let me know and sometime I will dress you up according to whatever guidelines you give me and turn you into a masterpiece.”

Talia laughs. How is he doing that? “Very bold, Norway, but since Halli seems to vouch for your talents…I’ll come bother you sometime.”

Kieran puts his glasses back on. “I guarantee you will not be disappointed.”

My mouth opens and closes several times, but no answer comes. First he basically steals the kitchen from me when I had a meal planned, then he gets a laugh out of both Talia and Pasha, he seems to have earned Talia’s approval quicker than I ever did, and finally Halli enlists him to help her with this weekend’s date. How smug or sadistic does a person have to be to do all of that to a person in less than six hours? Everyone but Kieran, who has no idea what is going on, sucks in a breath as I begin to tremble. Pasha, who is sitting next to me, grabs my arm gently.

“Okay, Pauline, just calm down, you will be…” I wrench my arm from her tender grasp and, even as I accidentally scratch her cheek with my fingernail, I storm from the dinner table without excusing myself. I run past the kitchen and I stop at a set of locked double doors. I rummage for my keys and once I select the right one, I clumsily unlock the door and slam it behind me.

I scream, not caring that everyone might hear me. It doesn’t matter; I am in my playroom. Or at least that is what everyone calls it. It’s one of the rooms that were added when Frances renovated. It occupies a corner of the house that offers a view of both Ash Lake and the forest. That’s just the cherry on top. What is special about this room is what is in it.

When I first came here it was just my tin whistle, my glittery green Fender Stratocaster with a Floyd Rose tremolo bar, and my simple eighty-eighty-key keyboard. Since then, it has accumulated into a full-size Steinway grand piano that Frances insisted on getting for me, a violin, a second guitar, and a flute. Each part of the room is dedicated to a certain part. Going clockwise, in one corner is the piano, in the next are my guitars and the amplifier and pedals I have for them. In the third corner are my violin, flute, and tin whistle. Each of which, I have carefully placed in cases.

Right now, I just need to blow off steam. I pick up my Stratocaster and plug it in. Soon, my fingers are dancing along the maple fingerboard and my building frustration with Halli’s brother turns into sound. I don’t play any particular song, but I manipulate the F minor pentatonic scale with extensive use of sweep picking and legato slides to create a folksy, upbeat, albeit aggressive tone. As my improvisation climaxes, I get down on my knees and the music becomes faster and faster before finally bringing it to a pinch harmonic and descending with a rapid stream of pull-offs and ending with an octave slide.

Panting hard, I carefully put the guitar away. As I am turn to leave the room, I see Kieran. I stop dead in my tracks and stand frozen as he carefully takes in each piece of the room before returning his eyes to me.

“You’re a musician,” he says simply.

“Way to go, Captain Obvious,” I spit. I try to leave, but he blocks the door.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says hastily. “It’s just I didn’t think you gave off a musically-inclined disposition.”

I squint at him. “Is this a habit of yours? Being overly intuitive of everyone around you?”

Kieran stammers. I scoff and push past him.

“For the record, you play that guitar quite excellently,” he calls after me, seeming to have found words. “So well, in fact, that I long to hear how you fare with the rest of your chosen instruments.”

I smile quietly at the compliment. As I am about to head upstairs to my room, the front door opens. It’s Frances. The woman is Halli if fifty years is as kind to her. Judging by her raincoat and umbrella, it looks like the rain has really picked up.

I hear her inhale deeply. “Oh, my goodness, Pauline, I thought you were making stuffed peppers!” she laughs. “Or was it just a ruse to get me surprised for what you were actually making?”

“I DIDN’T MAKE DINNER, YOUR SON DID!” I scream, knocking over a vase next to the stairwell. As it shatters, I cover my mouth in shock as I look from it to Frances, who is clearly shocked. Although, I can’t tell which she is more shocked about, my angry outburst or the fact that I just revealed her son is home a week ahead of schedule.

Frances lowers her sunglasses. “Kieran is home?” she asks quietly. As if in answer, Kieran appears around the corner and Frances sees him. What happens next is probably one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen as she drops everything and meets Kieran halfway. They embrace each other for a long time without saying a word.

“I missed you so much,” she breathes through her tears.

“I missed you too, mother,” Kieran chokes, and even though tears well up in his eyes; he doesn’t even seem capable of smiling for his own mother. What a dick. I savagely consider blurting out a secret about her just to see if I can get more than a sliver of emotion out of him, but Frances sat everyone down recently making us promise to keep quiet about it, that she would tell it to Kieran when she felt the time was right.

I roll my eyes and head up to my room. I reach it and slam the door behind me. I collapse onto my bed and scream into my pillow. I pound my bed over and over again.

“You keep screaming like that, you’ll lose your voice—again,” warns Pasha. Not bothering to sit up, I twist my head and watch as she sits down on her own bed twelve feet away from mine. I see how tender her cheek is. As if I couldn’t feel worse than I already do.

“That’s the first angry outburst I’ve had in eight months,” I whine. “Frances warned me that she’d evict me if I didn’t get my temper under control and now…” Pasha walks over and lays a hand on my back.

“Relax, Pauline,” she soothes, her almond-like brown eyes glistening with that calming attitude she always seems cursed with. She wipes a few of my brown bangs out of my face. “You’ve had a good grip on that temper of yours for a long time and the usual source isn’t coming to bother you anytime soon.” I guess I should take some comfort in that.

“But this guy, he’s outrageous!” I complain.

“I can see why you’re upset with him, but he didn’t do any of that intentionally,” says Pasha matter-of-factly.

“He got a smile out of you and Talia in all of ten minutes,” I snap.

Pasha shrugs. “He’s interesting that way.”

“I’ll say.”

“No, but as much as he’s not outwardly expressive, he has a good sense of humor and we talked about clothes.” I glare at how spirited she is about talking about a man she just met. “He’s obviously a bit shy.”

“Or he’s a retard,” the gentle hand on my back becomes a vicious slap.

Pasha exhales as he ties her black hair up into a knot. “Look Pauline, I came up here to comfort you, but since you are obviously so hurt that you have reduced yourself to a bitch…it seems like my time was wasted.” She gets up and makes her way to the door, but stops just before she closes the door. “When the high-spirited Pauline is ready come out, Kieran has insisted on making brownies to go with the ice cream Frances brought home.” She shuts the door behind her.

I roll around onto my back and stare at the ceiling as I sink into deep thought. Everybody seems to like Kieran and times when I managed to get Halli to talk about him, he always seems like a likeable guy. Maybe I should give him a chance. However, he is suddenly everyone’s favorite person in the house and so far it is getting on my nerves.

I sit up and stare into the mirror at the foot of my bed. My hair that just barely touches my shoulders is extremely disheveled and my hazel eyes do not have that glitter they normally have. My shoulders rise and fall as I breathe hard. “Pauline, looks you are in for a hell of a ride,” I announce hysterically.