Read Online Slow Burn by Nicole Christie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nicole Christie
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bouquet of roses, and the giant teddy bear—wearing my former sleep shirt—lying in front of the door. Unbelievable.
Groaning quietly, I quickly scan the street for any signs of Johnny trying to slink away after nearly killing me. All I see is the old lady next from next door, standing on the lawn with her fluffy gray cat. They both stare at me like I’m a dog crapping in their yard.
I rise to my feet and dump the roses and the giant bear in the trash can. The stuffed bear barely fits, so I have to smoosh it in there. Pathetic, Johnny. Because nothing says I’m sorry I cheated on you like roses and a stuffed animal.
Sigh.
Dad lives one town over, in Hidden Cove. He rents an apartment over Nico’s Pizzeria, and consequently, the whole place always smells like bread and pizza sauce. I can gain weight just by inhaling. Weirdly, it always makes me hungry for tacos.
Dad and I used to get along great. He’s pretty funny, and he used to make me laugh with his dorky sense of humor. Now…
Now we make awkward conversation, at best. When he can’t think of anything to say, he asks about Mom. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, “She’s as miserable as you are, dumbass!” Of course I’d never call him a dumbass. Not to his face.
He’s doing a little better than she is—having been on at least a few dates since the divorce six and a half years ago . Of course the women he’s gone out with—not the cream of the crop. My dad’s a good-looking guy, and he can be kind of charming in his own clueless way. I know he can do better. The last woman he dated was three hundred and twenty five pounds (don’t ask me how I know), and sold sweaters made out of cat fur on the internet. She made one for me—a sweater, that is. Mirella said she used the fur of her two favorite cats, Tinkles and Cooter, to knit it. It was a nice gesture, and I really did try to appreciate it—but I couldn’t go near the sweater without dry-gagging.
It smelled like musty cat. She did, too, come to think of it.
So, basically, the weekends consist of Dad and I sitting around the table, eating pizza, and trying to fill the uncomfortable silences with meaningless chitchat. He’s my father, and I love him, but sometimes being with him is pure torture.
The highlight of my visits is when Michelle comes to get me. She’s my dad’s baby sister, but she’s more like a cool older sister to me than an aunt. We go shopping, to the movies—anywhere I want to go. I’m not sure why, but I act more like a teenager with Michelle than I do with friends my own age.
“My favorite niece!” Michelle exclaims, letting herself into the apartment. “Are you ready to go shopping with your favorite aunt?”
“God, yes!” I lunge forward. Then, composing myself, I turn back to Dad. “Um, is that okay? I could stay—”
“No, no, it’s fine!” He tries not to look relieved. “Go have fun. Do you need money? I could give you my credit card…” He fumbles in his back pocket for his wallet.
“Dad, it’s okay. I have money. Thank you, though.”
He nods vaguely. “You girls have fun.”
Michelle rolls her eyes at him. “Bye, Dan.”
As soon as we get into her cute little convertible, Michelle turns to me. “Okay, spill. What’s up with you? And don’t tell me nothing, girl. I know that look on your face.”
I take a deep breath, and let it out in a slow controlled hiss. “First…let’s get lunch. Anything but pizza. Chinese sounds good. I could go for some pot stickers.”
“Okay.” Michelle fastens her seatbelt and flashes me a smile. “Chinese, it is.”
We end up at one of her favorite restaurants in town, The Lotus Garden. It’s great—unapologetically gaudy, with Buddha statues everywhere, and gold tassels hanging from the ripped paper lanterns above our heads.
I wrap my hands around the tea cup, savoring it s warmth,
Groaning quietly, I quickly scan the street for any signs of Johnny trying to slink away after nearly killing me. All I see is the old lady next from next door, standing on the lawn with her fluffy gray cat. They both stare at me like I’m a dog crapping in their yard.
I rise to my feet and dump the roses and the giant bear in the trash can. The stuffed bear barely fits, so I have to smoosh it in there. Pathetic, Johnny. Because nothing says I’m sorry I cheated on you like roses and a stuffed animal.
Sigh.
Dad lives one town over, in Hidden Cove. He rents an apartment over Nico’s Pizzeria, and consequently, the whole place always smells like bread and pizza sauce. I can gain weight just by inhaling. Weirdly, it always makes me hungry for tacos.
Dad and I used to get along great. He’s pretty funny, and he used to make me laugh with his dorky sense of humor. Now…
Now we make awkward conversation, at best. When he can’t think of anything to say, he asks about Mom. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, “She’s as miserable as you are, dumbass!” Of course I’d never call him a dumbass. Not to his face.
He’s doing a little better than she is—having been on at least a few dates since the divorce six and a half years ago . Of course the women he’s gone out with—not the cream of the crop. My dad’s a good-looking guy, and he can be kind of charming in his own clueless way. I know he can do better. The last woman he dated was three hundred and twenty five pounds (don’t ask me how I know), and sold sweaters made out of cat fur on the internet. She made one for me—a sweater, that is. Mirella said she used the fur of her two favorite cats, Tinkles and Cooter, to knit it. It was a nice gesture, and I really did try to appreciate it—but I couldn’t go near the sweater without dry-gagging.
It smelled like musty cat. She did, too, come to think of it.
So, basically, the weekends consist of Dad and I sitting around the table, eating pizza, and trying to fill the uncomfortable silences with meaningless chitchat. He’s my father, and I love him, but sometimes being with him is pure torture.
The highlight of my visits is when Michelle comes to get me. She’s my dad’s baby sister, but she’s more like a cool older sister to me than an aunt. We go shopping, to the movies—anywhere I want to go. I’m not sure why, but I act more like a teenager with Michelle than I do with friends my own age.
“My favorite niece!” Michelle exclaims, letting herself into the apartment. “Are you ready to go shopping with your favorite aunt?”
“God, yes!” I lunge forward. Then, composing myself, I turn back to Dad. “Um, is that okay? I could stay—”
“No, no, it’s fine!” He tries not to look relieved. “Go have fun. Do you need money? I could give you my credit card…” He fumbles in his back pocket for his wallet.
“Dad, it’s okay. I have money. Thank you, though.”
He nods vaguely. “You girls have fun.”
Michelle rolls her eyes at him. “Bye, Dan.”
As soon as we get into her cute little convertible, Michelle turns to me. “Okay, spill. What’s up with you? And don’t tell me nothing, girl. I know that look on your face.”
I take a deep breath, and let it out in a slow controlled hiss. “First…let’s get lunch. Anything but pizza. Chinese sounds good. I could go for some pot stickers.”
“Okay.” Michelle fastens her seatbelt and flashes me a smile. “Chinese, it is.”
We end up at one of her favorite restaurants in town, The Lotus Garden. It’s great—unapologetically gaudy, with Buddha statues everywhere, and gold tassels hanging from the ripped paper lanterns above our heads.
I wrap my hands around the tea cup, savoring it s warmth,
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