Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ellie

For a second, I imagined that Max's dinner was a Shabbos meal from five years ago. The dining room table was fit for a king with Diane's mother's china and Ben's mother's crystal. Ben had added every single leaf to the table, and I remembered the raucous voices of their friends and colleagues packed around it, Nicole and Max play-fighting for the last slice of Diane's homemade challah. Diane making sure everyone took seconds of brisket, her cheeks a little red with wine, while Ben and Max's mentor, Jack, dissected the latest Warriors game.

Tonight some of the people were the same. Jack and his wife, Nancy, had come. So had some of Max's old grad school cohort from Berkeley. I waved hello down the table to Dave, his husband, Carlo, and Lila, the toddler they'd adopted. I made small talk with Max's rugby friend Eric and his wife, Scarlett, who was pregnant with their first baby. But we hadn't seen each other since last July, and the conversation didn't have the same flow this time. It tripped and fell, picked back up, stumbled again. People talked over each other, said, "I'm sorry, you go ahead," half-laughed.

Had it always felt this forced? Or was I hearing it differently, now that grief's static wasn't distorting everything? Maybe everyone else had moved forward while I'd stood still.

I'd cooked dozens of meals for these people. Jack had eaten my first-ever coq au vin and said it was better than anything he'd eaten in France. The others I'd fed so many pots of three-bean chili and spicy lamb curry when they came over to watch sports and gossip about the other grad students. Ten years had gone by, and they still weren't spending more than five bucks on a bottle of wine. I took a sip of red that bore more than a passing resemblance to cough syrup.

At least there was Kieran's spinach, which was so delicious I couldn't stop eating it. He'd used less cream than I would have done, but it worked. It was just rich enough. Or maybe it simply tasted good to eat something I hadn't cooked.

Ben and Diane seemed pleased, though. The bags under Diane's eyes were still deep, but she was smiling and asking for story after story about Max. A few people had put their forks down, so I could escape to prep dessert soon.

"Fantastic meal, Ellie," Ben said, smiling at me with his glass raised.

"Max would have loved it," Nancy added.

"That creamed spinach was awesome. I want the recipe," Scarlett said.

"To the cook!" Jack toasted.

"To Ellie!"

I looked at the cluster of raised glasses and realized they weren't the people I wanted to be eating with. I wanted Kieran's playful chatter, not this heavy ritual.

"Are you still living out back, Ellie?" Dave asked once we'd all clinked glasses.

I nodded and tried to smile. "You know what rent is like here, and I wouldn't want to live in a house share." I couldn't handle not having control over my space again.

"We're very lucky to have Ellie," Ben said. "She's such a talented chef."

"Cook," I interjected.

"Yes, yes," Ben said, waving his hand. "And she could be cooking for royalty, but instead she makes the best Shabbos dinner I've ever eaten."

Diane looked up and caught my eye for a moment, then said, "Ellie's so good at looking after us. But it was even better when she had Max to cook for. He loved her food so much."

Suddenly everyone at the table was staring at their plates, or the wall, or the ceiling. Except Ben. His eyes moved between Diane and me, his brow furrowing like he'd gotten a particularly cryptic crossword clue.

Something was stuck in my throat, even though I hadn't taken a bite. Is that how she saw me? As half a person, incomplete without Max?

Sadness, I was used to. Melancholy, too. But the white-hot, sharp-edged thing trying to tear its way out was something I hadn't ever let myself feel toward her.

Anger.

"I need to cut the cake," I said slowly, unclenching my fists. "Please excuse me."

Ben put his hands on the table. "Do you need help?"

I clung to politeness so I wouldn't scream. "No, thank you." I got up, walked calmly out of the dining room, through the kitchen, past the beautifully frosted cake, and straight out the back door.

Instead of going to my house, I walked to the fire pit and pulled my phone out of my dress pocket. Nicole was on a hot date with someone who wasn't Jay, but her calm matter-of-factness wasn't what I wanted.

Kieran would be in the middle of service. He wouldn't reply for hours, if at all. But I needed to imagine his happy grin, his warm callused hand in mine, his arms around me.

I pressed RECORD . "Hey. So we're in the middle of dinner, but I'm hiding outside. Tell me something. Am I invisible? I thought I was a real person, with flesh and bones, and thoughts and feelings, but apparently not." I looked up, but a thick layer of summer fog hid the stars. "I thought I'd be OK taking care of other people. Being Hank's sister, Max's wife. I'm safe now. No one's going to make me move for no reason or worry about money. But making other people happy isn't the same as being happy." I rubbed my eyes. "I want to be happy like you, Kieran. I want to have fun. But I don't know where to begin. Do you know how? Please tell me."

I pressed SEND . Then, groaning, I opened a second memo. "I'm sorry, that was incredibly maudlin and self-pitying. You can just delete both of these messages. I hope you're OK."

"Ellie?" Ben called from the back door.

Had he heard? I pocketed my phone and called back, "Over here, Aba."

His steps across the grass were more careful than they'd been when we'd first met. He still had a standing tennis date with three other doctors, and he worked with a personal trainer every week. But that didn't change the fact that he was almost seventy. I rubbed my chest as I felt my heart twist. "I'm sorry, I'll come back in."

"You don't have anything to apologize for. You've been working hard; you deserve a break." He rested his hands on the chair across from me and looked up at the fog. "The young man who was here with you yesterday."

"Kieran. I'm writing his cookbook," I said carefully.

"Right, Kieran." He paused. "The soup was a smart idea."

"It was." She'd only had a teacupful, but that teacup was full of butter and cream.

"He seems like a kind man," he said, like he was parsing every word. "Caring."

"I know he's not Max," I said to reassure him.

Ben cocked his head. "Of course he's not. But that doesn't mean he can't be special. That he shouldn't be."

I raised my head, surprised. He was right, Kieran was special. He was mischievous and fun and he looked at me like he didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky to get to spend time with me. I let myself bask a little in the warmth of that feeling, grateful that Ben had brought it to light.

"Next year," Ben said firmly.

"What about it?" I asked quietly.

He shook his head. "I don't think we should do this next year. The dinner. We need to change how we remember him."

For a moment, all the work, all the emotion, lifted off my shoulders. But then I thought of what Diane would say, and it slammed back down again.

W HEN EVERYONE HAD left, all I wanted to do was put my feet up on my couch and read. But when I got back to the cottage, Hank had beaten me to it. "Hey," I said to my sprawled-out brother as I closed the door on the night.

Hank grunted as he stole a car on Grand Theft Auto . "How'd it go?"

"You didn't miss much by not coming. You'd have been bored out of your mind. Have you eaten? I brought back some beef if you want to make a sandwich."

"Mac 'n' cheese," he said.

"I can see that." I held back a grimace at the thought of cleaning dried-up cheese sauce off stainless steel. "You planning on going to bed anytime soon?" I asked, grabbing his dirty pot and running water into it.

"Nah. I'm going to finish this level, then go meet someone."

"This late?"

He blushed. "It's someone from Tinder."

At least someone was getting some. "Will you be back tonight?"

"Don't know."

"Hank, if you come back in the middle of the night…" I groaned. He'd wake me up. And then I'd have to listen to him get ready for bed, and then he'd snore, and then I'd have to go to work with Kieran on three hours of sleep, again .

"I'll be quiet," Hank said, believing every word.

I couldn't hold back a huge sigh. "OK, well, let me know."

He turned around and his forehead furrowed. "You OK, Shrimp?"

I tried to smile. "Long night."

He finally paused the game. "Do you want a hug? You must miss him a lot."

Bless him, at least he noticed some things. "I do. And sure." For a second I enjoyed his embrace, but I could feel every one of his muscles pulling him back to his game, so I let him go.

Ten minutes of gunfire and gangster rap later, he wandered out the door.

"You want to come out, bud?" I called to Floyd, but he stayed in his hideout. OK, then. Teakettle. Mint tea bag. Romance novel. But I was reading the same page of snarky banter over and over again, and decided to stare at the ceiling instead.

Why was it so fucking easy for everyone else? What would it be like to pick some random guy on Tinder, and damn the consequences? I'd tied myself into so many knots to try to please everyone else that here I was, as bound and gagged as a heroine kidnapped by the villain in one of my books. Except the villain was me, too.

But Kieran wanted to untie me from the railroad tracks. He'd listened, and reassured. He'd stepped up and helped, when I hadn't known I'd needed it.

I listened back to my voice note a few times, cringing at every "um" and "ah," and when I heard how my voice drifted up at the end, my face contorted.

Who'd want to sleep with someone who sounded that desperate?

Kieran

After nine, the kitchen slowed down. The dishwashers were still working, but the stream of tickets had slowed to a drip. I could stop thinking about timings and platings and allergies, and once again Ellie came to center stage in my head.

Was she OK? Were Max's friends nice to her? Or did they just take her sweet, generous Ellieness for granted, the way Hank and Ben and Diane did?

My fingers twitched, wishing for my phone. I did my best to forget it existed when I was working, but it looked like tonight was going to be the exception.

"Chef, I'm taking five," I called to Steve, and he nodded.

Instead of sitting in front of my locker and recentering myself like Dr. Meyer had taught me, I stepped outside, where the air smelled like someone's cigarette break.

Ellie had left me two voice notes. She'd gone back to work after doing this hugely stressful dinner? She was such a workaholic. Or she doesn't know what else to do with herself .

"Hey," her voice said, high and tight.

Oh, no. This wasn't about work at all.

When she finished by hoping that I was OK, I listened again, and again. She sounded lost and lonely. So, so lonely.

The fog had blown in, and I wished on a star I couldn't see that I could go to her right now, tuck her in on her sofa with Floyd and a cup of tea, and do my best to make her laugh. Yelling at Ben and Diane for hurting her would be a bonus.

"Chef?" Manny called from the doorway. "We need you. Last-minute VIPs, and they want to meet you."

I put her sadness in the back of my mind, but it curled up there as I sorted through the last of the night's tickets, as I wiped down my station, as I said good night to everyone. I could record a voice note for her. But maybe she needed more than that. I sat down in front of my locker and tapped her name on my screen.

"Kieran? Everything OK?" she answered on the third ring. Her voice garbled through the phone as she yawned.

"I'm sorry. I woke you up."

"No, I'm awake. I've just been watching you."

How was she watching me? That was weird.

"On Fire on High ?" she said. "I don't know what the hell Rainbow was thinking, trying to put cotton candy on a soup."

Oh . "Yeah, that was ridiculous. At one point she was trying to make edible hairspray so it wouldn't dissolve, and she only had ten minutes left. One of the nicest people you'll ever meet, though." I twisted my apron with my free hand. "I got your messages."

I could hear her embarrassed blush. "I'm so sorry I bugged you during service. You can ignore them. It was just me rambling."

"Don't be sorry," I said quickly. "Sounds like you had a rough time tonight."

"It's fine," she said just as fast, then stopped cold. She took a deep breath. "No, it wasn't. It was really hard. But you saying that makes it better."

"How are you doing now?" I asked gently.

A rustle, like she was shifting position. "I'm just keeping on keeping on. If I've learned anything in the past three years, sometimes all I can do is endure."

She deserved so much more than just enduring. "Have you got my boy Floyd there? I know he's selfish, but he wouldn't like you to be so sad."

"I love that he's your boy." Her warm voice stroked down my spine and I shivered. "But I haven't seen him much since Hank came. I can't really blame him. It's been busy." She exhaled. "I don't know why I sent those notes. I have a great job, and a nice place to live. I'm ungrateful."

Baby. Love. Sweet girl. I bit them all back. "Do you feel sad a lot?"

She paused. I thought for a second she would avoid the question, but then she said, "Yeah. But I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be used to it."

"Why not? Millions of people in the world are alone."

I hated that little bit of bleakness in her voice. "I don't think all of them are as sweet as you," shot out of my mouth.

"You think I'm sweet?"

Oh, crap. But she didn't sound mad. Just… surprised. And a little amused. "Yeah?"

The low laugh that I'd heard in the back of her voice appeared. "I should have recorded this call for posterity. On the list of adjectives I'd have thought you'd use for me, that's number, like, three thousand and three."

"I know you better now. You are, Ellie. Anyone who gets to spend time with you is lucky."

The air was getting heavier and heavier, and I was about to make a dumb joke about her list of adjectives, when she said, "I'm so tired of being good. But it feels selfish not to help people when I know what they want, and I can give it to them."

Her confession sat between us, raw and delicate. "Ellie?" I said slowly, not wanting to spook her.

"Yeah?"

"You can be bad with me."

A long silence. "What do you mean?"

"Not, like, do crimes. I mean, you can tell me everything you want, and I won't think you're selfish, or ungrateful. You'll just be you."

She exhaled, and I wanted to hold her when she did that, run my hands up and down her back to soothe her. "You make me feel," she started.

My fingers clamped around my phone. "I make you feel what?"

"Free." The way she said it, like it was a revelation. "Can I come over?"

I stood up like I'd touched a live wire. "To my place? Wait, do you mean come over or come over ?" Oh, awesome, Kieran. Maybe she just wants you to hug her again. Don't turn it into something dirty.

"The second one," her husky voice interrupted. "The one where we're naked in your bed."

Pinching myself actually hurt. "Yes. Yes . I mean, are you sure?"

I could hear her snarky smile. "There's a saying about gifts and horses and mouths which I'm sure you're familiar with."

Mouths, fuck . I'd wanted her smart mouth for what felt like forever.

"Please, Kieran," she said, all her sass gone, and every atom in my body popped champagne at those two begging words.

"Come over now." But my apartment was gross, I smelled gross, and I didn't have condoms. "Wait, no, an hour. Come in an hour. Here's my address." As I recited it, I tried to strip off my chef's jacket one-handed. No dice. I hung up on Ellie saying, "See you soon," and scrambled.