past the point of love
laying low
Noah was trying to get this straight. Exactly what happened to Josie’s Dad.
1. he was drunk.
2. he was mad that she didn’t clean the kitchen.
3. he thought she had a boy in her room because it was locked.
4. when he jerked the bedroom door down, she hit him with a frying pan.
“You keep a frying pan in your room?” He couldn’t quite picture it. “Yeah.” She was crying.
“Look, no one comes to the basement. We don’t even do our laundry down here anymore. You can stay as long as you like. OK?” Noah said. Josie nodded as if she might fall apart on him any second.
“Just get cleaned up,” he showed her to the shower. “I’ll make you something to eat. I’m sure your Dad is just fine.” Noah wasn’t going to lose his cool. It was just some blood on the kitchen floor. OK, the sink too. It wasn’t like a blood bath, but then something had happen. There was plenty of it.
What if he cut himself? Her Dad was probably at the bar, already.
Noah ran up the basement stairs to get started on some scrambled eggs. He found some hash browns in the freezer. This was better, he thought. Scrambled eggs made her queasy. He remembered.. He jerked out a steel frying pan then and stared at it. He supposed the one she used was cast iron. Those were heavy and could pack a wallop. But she remembered he wasn’t bleeding. Noah sighed.
No way would he be harboring a murderer. Would he? No, not Josie. Josie saved chipmunks, bunnies and birds. She never cut her hair, not a strand would be dyed. She was really one with nature. It was just her Dad was fucking everything up.
Noah got the skillet hot with a little oil. Then tossed in the frozen hash browns. He’d have a plate of hash browns waiting for her when she got out of the shower.
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