Shadows

“Done freaking out now?” Alex asks, gliding into the kitchen where I am cooking dinner. Viv is out, she took Lily with her. Dave is at work, for another three hours. Dinner is my responsibility tonight.

I send Alex my most venomous glare, he enjoys making fun of me.
I send Alex my most venomous glare, he loves humiliating me.

Alex grins, confirming his love of making me miserable.
Alex grins, confirming that I cannot stay upset with him.

“So…I’ll take that as yes, you are done. Seeing as you’re not busy, I know what we should do!”

Not busy, I am standing in front of a hot stove cooking dinner for my family.
Not busy, how is cooking not busy?

I furrow my brows and motion to the steaming pots in front of me.

“Yeah, I know. You’re cooking, but this is going to be so much more fun.”

I shake my head from side to side.
I wonder if Alex has many friends because he’s her so much.
I wonder if Alex considers me his friend.
I wonder if Alex talks to me because no one talks to him

“Fine, okay! I’ll help you finish and then you’ll do something with me?”

Hesitantly, I nod my head in agreement.
Hesitantly, I motion to the pot of boiling potatoes on the stove.

“What?” Alex asks.

I motion to the pot, and then to the sink.
I try to get my point across without having to write.

“Drain the potatoes?”

I nod my head, indicated how annoyed I am for his not understanding.
I nod my head, focusing my attention on other side dishes.

I am preparing carrots when it happens, when he screams.

“Fuck! Oh my fucking God!”

I spin around, watching in surprise as Alex holds his forearm.
I spin around, watching as Alex crouches down.
I spin around, watching as Alex’s face contorts in pain.

I finally notice the potatoes all over the floor.
I finally notice the flood of hot water around my sneakers.
I finally notice the pot at his feet.

Alex spilled the boiling water on his arm.

I push Alex to the sink, I force his arm under cold water.

Alex reacts badly to my help.
“What the fuck, Carson! That fucking hurts!”

I shake my head angrily, and I leave Alex by the sink.
I continue cooking, listening to the water running.

“How long do I have to keep my arm under here?” Alex asks quietly.

I turn the heat down on everything.
I turn the water off.
I turn around.
I turn the handle.

In the bathroom, I take out the first aid kit.
In the bathroom, Alex won’t look at me.
In the bathroom, I wrap Alex’s forearm loosely in gauze.

I put the first kit back in its place.
I put myself back in my place, cooking dinner.

“Thanks.” Alex muttered, cleaning up the mess on the floor.