Together Under Our Roof

Silence rose in the kitchen, awkward tension filling the air between Michael and Misty as they worked quietly in the kitchen. Misty was standing at the sink, washing the vegetables as Michael stood at the counter, marinating the meat to ready it for dinner. Misty refused to say a word to Michael, unsure of what to say to him. Michael did not have a clue as to what he should say to Misty so he quietly went about the dinner preparations.

They stood far apart, avoiding contact with each other to keep any events from occurring like the events of that morning. When they got a foot in each others’ visionary area, they jumped back, not hiding the avoidance.

As they worked, they both looked for words to say with no success. They worked alone and in silence, the silence bearing down on them heavily. The sound of Misty’s vegetable chopping echoed through the air eerily. Michael flinched as the knife hit the cutting board.

After he had finished prepping the meat, he slowly moved closer to Misty, cautiously watching her every move. He needed to wash his hands but she was at the sink.

“Excuse me,” Michael breathed out deeply, only a foot behind Misty. Startled, Misty twirled around, the knife in her hands pointed to the ceiling as she let out a squeak. Michael jumped backwards out of the knife’s range.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Misty shrieked as she put the knife down behind her.

“Sorry, I was just going to wash my hands,” Michael retorted as he moved toward the sink, pushing Misty away as he turned on the faucet. Misty moved aside, inching away toward the stove. Her hand accidentally slipped off a knob and one of the fires grew as it was turned on. Misty paid no attention as she watched Michael wash his hands.

Michael looked up, looking over at Misty who was staring at him.

“Holy shit!” Michael exclaimed as he ran toward Misty, grabbing her wrist and pulling him towards him as he reached behind her to turn off the stove’s fire.

Misty squealed when she hit Michael’s chest. When she looked back, she saw that the fire on the stove had been turned on and she watched in horror as he turned it off, thinking about what could have happened had he not pulled her away.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his chest without looking up. When she tried to push herself away from Michael, he held a firm grip on her arms, pulling her away and looking her up and down, searching her for any injuries.

Misty was startled by his sudden reaction and was surprised when she saw sincere concern in his eyes. As he twisted her around, lifting up her arms and face, looking at each place to make sure she was not hurt, Misty watched him with amusement.

“I’m fine,” Misty finally said giggling when Michael ran a finger down her side, tickling her. Michael turned red, letting her go immediately.

“Sorry, I was just worried,” he apologized, tucking his hands in his pockets before stepping back.

Misty continued to giggle, the ticklish feeling still lingering in her body. Michael watched curiously as she giggled while chopping the remainder of the vegetables. Then the realization hit him.

“You’re not ticklish are you?” Michael asked, a devilish grin forming at the corners of his mouth. Misty’s smile disappeared as her face drained of any color. She had made a mistake. She had shown her weakness to the worst person. She tried to quickly deny Michael’s question and returned her attention back to the vegetables.

Hurriedly, she gathered what would soon be the dinner and moved to the stove. All the while, she could feel Michael’s conniving smile follow her around the kitchen.

Ignoring his eyes, she went to the cupboard and reached up, balancing on her toes as she tried to get a pan down. She was almost able to touch one of the pans when she lost her balance.

Michael walked over to her, holding her side to balance her as he easily grabbed one of the pans down for Misty.

“Clumsy, aren’t you?” Michael snickered before giving her the pan. Misty grabbed the pan and started the fire on the stove, ignoring his last remark.

Michael went back to his seat at the table as he watched Misty cook the dinner skillfully. He watched as she grilled the rib-eyes until they were a crisp brown and then sautéed the vegetables and then season them perfectly, setting them nicely on two plates. After putting the dirty utensils in the sink, she brought the plates to the table and set them in front of Michael and herself.

After many attempts of failed small talk and many moans of pleasure from Misty as she ate to her heart’s content, Michael and Misty sat in silence as both did not want to get up to do the dishes.

“You’re a great cook,” Michael complimented. Misty blushed, waving away the compliment.

“I have to do what I can to live alone. Having good food was a way to keep me alive,” Misty said, a bit of sarcasm biting at the sentence.

“Why are you alone? You’re only a high school student, right?” Michael inquired, realizing the situation before him. Misty’s head went limp. Michael saw a look of sadness take over her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Misty snapped. Michael was taken aback but he did not show his hurt.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” he apologized. Misty looked up pitifully, then she sighed deeply.

“You didn’t know,” she said, trying to comfort Michael. Reluctantly, she got up and took the plates to the sink, where she set them down and set to work washing them thoroughly.

“Sneak attack!” Misty yelped and shrieked as Michael came up behind her, tickling her ferociously.

She dropped whatever was in her hands and turned around laughing, trying to stop Michael from tickling her further. She was unsuccessful as he continued to tickle her sides. Misty could not help but double over laughing, begging for Michael to stop.

“Stop!” she shrieked as another fit of laughter over took her. Laughing as Misty kicked and screamed, Michael lifted her up while still tickling her and carried her to the couch where he tossed her and left her in a fit of angry laughter.

When Misty fell into the couch, her laughter died down, causing her stomach to hurt. She looked over at Michael who had walked back to the sink and had continued to wash the dishes she had left in the sink.

“I can wash them you know,” Misty said worriedly. Michael only looked over at her and smile.

“You made me delicious food. This is the least I could do,” Michael returned, whistling as he continued to wash.

Misty watched him, cuddling into the crook of the couch. She noticed that the couch smelled much like Michael. Her eyes began to get heavy, her mind drifting away. She wrapped her arms around herself, deepening her position into the couch as she drifted out of consciousness.

When Michael returned to the couch, he saw Misty fast asleep on the couch. She had a small smile on her face as she steadily breathed. He crouched down next to her and tried to shake her awake but she did not wake up and only moved deeper into the couch. He chuckled at her and stood up. Slowly to not wake her up, he slid his arm under her, lifting her up carefully and then he slowly carried her to her room.

When he got her in his arms, she quickly curled up to his chest and let a tear slip from her eyes. She tightly gripped his shirt and hid her face in his chest mumbling something quietly. Startled by her tears, Michael wiped a tear from her cheek without dropping her.

Slowly, he proceeded to her room and set Misty down into her bed. When he got her into the futon, he tried to loosen her grip on his shirt but when he did, she whimpered.

“Don’t leave daddy,” she begged, tears flowing down her cheeks. Frightened, Michael wiped her tears away, trying to wake her up but her cries got deeper and he got more confused.

“Don’t worry, I’ll never leave. I promise,” he finally whispered lightly into her ear. She started to calm down, releasing her grip on Michael. She settled back into her futon with a whimper. Michael wiped away some straying tears before he left her room quietly.

“What the hell has she been through?” he sighed before retiring to his own couch.