ㅤ
By ten on Saturday morning, Mira had asked whether it was nearly supper six times.
ㅤ
I gave her a potato to wash. That occupied her until she decided Sir Flopsy needed to supervise from the windowsill, where he could see the courtyard and the kitchen at once.
ㅤ
“His ears are clean,” she told me.
ㅤ
“That's useful. Mine aren't.”
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She inspected me gravely. “You should wash them before Mommy comes.”
ㅤ
I promised to consider it.
ㅤ
The apartment was as tidy as I could make it without hiding everything we owned. I folded my bedding against the wall, cleared the stack of exercises from the table, and moved the specialist's appointment note into my notebook. The yellow paper flower Evelyn had sent home after our date stayed in the window. Mira had been firm about that.
ㅤ
The honey bread was my one uncertain experiment. I'd baked it in Mrs. Fenwick's oven that morning, with Mira watching from a safe distance. It smelled good. Whether the middle had cooked was a question I couldn't answer without cutting into it, and Mira had declared that doing so before Evelyn arrived would ruin the surprise.
ㅤ
“It's bread,” I said. “Not a birthday present.”
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“Then why did you put the nice cloth over it?”
ㅤ
I had no defense.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
At four, Mr. Pell knocked to return a kitchen knife he'd sharpened for me. He surveyed the vegetables, the clean floor, and Mira wearing the ribbon she'd chosen for her hair.
ㅤ
“Company?”
ㅤ
“Evelyn's coming for supper.”
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“Ah.” He handed over the knife, handle first. “Your pot's got a loose handle. Don't carry it full.”
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“Thank you.”
ㅤ
“And don't let the child answer the door while you're cooking.”
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Mira, standing directly behind me, said, “I wasn't going to.”
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Mr. Pell looked at her.
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“I was going to tell Daddy you were here first.”
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“Much better.”
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After he left, I set the loose-handled pot aside and used the smaller one. Mira set four places, though only three had bowls. Sir Flopsy received a folded napkin.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
Evelyn arrived while I was trying to persuade the stew not to stick.
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Mira reached the door before I did but stopped with her hand hovering near the latch. “Daddy, she's here!”
ㅤ
“I can see that.”
ㅤ
I opened it. Evelyn stood in a dark blue dress beneath a traveling cloak, her silver hair pinned back with a simple comb. She held a small paper parcel in both hands.
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“I wasn't sure what to bring,” she said. “You said not to bring anything, so I brought something small.”
ㅤ
“That is an impressive interpretation.”
ㅤ
“I'm told I can be difficult.”
ㅤ
Mira was already peering around my elbow. “Mommy!”
ㅤ
Evelyn crouched before Mira could collide with her. Mira hugged her, carefully avoiding the parcel, and Evelyn rested a hand against the back of her head.
ㅤ
“Hello, Mira.”
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“Sir Flopsy has a seat. Daddy says you can have carrots, but he forgot to ask if you like them.”
ㅤ
“I do like carrots.”
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Mira turned to me. “See?”
ㅤ
“Excellent research. Come inside, Evelyn.”
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
The parcel contained three little fruit tarts from a bakery near the academy. Evelyn looked faintly embarrassed when she saw the honey bread under its cloth.
ㅤ
“I should have asked about dessert.”
ㅤ
“Now we have two.”
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“Can we eat both?” Mira asked.
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“After supper,” we said together.
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Mira stared at us, then laughed so hard she had to sit down.
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Evelyn hung her cloak by the door. Her gaze passed over the narrow table, Mira's bed, and my bedding folded beside the wall. She didn't ask where I slept. I was glad, though I wished I had somewhere better to put my blanket.
ㅤ
“Can I help?” she asked.
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“You can keep Mira away from the stove. Mr. Pell has concerns about the pots.”
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“I heard that,” Mira said.
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“You were meant to.”
ㅤ
Evelyn washed her hands and took over the carrots. Mira stood beside her on a stool, well away from the knife, offering commentary on each piece. When Evelyn cut one too thick, Mira pointed it out. Evelyn thanked her and cut the next thinner.
ㅤ
I watched them for a moment before returning to the stew.
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***
ㅤ
The meal wasn't elegant. The vegetables had softened more than I'd intended, and I had to fetch another spoon because I'd set mine down somewhere impossible. Evelyn ate without pretending it was a banquet or making an elaborate point of enjoying plain food.
ㅤ
“It's good,” she said after the first few bites.
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“The potatoes survived. That's my standard.”
ㅤ
“I helped wash them,” Mira said.
ㅤ
“Then we have you to thank.”
ㅤ
Sir Flopsy's napkin slipped from his chair. Mira climbed down to rescue it, then asked Evelyn whether she'd ever had a rabbit.
ㅤ
“No. I had a cat when I was little.”
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“What was its name?”
ㅤ
“Captain.”
ㅤ
“Was he a captain?”
ㅤ
“Not officially. He acted as though he owned the house.”
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Mira considered Sir Flopsy. “He doesn't own this house. Daddy pays for it.”
ㅤ
“Rent,” I corrected.
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“That's what I said.”
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Evelyn covered her mouth with her napkin. Her shoulders moved.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
After supper, Mira insisted on showing Evelyn the drawing she'd made of our house. Evelyn studied the three large windows and the tiny one near the roof.
ㅤ
“Is that an attic?”
ㅤ
“It's Sir Flopsy's room. He can see outside.”
ㅤ
“He has excellent accommodation.”
ㅤ
“He needs stairs, though.”
ㅤ
Mira fetched a pencil and began adding them. Evelyn stayed beside her while I cleared the table. When I returned, they'd built an improbable staircase along the outside wall, complete with a landing where a rabbit could rest.
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“Are you sure he'll use it?” I asked.
ㅤ
“He might get tired,” Mira said.
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Evelyn's expression was entirely serious. “We should include a railing.”
ㅤ
They added one.
ㅤ
The room felt different with another adult in it. There was someone to answer Mira when my hands were wet, someone to move a chair while I carried dishes, someone whose opinion Mira could request without turning toward me. It wasn't an arrangement I had any right to assume would last. Tonight, I was grateful for it.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
We cut the honey bread first. The middle was cooked. I felt a degree of relief usually reserved for passing examinations.
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Mira ate half her slice before remembering the tarts.
ㅤ
“Can I have that too?”
ㅤ
“You can have a little,” I said. “We can save the rest for tomorrow.”
ㅤ
Evelyn divided one tart into three small pieces. Mira chose the piece with the most fruit, which left Evelyn and me with the less interesting corners.
ㅤ
“Fair division,” Evelyn said.
ㅤ
“She's six,” I said.
ㅤ
“I'm nearly seven.”
ㅤ
“You haven't told me when your birthday is,” Evelyn said.
ㅤ
Mira's fork stopped.
ㅤ
I set my cup down. There were things about the future she remembered clearly and things that left her distressed when she tried to explain them. I didn't know which kind her birthday belonged to.
ㅤ
“You don't have to remember right now,” I said.
ㅤ
Mira looked at Evelyn. “I know there was a cake with strawberries.”
ㅤ
“That sounds lovely,” Evelyn said. “We can make a strawberry cake someday, whether it's your birthday or not.”
ㅤ
Mira resumed eating. I made a note to ask Mrs. Fenwick when strawberries were in season.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
By the time the dishes were done, Mira had begun leaning against Evelyn's arm. She protested when I suggested bed, but her eyes were closing between sentences.
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“One story,” she bargained.
ㅤ
“One,” I agreed.
ㅤ
She chose the book about the fox who borrowed a farmer's hat. Evelyn sat on the edge of Mira's bed while I read. Mira interrupted twice to correct my voices, then reached for Evelyn's hand without opening her eyes.
ㅤ
When the story ended, she held on.
ㅤ
“Are you coming again?” she asked.
ㅤ
“If Adrian invites me,” Evelyn said.
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“I will,” I told her.
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“Not just for supper?”
ㅤ
“Not just for supper.”
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Mira released Evelyn's hand. “Okay.”
ㅤ
I tucked Sir Flopsy beside her, blue cloak and all. We left the lamp low and returned to the table.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
For a while Evelyn and I spoke quietly about ordinary things. Her practical class had been assigned a new instructor who insisted on calling every error an opportunity. My students were trying a shared exercise next week, provided Tomas agreed. The seminar still needed a diagram we could both stand behind.
ㅤ
Then she glanced toward Mira's bed.
ㅤ
“I'm glad you invited me.”
ㅤ
“So am I.”
ㅤ
“I was nervous.”
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“You didn't look it.”
ㅤ
“I wasn't sure what she'd expect from me. Or what you would.”
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I turned my cup between my hands. “I hoped you'd have a good evening. I didn't expect you to know how to do any of this.”
ㅤ
“She calls me Mommy.”
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“I know.”
ㅤ
“I like hearing it.” Evelyn paused. “Sometimes I worry that liking it means I'm promising her something I don't understand.”
ㅤ
“That worries me too.”
ㅤ
She looked at me, and I was glad I'd said it plainly.
ㅤ
“We can tell her what we're doing,” I said. “You're visiting. We're spending time together. We don't have to explain the rest before we understand it ourselves.”
ㅤ
“And if she asks again whether I'm your girlfriend?”
ㅤ
“Then I should probably stop making you answer for me.”
ㅤ
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Probably?”
ㅤ
“I'd like you to be. If that's what you want.”
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She looked down at the table for a moment. “Yes, Adrian. It is.”
ㅤ
I reached for her hand. She turned hers over and threaded her fingers through mine.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
When she rose to leave, I fetched her cloak. She put it on slowly, as though she was considering something, then stepped close enough that I could see a loose strand of silver hair beside her cheek.
ㅤ
“May I kiss you?” she asked.
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
It was brief, warm, and slightly awkward because I hadn't expected her to ask first. When she drew back, she smiled at my expression.
ㅤ
“I'll see you Monday,” she said.
ㅤ
“Monday.”
ㅤ
“Unless Mira has another seating plan before then.”
ㅤ
“She probably does.”
ㅤ
I watched from the doorway until she reached the stairs.
