All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Chapter 5 - Part II

LIZZIE HADN'T CRIED LIKE THIS since she was a kid. Weakness got you pushed around like Mama. Lizzie never wanted to need a man like that. Not even if she was the last girl on earth and the world needed to be repopulated. She sobbed harder. But here she was at the end of the world, and she felt like she needed Zach desperately.

The water went cold. She gritted her teeth, slammed the knob in, and stood up, grabbing a fluffy towel. One of the good ’guest' towels. It felt good. Not scratchy like the old ones Mama made them use. Like they ever had guests.

She hoped Zach hadn’t heard her crying. Just because she needed him a little, didn’t mean he had to know it. She wiped the fog from the long mirror on the back of the door and checked to see if her eyes were puffy. She’d looked like shit in general, so he probably wouldn’t notice. Still, she ran a washcloth under cold water and pressed it to her eyes. One of Mama’s tricks of maintaining dignity.

All the bedrooms were on the other side of the kitchen from the bathroom. She had no clothes other than the vomit covered ones, so she had no choice but to wrap herself in a towel and walk past him.

She opened the door and hustled down the hall, something smelled good in the kitchen; she slowed enough to glance in. He looked up from cooking and his eyes got bigger. She hurried past and took the stairs to her room two at a time, shouting, “Back down in a minute.”

Her clothes strewn on the floor in various piles still looked like a mess. Lizzie yanked a black knit skirt her friend Nev called cute from her “mostly clean” darks pile. No. The last thing she wanted was cute. She tossed the skirt aside and grabbed some jeans, holes worn in, not cut for effect. She needed a bra, or did she? Mama’s voice nagged in her head: “You don't want to sag faster than gravity requires.” She picked a bra and then pulled on a t-shirt, from one of the light “clean” piles. Its writing looked like Asian Kanji characters, but said “Fuck you” if you looked at it sideways. She remembered with a smile how long it had taken Mama to catch on; her teachers never noticed.

She shrugged at herself in the mirror; her boobs were too obvious so she put on an army fatigue shirt to complete the outfit. That was better. She didn’t want to give Zach any ideas.

The smell of whatever was cooking wafted up the stairs to her room. Bacon? Her empty stomach tugged her downstairs. She padded gently into the kitchen wanting an element of surprise. Zach had his back to her, stirring something in a skillet.

“Smells delicious.”

He spun around wielding the spatula like a knife.

“On guard,” she said. She was glad to see he was nervous too, but she felt a little guilty—she knew that what she had been through put her on edge.

“You look less dead,” Zach said, lowering his spatula.

“Thanks. You’re pretty handy with that spatula. Should be useful if we get into a deadly food fight.”

He smiled at her with the same goofy, lopsided grin Lizzie remembered.

“What's for dinner?” Lizzie asked, peeking at the sizzling skillet.

“Breakfast. Found some bacon in the back of the freezer and you had a few eggs. Hope you like 'em scrambled.”

“You mean we had something that wasn’t frozen or in a box?” She lifted down the last clean plates; the sink overflowed with dirty dishes. Jerkwad always hounded her about the dishes and she was pleased not to do that particular chore anymore. “How’d you learn how to cook?”

“Contemporary Living class and cooking shows on YouTube.” He shrugged.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Dad and I moved in with Grandpa after mom kicked him out. None of us could cook. So I had to learn a few things.”

Lizzie took the open beer out of the fridge.

Zach snatched it out of her hand and replaced it with a glass of orange juice. “How about O.J. instead?”

It was the perfect accompaniment for breakfast dinner. She thought about adding vodka, but Zach seemed pretty determined to clean her up. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let Zach think he could tell her what to do. But the thought of more alcohol did make her queasy, so she let it slide. She chugged down half the glass; it was cold and sweet. “Mmm, where did you get it?” She knew it hadn’t come from her fridge.

“Raided your neighbor’s freezer.”

Lizzie laughed, realizing how unnecessary her trek to the Fred Meyer had been. Plenty of stocked fridges and freezers all around.