Salvation {h.s}

seven

play the song when you see ***

The next morning

Waking up to the sound of clanking pans coming from the kitchen isn't the most pleasant thing ever, especially not while having a drilling headache. 

Rubbing my eyes, I stumble out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen. Ruth is standing there, attempting to make breakfast for us both with her hair up in two buns. She has a bowl of eggs balanced precariously on her hip, while in her free hand, she holds a spatula and a container of milk. Despite her best efforts, it looks like she's having difficulty finding the right ingredients and methodology for making breakfast. 

The kitchen is an array of chaos as pots and pans are littered every surface available - some filled with whisked eggs, others freshly cleaned dishes from last night's dinner. 

I take a deep breath, trying not to laugh at her attempts. The eggs are broken in the bowl and she starts pouring milk into it with a confused expression on her face, as if she's not quite sure what she should do next. I move closer to get a better look and notice that she also pulled out some spices from the cupboard, setting them up neatly on the countertop next to her.

"What exactly are you making?" I ask, fighting a smile. A look of confusion crosses her face before she throws her head back and lets out a loud sigh. "I was going to make scrambled eggs, but I guess I got carried away!" she says with a shrug.

She hands me an egg-laden spoon with a questioning look in her eye. I raise an eyebrow at her.

"This is weird, you know? You usually sleep till lunch," I point out. Her eyebrows furrow as she watches the eggs. "You want something." I guess.

"What! Noooo!" She shifts her weight nervously.

"Ruth."

"I just—can I stay here for a couple of days?" She mumbles.

I shake my head slowly. "Told you already. I won't be home for a few days now."

She opens her mouth to protest. "But Dad won't mind! He's always in the hospital anyway!"

I nod with a small smile and turn back to the stovetop. "I told him we're coming after breakfast so get dressed and I'll finish the breakfast hm?"

"Ugh fine," she rolls her eyes as she typically does and disappears in her room.

I finish cooking the eggs and put them on the table, along with some toast and orange juice. As I sit down to eat, I can't help but feel a sense of anxiety. How do I explain to my dad that I won't be home because I'm going on a vacation to Jamaica with my patient who happens to be Harry Styles? I actually don't even fucking know if I'm going yet because another thing I'm anxious about is telling this to my boss who wants to fuck me.

After breakfast, I drive Ruth to my dad's house and the whole drive there she keeps asking me where exactly am I going and for how long and I'm starting to feel like I'm in an interrogation. 

"Hey there, kiddo," my dad opens the door wearing his typical dad flannel and dad glasses. Sometimes I think this man was just born to be a father.

"Come on in. I've got some fresh cookies right from the oven. Your favourite eh?"

"Fuck yeah!" Ru's face lights up at the mention of cookies.

"Languaaaaage." my Dad rolls his eyes as he leads us into the kitchen, where the aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies fills the air. He hands each of us a warm cookie and we sit down at the kitchen table to catch up.

"I need oat milk with this" Ruth states as she takes a few steps and starts sweeping the fridge, my dad and I look at each other and chuckle. 

"I read this interesting article this morning about this famous singer dating his therapist and you're in this field so I wanted to know what you think 'bout it"