Chapter 18: Chapter 18

"The one superficial thing I believe in is Bigfoot." I say and sip my beer as Mr. Robinson makes an exaggerated choking sound.

"What?!" He says and I burst into laughter at the look on his face.

"You're kidding." He says, toying with his chopsticks and I just shake my head.

"You get to believe in the lochness moster, so I get to believe in Bigfoot." I say and he frowns at me.

"I don't believe in the lochness monster, I just don't doubt that there is a possible underwater sea creature." He says and I nudge him with my feet thanks to our sitting position.

We are both on the couch, with the spare blanket draped over our bodies and sitting opposite each other.

So my leg is pressed up to his side and his legs are pressed up to mine.

How we ended up here is still a mystery. One minute I'm paying for the food while he is getting beer from the fridge, the next minute we're watching a movie and the moment I curl up my legs on the couch, he gets a blanket because he thinks I'm cold.

And now...

Now I know he has never slow danced in his life, prefers juice to alcohol and partially believes in the lochness monster.

"So what superficial thing do you believe in?" I ask and he pauses with a piece of shredded chicken halfway to his mouth.

A few seconds pass and he just shrugs and says,

"Nothing."

"That's not possible. There are aliens, ghosts....zombies?" I say and he just gives me a look like I'm loosing my mind.

"You can't possibly say you never even imagined any of these things. Even as a kid? Didn't you hear stories?" I ask and his gaze just drops to his food.

"Stories. Yeah." He mutters with a scoff and drinks from his beer.

"I heard a story when I was kid. A thousand times every night." He says and looks pointedly at me.

"A story I can never forget, no matter how hard I try. The story of Hansel and Gretel." He says and I can't stop looking at him.

Can't stop wondering why he says it like a tragic story.

Can't stop observing the pain in his eyes.

He gives a painful smile as he looks up, away from my gaze, probably trying to recall.

"My mother, she...she raised us by herself, Ronnie and I. An experience that none of us liked. Not her, not me, not Ronnie. And at night she would force us on our knees and read the story of Hansel and Gretel. Then when she was done, she would...uh... she would tell us we reminded her of them. Hansel and Gretel. But..."

He looks at me now, blue eyes glistening with memories.

"But that the only difference was they had a father who loved them, and we dont. And that we never will, and she hated us, she hated how we took her true love from her. That we.....we were just as stubborn and stupid as Hansel and Gretel were. And if we tried anything stupid, she would threaten to abandon us in the woods as well. Then she would hit us and send us to bed."

Oh, my God.

I don't know what to say and I just stare at Mr. Robinson speechless, wondering how he survived such traumatic experience.

He has his eyes on me too, clear pain mirrored in them before he suddenly blinks it off and drinks again.

I snap out of it too and stare down at my dinner of rice and soy sauce, suddenly loosing appetite.

"I....I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring--"

"Its fine." He says and continues eating without so much as a glance at me.

I want to ask him what happened to his mother.

If he is still in touch with her.

If he knows where she lives.

But more importantly,...if he has forgiven her.

I decide to swallow the questions instead and toy with my food.

Change the subject.

You brought it up after all.

Before I can speak, Mr. Robinson beats me to it,

"Its the one superficial thing I wish I could believe in." He says as he drops his pack on the coffee table, clearly done with the food.

"What? A mother?" I ask in a whisper, scared to say anything that will chase away this part of him.

"No..." he says then looks at me.

"A family." He mutters and I can't do this anymore. Can't sit here and watch him rethink all this painful memories, shredding him from the inside.

I don't know what exactly I want to do, all I know is I have dropped my pack as well and I've crawled up to his side of the couch.

Mr. Robinson's eyes are on me the entire time, his expression remaining in blatant surprise and observation.

I maintain eye contact too, expecting him to tell me to stop as I slowly nestle close to him on the wide couch. He takes in a deep, slow breath the minute my head rests on his chest and then I feel his entire body relax.

His right hand comes around and holds me close and his left hand cautiously runs through my hair.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." I whisper and he just holds me closer.

"If it's any consolation....I didn't have a 'mother of the year' either." I say and he adjusts a little, so he is now lying on the couch and not sitting on it.

"How come?" He asks and I listen to the rythm of his heart beat as I speak.

"She left my dad when I was just 16. And...he started having a drinking problem. He lost his job and Tyler and I had to work shifts to pay for our rent. And he just got worse. He would write letters to her, set an extra place for her at the table, laundered all the clothes she left behind...And still kept drinking. Ty and I, we tried to talk to him. But one day he came home and started yelling out her name. I tried to stop him but he took one look at me and thought I was her. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, demanding why I left him. Tyler couldn't take it anymore and called for an ambulance. And.."

I don't realise I'm crying until Mr.Robinson wipes my wet cheek.

"And then they strapped him and made him calm. He apologised to me all the way to the Hospital and I know it wasn't his fault. Then they said he had to go to a Nursing home where he would get good care and he made me promise to take care of Ty. To give him a better upringing than I got." I say and Mr. Robinson nestles his face on my hair.

"I'm sorry, Marcella." He says and I blink.

Marcella.

He just called me Marcella.

"You deserved better than how I treated you. And your brother will get the best I can offer." He says.

"Is that why you've been visiting him?" I blurt out and he freezes.

"Uh...You know?" He asks and I can't help but giggle.

"I found out today."

"It wasn't supposed to be a usual thing, I just...I went to see how he was doing after the accident and he asked me if I wanted to stay and watch a game and--"

"Mr. Robinson. It's fine." I say and look up at him. His blue eyes are a calm, sea colour.

"I never really took time to watch a game or do all that stuff with him. So thanks. He needed it."

He sighs now in a calm way and mutters,

"Me too."

The rest of the night is filled with talks about everything and anything until finally, the incredible warmth from his body heat soothes me to sleep.

*****

"Ky-le!"

Knock, knock, knock.

"Kyle! Open up."

Knock, knock knock.

The unwelcome noise makes me shuffle a little before I blink my eyes open.

Mr. Robinson is up as well and his eyes are on mine now. I can't exactly read his expression but I know its probably the same look I have.

A mixture of realisation and shock and most of all...satisfaction.

We slept off on the couch.

Together.

Again, I'm waking up next to ny boss.

But this time, I seem to like every bit of it.

The problem is...he might not exactly share my view. We both had a vulnerable moment last night but this might be crossing the line.

"Mr. Robinson, I--"

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Kyle Lucas Robinson, you open the door this instant." A female voice says and Mr. Robinson turns to me.

"I have to get the door. Clean this up." He says in a panicky tone.

Of course.

I just nod and watch him scramble out of the couch.

As he heads for the door, I clear the food packs and take the empty bottles into the kitchen.

"Kyle!" A cheerful female voice rings out from the living room and as I walk in to remove the blanket, I spot the black-haired lady hugging Mr. Robinson like he was the last man alive.

"I missed you!" She says as she pulls back to look at him and I stop halfway to the living room when I catch sight of her face.

She has the same blue eyes.

The same raven black hair.

The same pointed nose.

Except her lips are perfectly rounded, compared to Kyle's lips with the sharp cupid's bow.

"I missed you too, Ronnie." He says and plants a kiss on her forehead.

It's not until she spots me that I realize I've been standing here like a complete idiot, instead of taking the blanket off the couch like I should have.

"I'm sorry," she says as her eyes dart to the blanket on the couch.

"I didn't know you had a...guest." she says and I blink in shock.

"What? No, I'm--" I begin but Mr. Robinson interrupts me.

"Ronnie, this is Marcella. My maid." He says and I turn to him in shock.

There he goes again.

Marcella.

Before I can react, she walks over and hugs me like we have been friends since forever.

"Its so nice to finally meet you." She says and I blink at her words.

"Finally?" I ask just as Mr. Robinson leads her away.

"Ronnie, why don't you get comfortable and Marcella will make some breakfast." He says to her while I remove the blanket and she does a double take.

"Get comfortable? Kyle please. I always cook for you every time I visit."

"But, I have a maid for that now." He insists.

"Well, she doesn't mind cooking with me." She says and turns to me.

"Do you?" She asks and I stutter a reply out of shock.

"Yes. I-I mean, no. N-no. Not at all. I don't mind." I say and feel my cheeks turn red as Ronnie laughs.

Or do I call her Miss Robinson?

"What would you like to make,...um...Miss Robinson?" I say and she just blinks at me.

"Miss Robinson?" She repeats and turns to Mr. Robinson.

"You didn't." She says to him and he frowns.

"Didn't what?" He asks.

"For God's sake, Kyle, she is not a child. Being your maid doesn't  make her less of an adult." She scolds and he just rolls his eyes.

"I don't have to be here. Call me when it's ready." He says and heads for the stairs.

"You're coming downstairs anyway!" She yells after him and I just drop the folded blanket on the couch and wait for her instruction.

"Don't worry, you can call me Ronnie. And you don't have to stand at attention with me. What are you in the mood to make?" She asks cheerfully as she drags me into the kitchen.

"Well, on Fridays, Mr. Robinson eats waffles and--"

"Listen, Marcy...can I call you Marcy?" She asks and I just nod, watching her flawless hair bounce as she speaks.

"My brother and I grew up with rules and titles. Food schedule, names starting with 'mister', and lists of what to do and what not to do. It just grew on him and that's why he has this whole Mr. Robinson stuff going on with you. I'm sorry for that. But today, I'm here and you can forego all that schedule and title B.S."

She completes with a bright smile and I shrug.

"Okay."

"Great. So I ask again, what are you in the mood to make?" She says with the same bright smile and it's almost hard to keep up with her constant cheerfulness compared to Mr. Robinson's mood changes.

"Umm...grilled cheese sandwich?" I suggest, going with my favourite breakfast and she just laughs.

"I love grilled cheese sandwiches! With sunnyside eggs as well." She says, blue eyes sparkling and I can't help but smile too.

"You can start the sandwiches, I'll get the eggs." She says and heads for the fridge and I set out the pans, all the while thinking of how the rest of the day will go with Ronnie around.

20 minutes later and we're done. While she pours coffee for herself, I set the table for both she and Mr. Robinson, all the while too conscious of her eyes on me.

"So you do this everyday?" She asks and I look up at her.

"What?" I ask and she walks over to me.

"Set the table for Kyle, prepare his breakfast, laundry, housekeeping and all?" She says and I just shrug, feeling a little embarassed all of a sudden.

Was it kind of a disappointment?

Doing all this?

"Its my job, so..."

"No, I'm aware. I just...I wish I had your strength. Once, my husband and I had left over nachos for breakfast." She says with a blush and I can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, I'm super lazy when I want to be. But I can't imagine you doing all this everyday. Don't you want a break?" She asks just as Mr. Robinson walks into the kitchen, dressed in a dark grey suit.

"I....uh, I don't. Not really. I had the day off yesterday and I have the weekends to myself." I say but she doesn't look impressed.

"I don't know... I really want you to take a break. Have fun. How about a day at the spa? You have such beautiful hair...I bet you'll love it." She says and I can't deny that her suggestion is more than tempting.

A day at the spa.

Something I've never had the time to do. I turn to Mr. Robinson, just to find him studying me with thoughfulness.

Like he is trying to see what I'll say.

Uh-oh.

"Thanks, Ronnie but I'd rather not. Enjoy your breakfast." I say and try to leave when she stops me.

"Wait. Where are you going? The table's right here." She says and all I can remember is Mr. Robinson telling me never to set the table for myself or anyone.

"I...I don't eat here." I say and her jaw drops as she turns to Mr. Robinson.

"What the hell, Kyle?" She asks but his eyes are on me, observing me with so much remorse.

"This is ridiculous. Marcy, get over here. You're eating with me and after this, we'll clean up and have the day to ourselves. Just me and you." She says, already dropping my plate on the table.

"But, Ronnie--"

"Marcella, it's fine. Go on. My sister's right. I told you, you don't have to wait on me anymore. Take a break."

Mr. Robinson says, eyes on me.

"I'll pay."