“You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen.”
Allison moves quietly, barely a whisper of sound with each step. She tip toes around a spot on the floor that she knows creaks. The hall is dark except for the spill of light at the end, filtering in from the kitchen, where she’s pretty sure the noise that woke her originated from.
Her fingers flex on her bow, both eager for a fight and worried she’ll find one. Her heart is quick, hammering in her chest, anxiety biting at raw nerves. She purses her lips, breathes through her nose, and tries to calm herself. Making her way down the hall, she slides past the open door to her dad’s bedroom. He’s not home. She’d put money on him being downstairs, in their storage room, going through the weapons cache. As much as he tries to separate himself from it, from ‘the life,’ he always ends up back there; they both do.
She has an arrow notched and a stubborn look on her face that hides any lingering fear. Whoever’s waiting for her, she won’t give them an inch. She steps into the kitchen only to release a heavy breath, relief flooding through her system so quick it makes her knees tremble.
Malia whirls at the sound, her eyes wide. “You’re awake,” she says, her eyes darting away a second, a rare show of nervousness. “I wasn’t... I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was. But I heard a noise.” Her brow furrows and her head tips as she looks past her to the sink. Shaking her head, she says, “You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen.” This is the third one. There was a squirrel before, and a bird. She’d originally chalked them up to some kind of weird message; they had plenty of enemies. But this... This hadn’t occurred to her. It probably should have.
Malia picks the hare up by the ears. “It’s a gift. A thank you. I... I was going to clean it this time. I didn’t before, I didn’t have time, but... I didn’t mean to make a mess. I mean, I didn’t really think about it. When I’d make a kill in the woods, I ate everything. Anything I couldn’t eat I just buried, but... well...” She waved a hand around the pristine kitchen.
Allison’s lips twitch. She puts the bow away, drops it to the counter with the useless arrow, and walks toward her. “A gift, huh?”
“Yeah, well... You’ve been helpful, with all the math stuff and the... learning how to be ‘normal’... stuff. Lydia said something, about saying thank you, so...”
“So you killed a hare, broke into my apartment, and were going to... skin it and put it in my fridge...?” She raises a hand to cover her mouth; she doesn’t want her amusement to offend Malia.
Malia doesn’t take offense though, she rarely does. She’s still learning social cues in a lot of ways. She does shift her feet though, and raises her chin a little, defensive in a way that Allison can relate to. “It’s good. Not as good as deer, but good.”
Allison hums. “I guess I could make a stew... Add some carrots or something.”
Malia’s nose wrinkles, as if carrots are going to ruin the flavor or something.
“No? How do you usually eat it?”
Malia blinks. “Raw.”
Allison chokes out a laugh. “Okay, well, I can’t exactly eat it like that.”
“No, right, human... I forget sometimes.” Her eyes dart around then, and she balls her fingers up into a fist, looking nervous and awkward now. Maybe she doesn’t take offense, but she can feel embarrassed.
Reaching for her hand, Allison covers it, rubs her thumb over Malia’s knuckles until her fingers loosen up and unfurl. Malia looks down, watches her progress, something warm, hopeful, brimming in her eyes. She looks from her hand up to Allison, searching her face curiously.
“How about... we make it together?” Allison suggests. “We’ll have to cook it, but... I think I can find a way to make it work for you.”
“No carrots?”
Laughing under her breath, Allison grins. “No carrots.”
“Okay.” Malia nods, and then looks to the sink. “I’ll clean it up first. Then... Then we can make it. Together.”
Allison nods. “Okay.” She’s still holding Malia’s hand though, and Malia’s not letting go. So she lets her thumb run over her knuckles one more time and then releases her. “How do you feel about other vegetables?” she asks, making her way toward the fridge.
Malia hums thoughtfully.
It’s late, not at all the right time to be Googling hare recipes and making some elaborate meal. But Malia is reaching out, she’s searching for... something. Companionship, maybe. Maybe something more. All Allison knows is she’s reaching back. Wherever that goes, so be it. She’s ready.
