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“You’re not the only person who’s ever lost someone. You’re not the only person who’s ever seen hard things. And no one owns the color red, Mr. Delaney.”
I didn’t look at her.
The quiet in the kitchen now was tenuous. It was far worse than the silence before Jade had accused me of being angry at her for no reason. I had every reason to be angry that she was using red, yellow, and orange beads. Those colors were not in my wardrobe for a reason, and I was sure many of the other firefighters at the station would back me up on this one.
As beautiful as they were – color wise and in the beads that allowed the sun to shine through them, they were gorgeous – I could not look at them the same way I had before I had become a fire fighter. Where they were once the color of a sunrise to me, they now symbolized all of the fires I had gone through – the scars on my arms and the one on my back surely spoke of the troubles I’d had with my gear in my early years – and the pain, the struggles that came with them. The memories of the firefighters who had given their lives to ensure the rest of us made it out of a particularly dangerous fire were always what came back to me when I saw those colors together.
The odd thing was that I could handle them on their own.
The timer beeped, pulling me out of my thoughts. I strained the noodles, and added some pasta sauce to the plate once the ravioli settled. I pulled a fork out of the silverware drawer. The last thing I wanted to do right now was eat in the kitchen, so I went into the dining room.
Perhaps it would have been better to walk into my room, but something about the way Jade sat melancholically staring at the pot made me wonder if she had only refused the ravioli because I was making it and she hadn’t wanted to risk making me mad at her while I was making her food.
I started eating quietly. The ravioli was filled with ricotta, mozzarella, and a couple of other cheeses. While there was a meat and cheese version, I preferred this one. Something about the cheese just sat better with me than it did when meat was added to it. Didn’t know why, didn’t entirely care. It was good food.
That was all that mattered.
About halfway through my food, Jade walked into the dining room.
Chapter sixteen
Sixteen: Jade
I wasn’t particularly shocked to hear about the things Jesse had lost. He’d mentioned many of those things before. I was shocked by his saying he was mean because he “refused to lose another person.” What did he mean by that? Did he mean he didn’t want to lose me?
“What do you want?” Jesse asked, his voice harsh and insincere.
“I didn’t mean to push you like that,” I started. “But, I’m just trying to understand. You’re the only firefighter who is not happy about any of the fundraising. The rest of the crews seem super excited that we’re there to help them raise the money needed to replace gear, get the fire house fixed up, all of that. Whatever you all decide to use the money for, I just want to help raise that money.”
He simply took his half-finished plate of ravioli and stood up.
“I don’t want to hear any more on this subject.”
With that, he walked away and into his bedroom, slamming the door for extra measure.
“I-I…”
I sighed. Whatever this man was trying to get across, I didn’t know. But I did know that my stomach was going to start growling soon enough. Maybe if I made something to share, it would build a small bridge.
In the kitchen, I pulled out a pan and then some strips of chicken. It was time to sear this up because otherwise, it was going to go bad. And I didn’t want to waste that kind of money. Not after such a big move.
As I cooked the chicken, I took care in cutting up some peppers and a few other toppings. Fajitas were a comfort food of mine, and after all that had happened today, I think I needed that. Besides, with Jesse being as stand-offish as he was today, I didn’t want to take the chance and make myself some ravioli from his bag. As good as it had smelled with the sauce that he had put on it, it wasn’t worth making him angrier at me.
“If only I could figure out why he’s always so angry at me,” I muttered as I finished cutting up the vegetables I would be searing as well.
I washed off the knife and the cutting board I had used. Then, I grabbed my phone. Usually, I’d play music while I cooked, but I felt more like I needed to talk to someone. Instead of a phone conversation, though, I texted Maria.
Jesse is super stand-offish today. Apparently the color of beads I use is offensive or something. Ugh what do I have to do to get my landlord to stop yelling at me?
With that, I then realized that it was raining hard outside. Jesse had probably gone to his room instead of leaving the house because he didn’t want to get poured on outside. I quietly hoped the power would remain on through the intense storm outside. We were out of hurricane season, but that didn’t mean that we couldn’t have large storms in Texas.
Jesse only came out momentarily to put his plate in the sink.
“Do you want a fajita or two for tomorrow?” I asked, attempting to make some light conversation that had no bearing on anything else going on around us.
He gave me no answer. Instead, he simply walked back to his room. This time, the door didn’t slam. I was thankful that he was no longer slamming the doors, but the fact that he had straight-up ignored me hurt more than the slamming door made my ears hurt. It felt so childish, storming off and slamming doors and giving people the silent treatment. Did he realize how that could impact our relationship as landlord and tenant? And if so, was he hoping that it would inspire me to move out?
I shook my head. That was the last thing I needed to be thinking of right now. What I wanted to think about was actually rather simple. I wanted to be thinking about the fajitas and about texting Maria. If this didn’t work out with Jesse, we needed to have another plan for who we would be working with come the day of the fundraiser.
