Breakfast Buddies [3]

(Kyle)

At six-fifteen, the Maury Cafe is almost entirely empty. Malory and I sit at a table in the pastel green dining room, waiting for our orders to be taken. The golden sun starts to fill the sky, and the more it rises, the more the ground turns liquid gold.

Malory taps on the table with her fingers, looking around. She seems nervous –uncomfortable. It makes me uneasy.

Okay, fine.

So I lied.

I actually love chocolate.

If I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, I’d choose chocolate.

And I know pancakes don’t take that long to make, and I know she made the effort...

But I couldn’t just... take it. Not like that.

Malory has been... kind of nice to me. I think about how happy she looked this morning. How she put even a little thought and effort into making something for me –which isn’t going to waste, by the way.

I guess maybe bringing her here was equally my way of showing some kind of effort. I don’t know how well that’s going to work out.

I just wish she wasn’t looking so anxious.

Natalie, the waitress, approaches us.

“Morning, Natalie,” I greet her.

She smiles back. “Morning, Kyle,” she looks around before she whispers, “What’s so good about it, though, right? How come I haven’t seen you around as much recently?”

“Been sick. I look a little pale, don’t I?” The lie rolls off my tongue easily.

She considers it and nods, laughing. She turns to Malory and so do I.

“And good morning to you,” she says, offering Malory a warm smile.

“Good morning,” she replies, looking up and returning a smile.

She subtly looks away and her cheeks slightly flush.

“So, what can I get you both?”

“The usual for me,” I say, before turning to Malory. She turns to me. “You like fruits, right?” I ask.

“Oh... yea,” she says, a little more brightly now, and with a genuine smile, “fruits are... my life.” She finally seems to be more at ease. I smile.

“The same for her, then,” I tell Natalie.

She walks away without writing anything on her little notepad. I turn to Malory. She looks down and puckers her lips with a casual nod as she resumes tapping on the table.

An awkward silence falls between us.

I realise that there are only two other customers beside us in the cafe, and then there is the cook and Natalie.

Malory must think this to be rather intimate.

No.

No, no, no, I’m not trying to suggest anything, Lloyd.

Jeez, how does one make Malory Lloyd feel comfortable?

I never thought I’d have this problem.

Then I remember what she said about me not being able to cook.

“I know how to cook.”

Her head pops towards me. “What?”

“I know how to cook. I just choose not to –most days. Getting out of the house is always a nicer experience.”

Staying out of the house willingly is always a better option.

She bites her bottom lip, and my bottom lip twitches because I think that I can still feel the disgusting mushiness and indescribable horror of it, and watching her teeth connect with her lip makes a chill run up my spine and I almost shudder.

“...I suppose I understand why, too,” she says, slowly.

I nod my head and drop it to look at my shoes under the table.

Shit.

Why am I looking at her like that?

Am I going crazy?

Her madness is contaminating me.

Stop yourself, Kyle...

She’s infecting you!

She’s infecting you!

My face would flush from embarrassment if I wasn’t looking so sick and pale –and if the bruise wasn’t covering my cheeks the way that it is. “It... It usually doesn’t get this bad...” I tell her.

After a moment of silence, she realises what I’m referring to. “Oh? Then why-”

“-Please don’t ask about it. I... really... can’t tell you.”

I can’t tell you.

I don’t talk about it. I’ve never talked about it.

I don’t know why I feel like I can trust her right now... but I do... but I’m still not going to tell her everything.

It really doesn’t get this bad so often that I get bruises on my face that are the size of Jupiter, but I know that anything less than this is still unacceptable.

I can’t tell you, Malory Lloyd.

It has nothing to do with us.

It has nothing to do with you.

It’s my problem to deal with... and I just don’t want to drag you –or anyone else for that matter- into it.

She doesn’t even fight back. She drops the topic altogether. She looks away from me again and her foot starts to shake under the table.

“So...” she says, searching for something to talk about, “Olivia saved notes for you. You’ll get those when we get to school.”

I’m taken aback. I probably don’t even need the notes. I’m way head of my classes. I’m glad to know someone even thought to do that simple thing for me.

“Oh,” I say, awkwardly. “...Okay.”

I forget, sometimes, that there are people who look out for me when I least expect it. I’m always doing things myself –much like Lloyd. I guess pushing people away is just my way of controlling disappointment; of dulling it. It’s my way of controlling how quickly or how slowly the small, good, happy parts of my life go way.

Natalie returns with a tray holding two bowls of assorted fruits, and two tall smoothies.

“Bon appetite!” she beams.

“Thanks, Natalie,” Malory and I say. We turn to each other and laugh at our synced voices.

Natalie curtsies slightly saying, “You’re welcome,” with a smile, and she walks away.

Malory and I share a smug expression. We begin eating.