Eve ran toward the bed closest to the window and jumped right on top of it onto her back. As she fell into the mattress, the down bedding swelled up like a gentle wave around her body.
She giggled quietly and then exhaled audibly. Hazel almost felt a moment of calm coming, but then Eve abruptly sprang up onto her knees and ran her hand slowly along one of the bedposts.
“Holy shit, these are cool!” she exclaimed.
Hazel walked over to the other bed to inspect the bedposts for herself. There were deep and intricate carvings of flowers and ivy running all the way up the posts. Hazel gently placed her finger into the center groove of a carved rose and traced her finger in concentric circles out toward the edge of the blooming flower.
“Why, thank you, Eve. I made them,” Silas said confidently but much more modestly than Hazel expected, given how magnificent they were. Hazel turned to look at Silas. His big shoulder was leaning against the doorway and he had one big clunky work boot crossed over the other.
“You made them?” Hazel asked, her throat constricting a bit at the idea of Silas, her father, preparing such a grand gesture for their arrival. She was touched, and happy and warmed. Relieved, even.
Hazel felt an urge in her body to get up and wrap her arms around Silas and squeeze him tight and never let go. But she found herself paralyzed. It had been a long time since she felt that free with her love and her body. It had been a long time since she felt love and attention like that.
Before Hazel could get herself to move, or eke out an underwhelming “Thanks,” Silas had moved from the doorway and was walking to the window.
Hazel followed him there and looked out the window. She could make out a view of the great and moody lake outside and a slightly dilapidated but sizable and prominent barnlike structure.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Ah, that’s where the magic happens,” Silas responded. “The workshop.”
“Will you finally let me inside?” Eve asked and opened her eyes wildly. Something about the way she asked things always made them feel illicit.
“Oh, it’s all just sawdust and old tools in there,” Silas responded. “Nothing interesting at all.”
“Whatever,” Eve replied, as if she had never been impassioned about it in the first place. She threw her body back onto her bed, sprawling her arms out and letting her back bounce flat against the bed. She bounced up and down slightly, her breasts bouncing for slightly longer than the rest of her body.
“You guys take it easy for a bit. I’ll make us some dinner and call you down. Sound good?”
“Sure does!” Eve yelled from her supine position on the bed.
Hazel lay back in her bed on top of the comforters and pillows.
Silas left the room and closed the door behind him.
“This is going to be great,” Eve murmured.
Hazel nodded.
22
Hazel didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep when she woke up to the alluring aroma of cooking. It didn’t resemble the smells of her home at all. The scents were rich and fatty. Spicy and full. Hazel looked over at Eve’s bed, which had the imprint of a body but no Eve.
Hazel followed the smell down the stairs and arrived at an already-set dinner table, with Eve sitting casually in one of the chairs watching Silas prepare the meal. At the precise moment Hazel stepped into the room, Silas was pulling a great big perfectly charred chicken out of the oven. Another waft of smell came over Hazel and her tummy let out a loud and gurgling grumble.
She heard Eve cackling in reaction and then Silas turned around. He was wearing an apron that was stained with all kinds of colors and textures.
“Perfect timing!” he said as he placed the steaming chicken down at the center of the table.
“Come sit down.”
Eve was still chuckling as Hazel sat down next to Eve.
“I guess you’re hungry,” Eve teased.
Hazel nudged her shoulder into Eve’s. “Oh, shut up,” she retorted, slightly surprised by her own boldness.
Typical sibling rivalry, Hazel thought warmly and took a seat at the table. She felt a smile spread across her lips.
Hazel scanned the spread. It was full of colorful roasted vegetables, a fresh salad of lettuce topped with creamy, crumbled cheese, and golden, toasty bread with a pat of butter that was just starting to melt.
Silas unraveled his apron, tossed it onto the counter next to the remaining mess of bowls and littered cutting boards, and joined the girls at the table.
“Oh, one more thing!” he yelled, bounced back up and made his way toward the refrigerator. He emerged with three cold beers, the necks of the bottles crossed between his fingers.
Hazel found it curious that he didn’t want to leave some of the bottles in the refrigerator while he drank his first. Silas tucked his big knees under the table and placed the group of beers next to his plate. Then, he picked one up, meticulously leaned the bottle cap on the edge of the tabletop and then slammed his big hand down on the bottle. She heard the air release from the bottle with a gentle swish and then the light clink of the bottle cap hitting the floor.
Hazel expected him to take a gulping sip, but instead he reached for a second, and then the third bottle, and repeated the same dramatic performance. Silas took up one open bottle in each hand and then proudly stretched them out in front of Hazel and Eve, respectively.
“Uh, what are you doing, Pops?” Eve asked, one eyebrow arching up.
There was a brief moment of confusion in Silas’s eyes, followed by a deep sense of understanding and almost terror. He was asked if he kept liquor accessible. But beer was different from liquor.
Hazel’s body was still tense and rigid at the scene. She had never had a drink before, let alone in front of an adult.
“Oh, uh, yeah. What am I doing?” Silas asked rhetorically, now averting his eyes.
Eve let out a sinister giggle.
“You know we’re only fifteen, right? As in like not even close to drinking age?”
“Um, yeah. Sorry. Uh, I must...” Silas stumbled awkwardly over his words.
But then Eve’s eyes lit up and her spine straightened.
“Can we have them anyway?” Eve asked, in that same illicit, excited tone.
The question itself relaxed Silas. His jaw loosened and his shoulders relaxed and then a slight smile moved slowly across his lips.
“Really? Have you ever had one before?”
Eve snatched the bottle from his hand and took it confidently into possession between her index finger and thumb. “Of course I’ve had one before. What do you think I am? Some kind of prude loser?”