Damaged Beyond Repair by Kashmira Kamat (KittyKash) (best short books to read TXT) 📗

"Where's the brain surgeon?" Alana asked her father. "Got to run an emergency?"

He gave Alana a look of warning. "She's your mother, Alana. I respect that woman, and I expect you to do the same. I sent her to your grandfather's house. He needs her at the moment."

"Right." Alana smiled. "And we don't need her."

He sighed and shook his head.

I started to feel uncomfortable and just out of place so I joined them in the kitchen and stood near the island counter where Alana's father chopped the veggies.

I reached for a kitchen knife, "sir, may I?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "sure." that's when I received a very genuine smile, another vibrant one passed to me from his daughter. She slid on the counter high chairs, studying us with an animated happiness, giving me an impression that she was watching one of those Fantasy Disney movies. Honestly, I wasn't looking to impress her father. It was just instinct when I saw the kitchen.

I diced the cabbage slowly with precision, the way any chef on tv would do and pushed the contents in the glass bowl, while Rick deep fried homemade shrimps. A jar of plain mayonnaise was kept on the counter ready to serve.

I pointed at the jar. "I think a tartar sauce dip will go well with the shrimps. I'd like to make some if you'd allow me."

"The kitchen is yours." Rick grinned at me, pulling out appetizing golden brown shrimps, "You enjoy cooking?"

"Yes, sir. I do most of the cooking at my condo." I responded, "My daughter enjoys my cooking."

"Oh yes, Alana told me about your daughter." he continued, "It's very nice of you do something like that."

"I...I don't understand, sir..." I was confused. Had she lied to him?

Rick appeared to be puzzled for a moment. "She's actually your niece, right?"

It was time to pull one of those bags of secrets. "Um, No." As soon as that word came out my mouth, Alana was suddenly fidgeting. "Minnie is my daughter. I'm her biological father."

Alana blew out a breath. She was avoiding eye contact with her father who was shooting bullets, yes, not even daggers. He was shooting bullets directly at her. I sure as hell knew it would be grenades by the end of the night.

Rick turned towards me; the shrimps in the plate beside him were breathing some fresh air. His eyes as cold as a murderer, he was reading more into the story then what I was letting him read on. That speculation happened to be right since his next question was, "You're married, aren't you?"

  I stopped dicing the lettuce for a minute to face him. It would appear rude if I ignored him and continued the work at hand.

"No. I'm not married."

"Then, is she a love child?"

Before I could process that question, Alana protested. "Dad!"

I'd expected that question sooner or later, maybe framed in a much appropriate way.

"Yes." I answered. 

"And where's her mother?" the obvious question.

"She left us a few years ago." I was trying to keep it strictly one sentence and one word.

"Can you tell me why?"

"Dad!" Alana climbed to her feet and closed the distance between us, "Don't you think you're invading personal territory here? That's Rowan's life."

He glared her down. "If you're going to date this man, I want to know everything that's there to him."

I reached for the jar of mayonnaise and scooped a few spoonful into a tiny bowl and squeezed lime juice into it. "Your father's right, Alana, he has a right to know everything about me."

****

    Alana

  I quickly changed the subject and went on to blabber on and bore him about college and other not so important subjects that my dad wasn't really keen on listening to. So far, Rowan had only piqued his interest and for all the wrong reasons. Dad had an old habit of analyzing people's behavior and clearly he was imagining Rowan in his court room.

     I ate my food quietly; so far it was turning out to be a fine dinner, better then how I imagined it would go. But, I wasn't going to get my hopes up. Rowan was already jittery and nervous, and my dad was doing nothing to make it seem less intolerable. Dad's skeptical stare was dead-locked on Rowan as he forked the grilled chicken. There was more to my father's dubious stares the just sheer curiosity.

"You like the chicken?" that was the most decent question of the evening that dad had asked.

Rowan nodded. "It's really good. I'd love to learn the secret recipe for the chicken marinade."

Dad began explaining to Rowan about how it was done, the right amount of spices and everything. At one point of time, I wondered if they'd forgotten I was also part of the dinner table.

I didn't need their attention as long as they maintained civility and did not slit their throats by the end of the night. One couldn't stop hoping.

"So what was Alana like as a student?" Dad asked, taking a bite of the food. He glanced at me and smiled, turned to face Rowan, "Tell me as her ex-professor. Now, I don't expect any biased answers."

"Hello!" I waved my hand at my dad, sitting opposite us. "I'm sitting right here. Are we like doing PTA all over again?"

Rowan chuckled; he caressed my fingers under the table. I squeezed his hand back. "I'll be honest with you, sir; Alana is a hard working girl. She had average grades during the start of the first year but, that quickly changed. She was good until a few months later, until everything just went spiral."

"I don't understand why would you risk a job for a student. Why give in to an infatuation?"

I couldn't believe I just heard that. He called us a fucking infatuation? Rowan and I were going back and forth for an infatuation?