Crystal Jake by Carre Georgia le

Author:Carre, Georgia le [Carre, Georgia le]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Anthologies
ISBN: 9781910575116
Amazon: B00X2JUCRC
Goodreads: 25474011
Publisher: Georgia Le Carre
Published: 2015-05-02T07:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Jake

From the open door I watch her wash vegetables in the sink. She turns off the tap and reaches for a knife. Her hair falls forward and she flicks it away carelessly. The gesture arrests me. Compels me to stay and watch. It is as if I am watching a movie. She is someone else. I am someone else. The picture of domestic bliss is so foreign. So alluring. It warms my heart.

What is it about her that makes her so magnetic? Even the simplest thing she does becomes a movement of grace and beauty. I have to stop myself from going into the kitchen, lifting her onto the counter and fucking her until she claws at me.

She leaves the tap running and turns to check on a pan of boiling water. As she puts the lid back on it she looks in my direction, sees me, and for an instant loses her concentration. The lid slips from her hand and falls to the ground, catching a ladle resting by the side of the pan on its way. The ladle pings up and falls into the pan of boiling water and splashes boiling water onto her hand.

I hear the ladle clatter to the floor as I rush to her and try to pull her toward the cold water tap, but she shakes her head vehemently.

‘Flour,’ she gasps. ‘Find me some flour.’

I stare at her, confounded; convinced I have heard her wrong. ‘What?’

‘Where’s the flour?’ she barks urgently.

Flour! As if I would know where that is. I start opening cupboards and clumsily rifle through them. Dropping packets on the counter and floor. Cursing. I find an unopened packet in the third cupboard I open. I turn around quickly, ‘Open it,’ she instructs, white with pain.

I open it and pass it to her. She takes a handful of flour and holding it against her burn, closes her eyes. It must have given her some relief because she looks up at me and smiles tremulously.

‘I know it looks weird but it’s an old Chinese trick my grandmother taught me. She actually keeps a packet of corn flour in the fridge so it is cold and ready for use whenever she burns herself.’

I stare at her in shock. This is the first time she has offered a tiny little snippet of herself, without being prompted, and something real!

‘It’s brilliant,’ she adds. ‘It actually helps heal the burn faster and stops the skin from marking.’

I keep my voice casual. ‘Your grandmother is Chinese?’

She smiles. A tender expression comes into her eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘And you love her very much, don’t you?’

‘Yes, yes I do.’

‘And she is still alive?’

Suddenly the expression in her eyes changes, becomes guarded and fearful. And all I want to do is hold her close to me and tell her it doesn’t matter. It does not matter a damn. She has ruined nothing by telling me that.

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