Kim Karr: Dazed

A noise from the stove catches my attention. Suddenly, I smell garlic and hints of basil. I turn to look and see two giant pots bubbling over—one with spaghetti sauce and another thumping from the sound of boiling water. I hop up and rush to stir their contents. Natalie, the housekeeper, must have cooked and I’m so excited because her pasta sauce is the best I’ve ever tasted. I grab the pot holder and stir the sauce with the wooden spoon that was resting beside it. I try my best to avoid getting the black oil all over everything.

Then I walk back over to the sink and set the pot holder next to it. I pump soap in my hands and try not to laugh at the sight of the grease. Really, how did I not see the giant puddle in the driveway? I rub and rub, but it won’t come off, so I wipe my hands with the pot holder already covered in it, and then survey myself for further damage. Really, nothing to speak of—no scrapes or blood. I’m fine. I remove my jacket gingerly and kick my shoes to the side and sigh.

“Here we go,” Dahlia says coming back into the kitchen. She sets down a pile of fluffy white towels and a few bars of soap near the sink. “River!” she calls again. “I need some help.”

“Hey, I’m right here. What’s going on?” He appears in the staircase that leads down to the office, guestroom, and laundry room. Its opening freaks me out every time I come over. It’s a square cutout that sits between the kitchen and the family room. You just step down, no doorway, nothing to brace yourself against, and the railing doesn’t present itself for a few steps. I call it the infinity staircase and avoid it at all costs.

Once he sees me, he freezes. “Aerie, what happened to you? Are you okay?” he asks, clearly concerned.

“I fell, but I’m fine. Just a little dirty.”

Dahlia’s hands go to her hips and she clears her throat. “She slipped in oil,” she tells him, stressing the last word.

I look up at her. She has a look of stern reprimand on her face.

“She’s okay?” he asks again, this time to Dahlia.

“Yes.”

He looks over to me, “I’m so sorry, Aerie. Let me get you something to get that off. I’ll be right back.” He quickly moves through the kitchen toward the door leading to the garage.

Dahlia shakes her head at him.

He turns back and mouths, “Sorry.”

She turns toward me and pulls my headband off my head to smooth the stray pieces back that have come loose from my French braid. “I am so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I’m fine. Really I am. And what am I missing here?”

She sighs and lets out a small giggle. “River and Jagger decided to change the oil in Jagger’s car this afternoon. I suggested they take it to a service center, but they insisted they were ‘real’ men and could do it themselves. River has never changed the oil in his car . . .”

There’s the sound of someone clearing his throat from the doorway as River strides in and hands me a container with the lid already off. It smells like oranges. “Here, this is a degreaser. It should take the oil right off,” he says.

I take the jar and rub some on my knees as Dahlia turns on the water and hands me a towel. I assume Jagger is River’s cousin. So Trent is not the one joining us for dinner.

“Where did you get that?” Dahlia asks River.

He moves closer to her. “Baby, I can’t tell you all my secrets.”

She swats his behind. “Don’t think I don’t know you two ended up at Jiffy Lube this afternoon.”

I bop my head up and continue to rub the grease from my knees. This story is getting interesting.

River grins and cranes his neck toward her lips. “Now, how did you find out that little piece of information?”

“The receipt you left on the kitchen counter next to your wallet. Busted!” she smirks.

I have to laugh. River has got to be one of the funniest, most down-to-earth guys I know and he and Dahlia couldn’t be more perfect for each other. They both look at me.

“What?” I ask. “I can’t find the story funny?”

“Well, at least let me explain before you laugh at me?” he jokes.

“Oh, I think we got this one,” Dahlia responds.

I finish with my knees and Dahlia takes the dirty towel and wets another, handing it to me. I stand up at the sink and spread the cool white liquid between my palms and scrub them. “I needed a good laugh after the day I’ve had.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” River chuckles.

Dahlia pulls River to her and clasps his cheeks. “I think it’s sexy that you tried to be an auto mechanic.”

He buries his head in the crook of her neck and with the water running I can’t hear what he whispers, but I can only imagine.

Now I clear my throat. “Excuse me. I’m right here. Remember, I’m the one who fell.”

River leans over and kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry you slipped. We should have done a better job cleaning up. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. My ego is bruised more than anything else.”

He pats my shoulder. “Now, finish getting cleaned up and I’ll go grab the oil spill culprit. He’s dying to meet you.”

Turning off the water, I twist to set the towel down on the counter. “Really? Why?”

“I’ll let him explain.”

“How old is your cousin? Sixteen?” I ask.

The sizzling sound of liquid meeting flame erupts behind us and all of our heads snap toward it. The spaghetti sauce is boiling over again.

“Shit!” Dahlia calls and runs over to the stove. The mitt is not there so she lifts the lid with her bare hand and immediately drops it. “Shit!” she calls again waving her hand in the air.

River grabs one of the towels on the counter near the sink and is by her side in a moment. He takes the lid off and lowers the gas, then turns to Dahlia. “Let me see that,” he says, taking her hand in his.

I tune out the rest of their conversation because in the midst of all the chaos, a shadow rises from the staircase. A long, lean body appears out of nowhere and stormy gray eyes sweep over me. My mouth falls open at the same time that my pulse begins to race. There stands the cupcake thief, right in the middle of River and Dahlia’s family room.

Now here’s the question—when Alice falls down the rabbit hole, does she tumble or plummet? I couldn’t remember. Or should I really be asking if, when she falls through the looking glass, does she stumble or crash?

The corners of the cupcake thief’s mouth lift up when he looks in my direction and a low chuckle leaves his throat. “Alice?”

I can feel heat rising up my body and would venture to guess that my skin color almost matches my dress. At the same moment that the flush is creeping up my throat, his pure steady gaze somehow sets me at ease.

In the next moment, his eyes dart to the stove. “Fuck, I thought I turned the gas down.”

His light accent sends a shiver down my spine as I follow his movements. He dashes over to the stove and settles the flame like he knows his way around the kitchen. Then I finally break out of my trance as I see River holding an ice cube to Dahlia’s hand.

I blast the cold water. “Come over here, Dahlia.”

“I’m fine,” she says.

River’s cousin takes her hand and looks it over. “What the hell did you do? It’s blistering. You need to soak it in cool water.”

He knocks River’s shoulder. “Don’t you know anything about burns?”

River looks at him quizzically.

“You never put ice on a burn. Cool water only.”

“Dahlia, come over here now,” I order as I nonchalantly adjust the water temperature from cold to cool.

River shakes his head at his cousin. “Where the hell did you learn the things you know—chef, maintenance man, now paramedic?”