***Whew, got to update sooner than I thought I would! I felt like blowing off studying for finals today, so I spent pretty much all afternoon completely changing where this story originally went. Hope you like it (I think you will, but fingers crossed). Thank you for reading and reviewing, your comments always make me happy. And, as usual, the only stuff I can take any credit for is the stuff you don't recognize from the show***
No one would ever make the mistake of calling Kjiersten Hansen a good cook. For as supportive as Norman was, even he stopped eating her food after his second round of food poisoning. Sig had once insisted that everyone was overreacting and let her cook for him. She'd done a decent job except for the part where she forgot the butter. Paula made him clean the mess from that one, which really just ended with him buying her new pots and agreeing that Kjiersten should probably just stay out of the kitchen.
That being said, she still loved to try. She could actually bake pretty well, and it was the best way she knew to burn off energy. So, when she entered the house and saw no sign that Norman was awake, she knew she had to get into the kitchen. They needed to talk, but until then, she changed into Seahawks sweatpants and a long-sleeved Dirty Jobs t-shirt, she headed into the kitchen. French toast was a lot like baking, at least in her mind, and she hummed softly to herself as she cracked a few eggs into a mixing bowl. Whisking was a damn good way to get out frustrations, anyway.
She'd picked up her first cigarette in months last night, waking up in a fit around 3 AM unable to fall back asleep. Josh slept through it, thankfully, but he'd woken up after she'd stamped it out and destroyed the evidence and wondered why she was awake. She'd mumbled something about being hungover and ordered him to shut up, not wanting to discuss the thoughts about her family that kept her up most of the night. Now, the pack lay on the counter, ready for the next bout of emotion that was too much for her. It was a crutch, she knew, and one that would kill her in the end, but there was some comfort to the pack of Marlboros within reach.
Her cell phone rested on the counter below the chalkboard, silently reminding her that she had a lot to do that day. When Norman got up, they were having a serious talk, and then she would need to call Ani before the poor girl exploded. Right now, she had to focus on herself or else she would explode. She needed to hear firsthand what exactly Norm had told Josh all those years ago. She would hear him out, find out things weren't as bad as she thought, and it would all be alright.
That's what she told herself, at least, as she dropped some pieces of toast onto the griddle. The sizzling sound made her take a few deep breaths. This couldn't be so terrible, right? Norman would come down in a few minutes and explain himself and they'd have a good laugh. She could go right back to smiling about the way that Josh's smile brightened her whole day, hos she jumped when he snuck up on her just because he was nearby, not because he'd startled her.
"Everything will be alright when Dad wakes up," she told herself, flipping the toast. "You'll see." Her gaze shifted to the chalkboard, a staple in their kitchen for as long as she could remember.
Norman had mounted the chalkboard in his kitchen so they could keep track of each other when last-minute things came up, but it had evolved into so much more. A corner was dedicated to how long relationships would last, where "Josh/Gina-opies" was written in Norman's neat lettering. They would have to erase that estimate, which was unsurprisingly accurate; the pair had become masters at guessing how long relationships would last. The middle of the board was actually used for if one of them went somewhere and had to leave a message for the other. Important phone messages went along the top. Stupid quotes said by someone in the family went along the bottom, an honor currently taken by Edgar's "Well it would have made sense if I'd said it in a way that made sense!" from before they'd left. A few phone numbers were permanently written along the side, including the sat phones for the Northwestern, Cornelia Marie, and Time Bandit in case of emergencies, Kjiersten's doctor, and the chiropractor she had been urging her dad to visit for nearly a year now.
She laughed at the chiropractor's phone number and grabbed two plates from the corner cabinets. She piled french toast on both of them and sliced some butter to rest on each slice. Then, she grabbed some powder sugar and lightly dusted both servings before putting the plates on the table. She dumped everything in the sink for him to clean up later, maintaining that the one that cooked should not have to also do the dishes, and was just getting ready to pour each of them tall glasses of orange juice when she heard movement on the stairs.
"Thank you," she muttered heavenward. Her father lumbered downstairs, like always, and she smiled to herself at the familiar sound. She froze, however, when she heard a sound that wasn't familiar to their morning routine. Laughter.
When Norman turned the corner into the kitchen and froze, Kjiersten knew in her stomach that something was wrong. She was prepared to ignore it, though, for the sake of her sanity. She could only deal with one family crisis at a time.
"Dad, I really need to talk to you about something."
"I…um…" he licked his lips and watched as she carefully avoided looking at anything but the juice she was pouring. "I thought you were spending the night at Josh's."
"Well, yeah, that's kinda…" she laughed nervously and let out a shaky breath. "That's what I need to talk to you about." She grabbed the glasses and started to put the on the table.
But when Dana appeared at his elbow, she froze. Her mouth hung open mid-word, her hands shook and very nearly spilled orange juice all over the table until she regained enough presence of mind to set the glass down, and her eyes widened at the intruder.
"I didn't…I didn't know…um…" she turned to Norman, who was having just as much trouble looking at his daughter as she was looking at either of them. Dana wanted to say something, but she knew instinctively that anything she said would be wrong. So, instead, she let the room fill with the heavy silence of two people that just had no idea what to say to each other.
Kjiersten studied her father carefully as he focused on the side wall. He looked embarrassed now, but when he'd first come in, he'd been smiling. She'd even heard him laugh. He was standing tall, even with his shoulders now slumped. He was…happy.
And that just made it worse.
"I should go," Kjiersten announced finally, snapping everyone into action.
"Sweetie, no," Norman reached for her, but she dodged his hand. "We can talk about this."
"I really don't want to." She grabbed her phone and keys and scooped her Northwestern jacket off of the floor.
"Kjiersten," Dana started, but she didn't know what to say next when the young woman stopped at the door leading to their deck. Kjiersten let the silence linger for a moment as she looked at them sideways over her shoulder.
"I, uh…made breakfast. Hope it's edible."
She shoved her way outside and ignored her dad as he called her name from the doorway. Maybe she'd hardened a bit overnight, or maybe she was too numb to give a shit anymore. Either way, nothing even tempted her to look back as she pulled her Jeep out and drove away. At first, she had no idea where she was going, but when she looked up, the car was stopped in Ani's driveway. Driving on autopilot terrified Kjiersten, who would barely talk to passengers because she wanted her attention totally focused on the road, but she couldn't complain today.
Instead, she let herself in and sat on the couch until Ani and Vince both came downstairs a few hours later.
"Um…explain?" Vince pointed, but Ani shoved him towards the kitchen.
"Make food," she ordered, sitting down next to Kjiersten. When he was gone, she pulled her friend into a hug. "Josh called. Sweetie, is this about last night? Are you ok?"
"No," she shook her head. "To both. It's not about last night, and I'm not ok."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Are you pregnant?"
"Bitch," Kjiersten smiled briefly.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Here," Kjiersten fished her cell phone out of her pocket and handed it to Ani, who frowned between the phone and her friend. "Keep that. Delete any texts or voicemails from my dad and my uncles."
"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Ani asked, turning the phone on so Kjiersten couldn't see the screen. Kjiersten nodded.
"Yeah. Later. Can I just crash for now?"
"Of course. There's a futon in the computer room. It's not much, but it'll work for now. Or however long you plan to stay. I'm guessing this is gonna be a while?"
Kjiersten shrugged. "I don't know. I really can't think about it yet."
"Okay, sweetie," Ani kissed her forehead gently, "you take your time. I'm gonna go sort through your messages and make sure Vince is actually making food. Want me to get you for breakfast?" Kjiersten nodded. "Alright. I'll get you in a few minutes."