Happy Medium

by Sarah Adler

“Why would I care what your father has to say about anything when I already know you, Acorn?” The hand that isn’t holding the lighter comes up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I already know that you pick the peas out of your vegetable soup, and you don’t know how to whistle.” Their eyes lock in the reflection of the window above the sink, the darkness outside making it almost mirrorlike. “That you take ridiculously long showers no matter how many times I remind you we’re on well water. I know that you’re still a little nervous around the dogs, but that you’ve really taken to the cats. That you sing goofy made-up songs to the goats when you think no one can hear you, and that you’ve started bringing them almonds after lunch every day.” His voice goes quieter as he bends toward her ear. “That you always bite your bottom lip right when you’re about to come.” Gretchen swallows, heat flooding her as she takes in the words. “Do I?” “You do,” he whispers. “And I know that you care intensely about people, that you hate to see anyone suffer when there’s something you can do about it.” “We don’t have to pretend I’m a good person, Charlie,” she says, looking away, his eyes in their reflection seeing too much. “How could you think— Jesus, you’re not a good person, Acorn, you’re the best person. You could have easily walked away from all of this and left me to die, but you didn’t. You refused to give up on this place. You refused to give up on me.” Out of her peripheral vision, Gretc...