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the first time and the second, you noticed things like that. She
hadn’t commented on it. She knew that food turned to sawdust
and the appetite dried up when grief fuelled the body instead
of a desire to have the calories to make it through the day.
Giana was a grazer too. She picked at food most of the time.
She never had anyone come into the house and cook for her.
She had a cleaner, but she drew the line at that. This was the
first meal in a long time that she could remember cooking and
actually wanting to eat.
The roast was cooked perfectly, the meat soft and tender,
and the mashed potatoes were heaven. “I can’t have this
becoming predictable,” she said between forkfuls, like an
asshole. She watched Coralyn’s face and saw how her words
wounded her like a quick cut from a blade she hadn’t seen in
the dark because she was focused on the light in the distance.
“Why?” She closed her eyes in silent delight over another
mouthful of potatoes. She’d gone heavy with the gravy. Even
that was good, and normally, Giana was shit with making
gravy. Normally, she was shit with all of this, but she’d tried.
She’d really fucking tried tonight. “Because predictable isn’t
safe, it’s boring?”
“Because this isn’t a dependable pattern.” It wasn’t going to
last. It wasn’t permanent. This wasn’t who they really were,
and it was going to end.
“I guess we should talk about something else, then,”
Coralyn volunteered. Her eyes shone, like she knew Giana’s
heart wasn’t really in being mean. Like she could read her. Her
gaze burned into Giana when she ducked her head.
“I find eating in silence to be a real joy,” she protested to
her plate.
