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Arabella
It was hard for Arabella to go home, prepare a meal and uncork a bottle of
wine like she normally did. She knew it wasn’t a regular dinner, and even
though June had said she didn’t want to break up, Arabella didn’t feel right
about putting so much as a jar candle on the table. She didn’t go overboard
making anything fancy either. Just a salad, half a ham she stuck in the oven
to warm up, and mashed potatoes.
June said she’d be there at seven, and like all the other times she said
she’d be anywhere, she was right on time. Arabella wondered if June had
ever been late for anything in her life. It was just one of the many things
Arabella appreciated about her. One of the many.
It was awkward at the door. She didn’t know what to say, so she said
nothing. June gave her a tight smile and since dinner was ready, the mouth-
watering smell of the salty ham overflowing from the kitchen, she followed
Arabella in.
They sat down across from each other at the large round table. Arabella
had everything set already. The ham was out, sizzling in the square
casserole dish. She’d whipped the potatoes with a hand beater, an old trick
of her mom’s that guaranteed fluffy, creamy mash every single time. The
lettuce in the salad was borderline bad with brown, wilting edges, but
Arabella had picked out the worst of it and used the rest.
Honestly, she barely paid attention as she filled her plate. She was much
too fixated on June. She waited. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing or
pick up the conversation where they’d left off in the office. She’d hoped
June had thought past that already. She knew she had, but she didn’t want to
just blurt out something if June was on a completely different wavelength.
It was hard being silent and even harder to be patient. Arabella cut the
slice of ham on her plate and waited. She dipped a piece in mustard and
nibbled at it, hardly tasting anything except the sharp tang of the spicy
grainy seeds and the salt from the meat.
