Page 32 of Words Unspoken

Wine? Michael shrugged and poured some beer on the tomato, onion, and carrot mix. Should be fine. Improvising was a way of life. Who said he could not be spontaneous? He had this. He poked the mixture with a wooden spoon feeling the master of his own kitchen. Watch out FenLei.

They pulled out a plate and set a slice of lemon on it. He had lemon, but he didn’t see the point of cutting out a slice for one steak. Michael pulled out his plate and set it on the counter. A sprig of dill? He didn’t need the garnish. Michael took another swig of beer. They were talking about the chef is new cookbook.

Everything seemed to be well in hand, so Michael went back to the couch and found the remote. He flipped through a couple of channels. Nothing was on. He didn’t care for crime shows or daytime therapy. Some woman was yelling in Italian at another man. There was a show on fishing.

He had not fished in ages. Michael used to fish off the dock with his brothers, releasing all the fish back. He had always sailed. He wondered when he would be allowed to sail again. He switched through the channels until he returned to the cooking show. They were taking the potatoes out of the water.

Michael got up to go rescue his potatoes. He didn’t have one of those fancy scoops like they used, all mesh but there was a scoop with some holes in it. He pulled the two potatoes out of the water and put them on his plate. The steak was steaming. The sauce was smoking black, the tomato black and red, seared onto the bottom of the pan. The onion and carrot stood pathetically surrounded by black.

Michael grabbed the pan and put it in the sink, running water over it. Steam flew up and the smoke alarm trilled. Ears aching, he grabbed a chair, popped off the cover for the smoke alarm and pulled the battery. The deafening trill abruptly stopped. He got off the chair and grabbed the beer, having a drink. Well, okay, no sauce. It was not a big deal.

They were plating the steak and oohing over the plate on television. It looked good. Michael looked at his own steak. It didn’t look quite right. Maybe it would taste better than it looked. Shrugging, he slid it out of the pan and onto the plate beside the two potatoes. Michael made sure the stove was off and shut off the gush of water in the sink now that the burned food had cooled. Grabbing a new beer and his plate he headed for the couch to taste his feast.

He cut into the steak and examined it. It looked burned on the bottom and the top was nearly raw. Was he supposed to have flipped it? They had not said anything on television about doing that. He had not seen them do it but then again, he had not watched the whole time since he had been trying to find ingredients. Michael took a tentative bite then spit it back out on the plate. He took a swig of beer to get rid of the taste. There was no describing the mess of spices and improperly cooked meat. Taking a deep breath, Michael took a fork to a potato. It was rock hard. The fork was stuck in it.

Michael stared at the television where the host was taking a bite and proclaiming the meal superb. They were frauds. He got up and put his plate in the sink, the potatoes rolling into the water. The kitchen was a disaster.

Disappointed, he made himself a sandwich.

∞

Ann met Geanie at their usual bar. She was surprised that Elle was not there yet. After Ann had suggested the excursion, it had taken some convincing from Michael that she should even go but she missed hanging out with the girls and surely Michael would be fine for one evening without her.

“You should think about mingling more. There are some good singles mixers coming up,” Geanie took a drink from her beer. “You won’t find anyone if you don’t go looking.”

“I don’t have time,” Ann stirred her daiquiri. “I almost didn’t come tonight.”

“There is a fundraising golf event on Friday,” Geanie persisted as she crunched on a complimentary pretzel. “I heard a lot of singles are going to be there. Trenton Bailey, the mayor’s son. Earle Milton, he has oil money but isn’t great to look at. Oh, I know. George Stapleton. He owns a string of dental offices. You know how to play golf and I have got an extra ticket since my dear Mr. Duvell broke his ankle. Turns out you cannot golf in an air cast.”

“I can’t,” Ann shook her head. “I have to take Michael to the dentist. He has his annual checkup.”

Geanie looked at her with pity. “You are doing it all again.”

“What do you mean?” Ann asked, sipping her daiquiri through the straw.

“You are his caretaker. You are taking care of his appointments, his wants, his needs. You are putting him first and fretting over him,” Geanie asked the all-important question. “Who is fretting over you, honey?”

“Someone needs to look after him,” Ann said defensively.

“He has two brothers,” Geanie sighed. “Look, you quite being his secretary so that you could follow your dream to have a family. Now you have just replaced the title of secretary to nursemaid. You are doing the exact same thing you were before and are no closer to being a wife and having children. If he hasn’t figured out that you love him by now and acted on it, he isn’t in love with you. He is just in love with the comfort of having you around to do everything for him. Have some pride and stop being his personal maid.”

“I am not his nursemaid,” Ann said without much conviction.

“Sure honey,” Geanie reflected on it. “No, I think it is worse. I think you are like his favorite blanket that he keeps taking around for comfort but nothing else. Or maybe you are just his mom.”

“His mom?” an incredulous Ann said.

“You do everything a mom does. You have been momming him for years,” Geanie sipped her drink. “I know because I got to watch the whole show.”

Ann put down her drink feeling hollow inside. Geanie was right. She had made the same horrible mistake. She was still tied to Michael, unable to take any steps to her future because of her dedication to him. She could not believe she had not seen it. She had not wanted to see it, she reflected ruefully. She loved taking care of Michael. But Geanie was right. Michael was not taking care of her in return.

“Look, there is Elle finally,” Geanie waved to Elle.

Elle slipped into the booth. “Evan was being difficult. Sorry I am so late.”

“No worries,” Geanie said.

Elle looked at Ann in concern. “Is everything alright, Ann?”