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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.