Sitting quietly he stared across the table. She sipped at
her coffee, the sucking sound like nails on a chalkboard. A thousand times he
asked her if it was necessary to make all that racket and nine hundred
ninety-nine times she apologized. The last time he asked she ignored him. That
time he thought she slurped even louder.
“What was
her problem? I never do things that aggravate her, why does she have to do
things that drive me crazy?” He chomped on the crusty bread, smacking his lips
as crumbs dribbled from his mouth. Continuing to watch her, contempt dripping
from his gaze, she focused on the plate in front of her. The longer he looked the
more frustrated he became. His imagination wandered to those picture perfect
model type actresses with the pudgy men and how they just adored each other.
Why couldn’t she just adore him?
She looked
up. “Are you okay, can I get you anything?” Her genuine smile made him feel
self-conscious about his black thoughts. Her gaze weighed heavily on him as he
shifted uncomfortably in the seat.
“No I’m
fine.” He paused trying to hold her gaze. “How is your steak?”
“Good, it’s
always good.” She poked a piece of the medium rare carne into her mouth. He
watched her chewing. He had to look away. When he watched her eat it was like
the sounds were magnified a million times. He could feel the hackles on his
neck standing at attention. Turning back to his partially eaten meal he chomped
on the bread, a loud crunch permeating the room.
Finished,
she rose clearing her place. He watched her. When her back was turned he made a
face at her. The childish maneuver caused him to stifle a chuckle. If only she knew how much I despised her she
wouldn’t be so nice to me. He looked down as she reached the sink and
looked back towards the table.
“More
coffee dear?” He looked up as if she had broken his attention. The well
practiced action was not lost on her.
“Sure.” He
held up his mug just like you would do to signal the waitress. She retrieved
his cup and brought it to the counter.
As she
poured she spoke to him. “Milk and sugar, sugar?” she spoke the words
reverently.
She knows I take milk and sugar but she
insists on asking every time. That was another thing that worked on his
nerves. He had to do something and do it soon before the remaining marbles
trickled out of his bag. “Two sugars babe, light on the milk.” She worked away
preparing it just the way he liked it. Carrying the mug slowly back to the
table she watched the brown liquid swirling around willing it not to breach the
rim.
Placing it
squarely in front of him she cleared his place. Stepping back she watched. She
always watched him sip coffee. He felt obliged to compliment her work even
though he thought he could do just as well if not better. After the first sip
he managed a smile. The coffee did taste
better, maybe she is trying another blend. That doesn’t make sense since the
first cup didn’t taste like this.
Bringing
the cup to his lips for a second sip he managed two swallows before the mug
slipped from his fingers. It hit the table, tipped and spilled its contents.
His face landed beside it, eyes staring blankly at the kitchen cabinets. She
watched, smiled and retrieved a dish cloth to clean up the mess before it
soiled her pristine kitchen floor.
