by Bryan Kwasnik
First published in Variables Zine circa 2013

He heard the doorknob creek as she stuttered through the door. She dropped several plastic bags onto the kitchen table and looked at him. Every part of her appearance was meticulously arranged to hide something from everyone.  She looked over to him with a strained smile she wore with the type of perfection reserved only for the worst of days.

“I brought food.”

He stared blankly at her.

“You could show some kind of appreciation you know. I didn’t have to drive all the way to get you something.”

Again, he didn’t even try to respond.

“I don’t know why I even bother sometimes. You obviously don’t appreciate all the things I do for you,” she paused and waited for the type of response that was meant to follow. There wasn’t one. “If this is going to work we need to communicate more.”

He sighed and glanced at the partially opened door. She walked over and locked it.

“All you ever think about is leaving, don’t you?”

He turned his head to look out the window.

“It’s getting cold,” she warned him.

He dragged his chair to the table and sat across from her. He studied her as her fork carried a soggy piece of lettuce to her mouth. He was suddenly sure that he didn’t know who she was. She was a complete stranger.

“I got that especially for you, you better eat it.”

His head tilted down, staring at his hands folded in his lap and her eyes followed close behind. He coiled his hands together as if trying to pray.

“We’ve talked about this before. The answer is no.”

He looked at her with a silent plea he knew would fail.

“After we get the money, everything will get better. You know that right? Don’t worry so much,” her voice lightened while she spoke to him, giving a dim illusion of consideration with the same success as adding artificial sugar to stale coffee. “Until then-” the phone interrupted her from the other room.

She rushed through a smile that fell back down as she rose from her seat and walked to the other room. He leaned to the right trying to hear.

“That’s not what we agreed upon.”

 “No, no, I told you!”

“If you don’t bring it all you will never see your son again!” she dropped the phone and slowly walked back to her seat. She took another bite of her dinner as he stared at her.

“It’s getting cold,” she reminded him.

He leaned forward, but he couldn’t reach the glass.