Just Two
Owen’s hands worked clumsily peeling potatoes. The skins and some chunks of the white meat fell sloppily into the kitchen sink - and some on the floor at his feet - with each stroke of the paring knife.
He knew for one he didn’t have the ideal tool for the task. Julianna had always used a peeler. It made this chit chit chit chit sound when she’d used it. Her hands had always worked rapidly. Peeling these delicate strips of ugly potato skin. Hardly any meat was wasted.
He couldn’t find the peeler though. So he’d chosen a paring knife.
Julianna hardly ever needed to look at what she was doing half the time. She could turn the potato and by feel peel the skin on the next side. She often stared out the window when she peeled. Or chattered with him or the kids or on the phone. She had gotten so good at peeling she could pin her cell phone between her shoulder and ear and talk and talk while peeling.
He wondered what she was watching when she looked out the kitchen window while peeling. Probably for birds. She had this knack for spotting wildlife. He never found bird watching interesting but she would grab his hand and point out species to him nonetheless. Always bent towards life.
He put his face closer to the window to watch sunlight filtering through leaves in the big oak that shaded the back yard. Prismed light moved along the grass when the breeze ruffled branches. A squirrel bounced around like a stage actor in the natural moving spotlight seemingly pleased with itself. Peering closer still he watched the neighbor’s pine tree dust the yard with dead needles. He made a mental note to check the gutters that invariably filled with those fucking needles.
An open-eyed dream started playing over the scene in the yard. Julianna with her hair pulled back into a bun wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. In that same motion she shoved her boxy sunglasses back up onto the bridge of her nose from where it had fallen to the tip. It immediately started sliding back down her nose which was a little bit slick from perspiration. She was bent over the little herb planter she asked him to put together for her with cute brown work gloves embroidered with a flower and butterfly on the wrist. She had sanded and painted the planter herself and was filling it with herbs she would use for cooking. She stopped looking distressed for just a second before a cute sneeze seized her whole body. Then she laughed heartily chin tilted upwards amused because the force of the little sneeze had made her drop a handful of dirt on their patio.
“Shit.” The sensation of knife meeting finger prompted the curse. It wasn’t even pain that drew his attention but rather the feeling of the knife meeting a squishier texture. He’d been staring off out the window lost in thought and gone and cut himself while trying to emulate Julianna’s peeling style and the way she watched the yard.
Now he was bleeding all over the potato. It looked like some piece of shit abstract art exhibit. A weird pale vaguely potato-shaped polygon with a red substance smearing over it. He dropped the ruined vegetable into the sink and washed out the wound with a stinging hot water.
When he stepped to reach for napkins he felt potato skins squish underfoot.
“Fuck.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been dropping skins all over the floor. It looked like he was missing the sink half the time.
After wrapping his bleeding finger in a napkin, Owen bent to pick up the potato skins from the floor. He dragged the garbage can over pile and flung the skins inside. The actions were punctuated by the sickly wet sounds of the skins meeting the plastic bag.
He threw out the bloodied potato too. He wouldn’t have normally wasted the vegetable. Surely washing and boiling it would rid it of any germs. But he was cooking a dish for Nic’s class. His conscious couldn’t allow him to knowingly cook up a potato that had touched his blood and serve it to the other children.
Nic needed a traditional Eskran dish for the International Food Faire. This was a task Julianna would have delighted in. She had cooked the very dish for their family many times before. A hearty pot pie always in the winter. Served in a cast iron skillet.
Owen had found the recipe card. Worn with use. A grease stain on the corner. Her handwriting faded.
2 pounds of potatoes peeled and quartered.
Two pounds suddenly felt too heavy. Her absence felt too heavy. It wasn’t that he missed her for the tasks she performed. He could learn to do all of that. He missed the way she did things. Her smile, her laugh, the little bones that shifted under the skin of her hands when she fiddled with kitchen stuff he had no knowledge of. He missed the long-standing joke they played out over the endless implements for baking and cooking she stuffed into their cabinets and asked him to get down for her.
He missed teasing her.
We don’t need that, love. He would warn even as her eyes sparkled with the victory she had yet to win over him. I do need that. And I want it. He would sigh and pick the box up for her. Fine.
Owen knew he could survive alone.
But I do need her. And I want her.
Somehow he had torn the kitchen apart. The cabinets were open. Baking pans had thundered together and against the wall when he threw them screaming that he wanted her. He tore open drawers and threw spatulas and spoons and measuring cups and a garlic press. He wasn’t hearing the noise he made. Just this wooshing sound in his ears.
Owen ran his finger over the recipe card, her once perfect handwriting. He picked it up and pressed it to his chest and sunk down to the floor. He let his hands fall away from himself. The recipe card fell to his leg and slid off onto the floor. His legs were somewhat apart in a small open V. Hands at his sides palms up. The posture felt good to him. It was weak. It was open. Like he was giving his grief up to the room. He sat there looking at the messed up kitchen and worried over whether he had given her everything she had ever wanted. Was there another pan he could have bought her? Another witty joke he could have told before swiping the card? Had he missed any opportunities to touch his hand to her shoulder or back as he reached for whatever she asked him to retrieve?
“Dad?” At some point his son had come to investigate the noise after it died down. Best to let the storms pass before surveying the damage. He found his father sitting on the floor, bleeding into a napkin, and staring at the fridge.
Owen didn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Nic. “I can’t do this.” He whispered.
Nic moved into Owen’s line of sight. The boy bent to take the recipe card from where it had fallen next to his father’s thigh.
“I’m sorry, Nic.”
The child’s green eyes moved over the words on the recipe card. He read the directions one by one to understand the process. He knelt down and placed a small hand over his father’s injured one. “I can help you, dad.” He offered quietly. “We can make it together.”
Owen’s eyes flicked to meet his son’s gaze. He felt a welling of something inside. He touched Nic’s face and then pulled the boy against him in a hug. He crushed down the tide of emotion inside and smashed the child against him.
“We need to buy a potato peeler.”
Nic pulled away and tapped his his father on the nose with his index finger. “Two peelers, silly.”
“Two. Yes.”
Nic wouldn’t know how the number two stabbed into his heart. It was an even number and weren’t even numbers nice to deal with? Sure, but it wasn’t round and full and complete like the number three. Like the three of them could have been together if she wasn't dead.
Two could be enough to live for. It had to be enough for the patient-like-his-mother green eyed boy that waited for him to stand.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
The following 1 user Likes saronym's post: SolitareLee
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 08-26-2015, 10:08 PM
Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 08-26-2015, 10:12 PM
Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 08-30-2015, 10:49 PM
Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-03-2015, 04:44 PM
Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-30-2015, 05:42 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 10-18-2015, 08:05 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 11-12-2015, 11:03 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 11-21-2015, 04:52 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 10-03-2016, 05:44 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 01-24-2016, 07:47 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-11-2016, 10:47 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-16-2016, 11:44 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-17-2016, 02:16 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-21-2016, 09:14 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-26-2016, 06:37 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-28-2016, 08:56 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 10-07-2016, 09:12 AM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 10-25-2016, 05:09 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 11-03-2016, 05:28 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 11-15-2016, 10:43 AM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 11-30-2016, 02:52 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 02-11-2017, 10:22 AM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 04-13-2017, 04:16 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 04-30-2017, 08:27 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 05-14-2017, 06:30 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 05-29-2017, 12:07 AM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 06-01-2017, 08:13 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 06-17-2017, 07:24 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 06-21-2017, 07:06 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 07-30-2017, 09:04 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 09-19-2017, 12:31 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 10-25-2017, 11:59 AM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 11-18-2017, 01:45 AM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 12-08-2017, 06:21 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 03-04-2018, 09:16 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 03-30-2018, 10:28 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 04-05-2018, 02:45 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 04-30-2018, 04:38 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 07-17-2018, 02:57 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 01-12-2019, 07:09 PM
RE: Artifacts [Read Only] - by saronym - 02-08-2019, 11:42 AM