Fragile Ground by Louisa Keller

Author:Louisa Keller [Keller, Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-26T18:30:00+00:00

Auriel sleeps through the afternoon and evening, waking long after the sun has set. He finds Stella in the kitchen, drinking box wine and scrolling aimlessly through one of her social media feeds. She looks up when he comes in and immediately says, “feeling better?”

“I don’t know,” Auriel mutters, sitting down beside her at the rickety kitchen table. The house has been in Stella’s family for generations, and it’s full of odd, charming objects. The clock above the stove is shaped like a crab and is hung slightly off-kilter; the living room boasts a raggedy tie-dyed papasan chair sitting across from two well-worn recliners; there is an alarming amount of nautically-themed knick-knacks taking over most of the flat surfaces in the house. Auriel has always found the mismatched décor enchanting, and tonight he takes comfort in it.

“Do you want a drink?” Stella asks.

Auriel shrugs.

“It’s a yes or no question, A. We’re starting out with an easy one,” says Stella. She keeps looking at him expectantly, so he finally relents.

“What do you have on tap?”

“Glad you asked,” says Stella. “I personally recommend the seven dollar pinot gris, straight out of the box. But I also managed to unearth an alarmingly large bottle of Malibu, still three quarters full.”

Auriel makes a face. “I think I hit my lifetime quota for Malibu when I was in college.”

“One cheap pinot it is then,” replies Stella, grabbing a large chipped mug emblazoned with the phrase But First, Coffee, and pouring a generous amount of wine into it. She sets the mug down in front of Auriel with a flourish and then walks over to the fridge. “I’m not sure what I have to offer in terms of food, but you should probably eat something.”

Auriel’s stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly, and they both laugh. “Looks like I have all the fixings for grilled cheese. Interested?”

Auriel shrugs. “Sure.”

“I bet I can even rustle up some tomato soup,” Stella says, digging through a cupboard that is positively bursting with canned goods. “Bingo! Alright, get ready to flash back to elementary school, kid. This is the epitome of comfort food.”

They don’t talk while Stella cooks, and Auriel is grateful for a few moments to gather his thoughts. He still feels tired and sluggish from the sedative, and he wonders vaguely if it’s a good idea to add wine into the equation. He can’t quite be bothered to act responsibly at the moment though, so he pushes that thought aside and goes about preparing himself to tell Stella the sordid story of his afternoon.

“Crusts on or off?” she asks, breaking him from his reverie.

“Off please,” he says automatically. And then, “can you cut it diagonally?”

“Duh,” says Stella, “I’m not a heathen.” She places a plate and bowl in front of him before sitting down on the other side of the table.

The food goes down easily, which surprises Auriel. Sometimes he finds food comforting when he’s anxious and depressed, but more often he can’t stomach anything other than tea for days at a time while he works through his turbulent emotions.

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