If I Never Went Home by Ingrid Persaud

Author:Ingrid Persaud
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Blue China Press
Published: 2013-10-11T23:00:00+00:00

[1. Trinidadian street food, a doubles is a sandwich made with two bara (a soft, fried bread) filled with curried chickpeas and garnished with tamarind, cucumber, hot sauce and the herb chadon beni.]

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bea stood outside Michael’s apartment taking deep breaths to steady herself. She was wearing new clothes ­– grey jeans and a silky white top. Dr. Payne was right. She needed to be getting out more, and Michael’s invitation to dinner at his place was something she wanted to do and thought she could handle. They were developing an easy understanding founded on their childhood friendship. Michael also had the knack of being present without intruding – something Bea appreciated.

She smoothed the short bangs off her forehead, straightened her top and dared to press the buzzer. When he opened his apartment door his face looked happy and she thought a little nervous. They kissed lightly on the lips rather than on the cheeks as they usually did. She awkwardly handed him a bottle of wine and a single lily she had picked in the park nearby. His hands were trembling as he accepted the gifts. The red wine he had bought was already breathing.

‘Your place is lovely,’ she said, accepting the glass of wine he offered. ‘Cosy.’

‘I’ve been cleaning all day,’ he replied.

She smiled. ‘What inspired that?’

‘Well, I’ve been here over a year and the place needed a good tidy.’

She ran her hand along the bookshelf. ‘For a computer person you have a lot of books. We have quite a few authors in common.’

‘I do so much on my computer I guess I enjoy the feel of real books. One day I’ll get around to sorting them,’ he said, raising his glass of wine. ‘Cheers.’

They drank in silence as Bea thumbed through books. A timer went off and made her jump.

‘You want to come in the kitchen while I finish cooking?’ he asked.

‘Sure. What’s for dinner?’

He smiled. ‘I’ve been slaving over a hot stove for days.’

He took her hand and led the way. She sat at the small kitchen table set with a white cloth and proper linen napkins, sipping her wine while he made a green salad.

‘We’re having lasagne, salad and garlic bread. For dessert we have strawberries and cream.’

‘Don’t remember the last time I had such a home-made feast.’

‘Wait till you taste it. I know Trini people are super-critical if food is not up to their exacting standards.’

‘It smells wonderful.’

While he placed dishes on the table he asked her to put on some music. Bea anxiously flicked through his iPod and settled on a Bach compilation.

Dinner was delicious and the conversation uncomplicated. Bea forgot the horrors of the past months and enjoyed the unfolding evening with this man she had been lucky to find again after so long. Later they moved to his compact sofa and he slowly fed her strawberries. She began to feel uneasy.

‘Bea, are you crying?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wiping her face. ‘I didn’t even realise.’

‘It’s not the normal reaction I get when feeding a girl strawberries.

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