Dinner at Eight

            Sunlight spilled through an exposed window, highlighting the slightly smoky air and complicated dance of dust particles, whose only audience was a grey cat’s following eyes. A slight woman in a cheery yellow sundress was busily setting three places at a rectangular oak table, which took up the majority of the small room. The table was covered in savory dishes that filled the air with an aroma of rich delights, each dish matching those around it as well as the tablecloth and the settings: a complete set.

            The woman shouted to the empty air as she fixed each setting for the third time, “George, Janey, it’s time for dinner!”

            The cat watched; its head turning in one continuous motion as it followed the resulting dust-swirls of the woman’s outburst against the bright backdrop of the walls. A worn, polished hutch (a matched piece to the table) filled the rest of the room, leaving only enough space for a small, spare chair - upon which the observant feline perched - and room to maneuver if the chairs were fully pushed in. It wasn’t just the table; every piece of furniture in the small, one-level home seemed to dwarf the next which resulted in well-worn paths of travel and the clawing feeling of being trapped.

            Whith a sudden climax of quick, incoming footsteps reaching the dining room there was a hasty streak of grey and the choreography of the swirling particles was left without an audience.

            “Mommy!” Janey skidded, her fluffy slippers sending her into the table as she braced herself against the collision. “Look what Daddy helped me make on the ‘puter!”

            She held up a piece of paper covered in Disney Princesses, each in their different state of repose, and her eyes grew wide in an animate re-telling of each princesses' backstory. Amidst her exclamations, Janey’s father arrived and sat quietly at the far end of the table, distracting the child as the woman rolled her eyes.

            “Daddy, it’s Chicken Oskabli for dinner! Yer fav-or-it!” Janey clapped her little hands.

            “What? Yes,I see it is. Pass me your plate, Janey-bug,” her father replied, distractedly beginning to serve the meal.

            When the serving dishes were marred with gashes of scoops and hurried slices, the empty silence was replaced with the sounds of smacking lips and huffs of breath - hastily fit in between chews - and of lips being rubbed from shoulder to wrist.

            “For God sakes, Janey, use your napkin!”

            Her mother nodded curtly towards the napkin still left on the table in front of the little girl, “you’ll never find a prince with those manners.”

            “Yes, mother, I’m sorry.” Janey’s eyes looked down at the table cloth, and she used her napkin to wipe her face, her little red cheeks losing some of their warm color.

            “Do you have to do this every time we eat together?”

            Janey looked up, wide-eyed at her father. It was rare that they all ate together, and even rarer that her father was present enough to be involved in conversation. 

            “I’m sorry, Fath-” Janey began, thinking he had been speaking to her.

            “Are you really going to criticize me in front of our daughter?” Her mother barked back, cutting her off and startling the girl into silence.

            “And you didn’t even mention all the work I put into this dinner for you!” she went on, throwing her fabric napkin onto the table as she stood up, bumping her chair loudly against the wall behind her.

            “This is not the time.” Her father stated, smoothing his tie and wiping his clean face with his napkin.

            “When is the time, Georgie? Better yet, where is it? Every conversation we have in this miniature house can be heard by anyone, no matter where we are. I can’t take it anymore!” The woman’s balled fist began to pump up and down in the air.

            Janey slid down in her chair, staring blankly at the cheery arrangement of Daisies in a crystal vase at the center of the table. She very carefully used her napkin to wipe her lips, her eyes momentarily resting on her mother as she did so.

            “It’s always about this house!” Her father erupted. “It’s too small. It’s embarrassing. It isn’t in the right neighborhood. I’m sick of it! Sick of it all! After last year, we’re lucky to be in a house at all. Have you ever thought of that?” Janey watched as her father’s hand gripped his fork so hard, that his knuckles went from red to white.

            “I think of that just as much as you thought before investing our money into that ridiculous dream of yours”

            Janey’s father slammed his fist on the table, rattling her glass of milk which shook, just as the little girl began to.

            “OUR DREAM!”

            Janey’s father dropped his fork, freeing his hands to grab at the small patch of hair that was left on the top of his head.  

            “It was our dream, Carolyn, and it was what I worked my whole life towards. For US!”

            As suddenly as he exploded, Janey’s father deflated and got eerily calm.

            “Do you think I don’t regret what happened?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

“That I don’t wish I could have foreseen the market’s collapse?”

            Suddenly, her mother’s eyes snapped into focus.

            “Regret? Oh, I know all about it, George. ALL about it! I used to be beautiful. Full of life. I’m nothing but a dried-out husk of what I used to be. And now?”

            Her mother’s hands fluttered to her hips and stomach as her eyes pounced on Janey.

            “Now all I do is cook. And clean. And try to fit our old life into this tiny coffin you’ve put me in!”

            Janey’s mother was shouting again. As her voice rose to a shrill, Janey slipped down further in her chair, melting under the table as her parents' voices and emotions escalated.

            The table shook above her.

            “How dare you?! How dare you throw this in my face and make it all about you when I have worked - when I still work - every second of every day to get you what you want. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT FROM ME?” Her father screamed.

            Forgotten under the table, Janey’s eyes followed her parent’s feet as they continually retreated from, and surged toward each other in a macabre dance. When her father began to break their dishes one by one, all the while accusing her mother of caring more for possessions than she ever had for him or Janey, her mother grabbed the carving knife off the table.

            In that same moment, the little girl bolted from under the table and ran through the front door, with the cat following close on her heels.

            Janey ran through her yard, through the yard of her neighbors, and into the woods. She kept running until her ragged breaths began to burn and her slippers were heavily soaked. She turned in circles; eyes squinting as she looked all around her.

            It was another thirty minutes before she found a small house; following its cheery yellow lights to escape the cold darkness of the woods. Janey knocked on the front door. A small, older man opened the door. He had clear blue eyes which crinkled in the corners as he smiled down at his surprise guest.

            “Hello, Sir. My name is Janey.” The girl rubbed her right elbow with her left hand and tried to smile. “I’m lost. May I please use your phone?”

            “Why, of course, dearie. You poor thing. Come in.” The man stepped back.

            She passed the old man as he leaned out to shut the door and was left standing in a sparsely furnished room. The room wasn’t much bigger than the one she had just run from, but without the oversized furniture and oversized emotions, it felt endlessly larger by comparison.

            The old man peered out as he reached for the storm door, his head turning left and right to be sure no one had seen her come in. Something like a smile twisted his thin lips - never reaching his cold, predatory eyes. And while whistling a cheery tune, he closed  the door of his cabin, locking it behind him.

 

END.

Reviews

[Zoe Kaufhold]

The detail in this piece is great, I loved the small picture of real life issues. The ending was a cliff hanger which made me want to read more. Good job.

[Gaia Octavia]

Thank you very much ☺