Flash Fiction |
The Way it Goes I am not a company person. More a loner. Unfortunately, my husband is very much a company person, especially if he gets to cook. He loves to cook, and loves more, inviting people over and cooking for them. (Cooking also not one of my talents…) Yes, I have often wondered how we got together in the first place myself. I am good at a couple things he lacks any talent in. Cleaning, of course… decorating a room so it looks inviting, setting the table, and of course clean up… Heaven forbid the “cook” has to clean up (unless it’s me cooking, then it’s expected.) I don’t mind, I get to hide in the kitchen for as long as I can stretch it out while they chat away about whatever. I’ve been in the conversations enough to know I’m not missing anything… This day, his family was coming to dinner, so I have the addition of really wanting his family to like me. They already “like” me, I guess, but only necessity “like.” They were hoping he would end up with another girl… It never would have worked out though, she cooks too, and from what I heard, different methods… ouch! Well, the table was done. Plates, silver, glasses, cloth napkins (I used the plain white because his family apparently deems stripes as tacky...) and a lovely arrangement of roses in a basket in the middle. I was actually kind of proud. How could we be married three years already, and I never heard that his mother was allergic to roses? |