Dinner for Two

Trigger warning: domestic violence, substance abuse

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

Lyra sighed, setting down the plates in her hands and turning to her sister. “I can’t prepare a nice dinner for my husband on Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, because you hate him,” Zoe frowned, looking up from her phone. “And I do too. I thought you were divorcing him soon.”

“I will.” Lyra said simply, passing a plate to Zoe. “Now help me set the table.”

Rolling her eyes, Zoe obliged to set the table with Lyra for the rest of the hour. 

“I don’t get it,” Zoe mustered her best serious-adult-confronting-a-child voice, which was quite hard, considering her age and size. “Won’t this make it harder for you?”

“Just trust me,” Lyra took Zoe’s hand and squeezed it once. “It won’t be long.”

“Lyra,” Zoe remained unfazed, giving her older sister a pointed look, “I want to. But this—this makes me worried. If you were going to break up with him I thought you would do it with people around.”

Lyra sighed, guiding Zoe towards the door and giving the young teen a gentle push. “Don’t worry about it. You should go back to mom’s place; she’ll need someone so she won’t drink herself an early death.”

Zoe hummed, still frowning and clearly annoyed, but could only wave Lyra goodbye and walk out the door, wrapping her coat around her as snow continued to fall. 

It was snowing this Valentine’s Day, which only made Lyra smile more. She always loved snow. It was scenic and poetic—a perfect combination for Valentine’s Day. 

The doorbell rang, and Lyra opened the door to see her husband step in, brushing snow off his coat with a scowl.

“Welcome home,” Lyra smiled, taking Daniel’s coat and pulling him into the warmness of the apartment. “How was work?”

“Fine.” Daniel hummed, stepping in and surveying the place. “Was anyone here?”

“Just my sister,” Lyra put on a gentle smile, “Zoe came over to help me.”

Daniel pulled a chair, sitting down as Lyra brought out the dishes. 

“What’s all this for?” Daniel frowned as he stared at the variety of dishes. Lyra had fried a nice steak with a side of potatoes and green asparagus. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” Lyra pouted as she took off her apron, folding it in a tight square before pouring them two glasses of wine. “Did you forget?”

“How shallow,” Daniel muttered, digging his knife into the red meat of the steak. “It’s just a capitalistic scam.”

Lyra shrugged, “Maybe. It’s romantic.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, taking a bite of the steak he cut into pieces. 

“It’s snowing awfully hard,” Lyra mentioned as she picked at her potatoes. She realized she forgot to put salt. “I thought it would’ve ended a while ago.”

Daniel continued to eat his steak. 

“We should make snow angels,” Lyra grinned, catching the annoyed look on her husband's face. “I've always loved doing that when I was younger.”

“How childish.”

“It’s romantic.” Lyra took her wine glass, raising it to the stoic man. “Won’t you give

me a toast, darling?”

Lyra and Daniel clinked their glasses, the sound reverberating through the walls.  

“How’s the steak?” Lyra asked, and watched as Daniel frowned. She didn’t like it when Daniel frowned at everything. It accentuated his stress lines that he would complain about later.

“Fine.”

Lyra didn’t like it when Daniel brushed her off so easily either. 

“How’re the potatoes?”

“Fine.”

“And the asparagus?”

Daniel sighed, throwing his fork down and scratching the white, porcelain plates. The noise was like nails on a chalkboard, and Lyra set her own fork down.

“What do you want me to say, Lyra?”

“Maybe something other than ‘fine’.” Lyra intertwined her hands as she looked across the table at Daniel, her voice quiet and meek. 

There was a moment of silence, as wind quickly kicked up and snow began to fall at a faster pace. Lyra heard the roof of their apartment creak with each gust, as if a loud friend who couldn’t read a room. 

“Well then, it’s shitty. The steak’s too well-done, the potatoes are tasteless, and the asparagus is dry.” Daniel stood up, pushing his chair out before downing the glass of wine. He made a face and set the wine glass hard enough for the noise to echo through the room. “Even the wine is cheap.”

“Sweetheart,” Lyra mirrored his actions, but in a much softer form. “You must be stressed today.”

Daniel didn’t answer her, instead opting to sprawl himself on the couch and turning on the television. Lyra let him, abandoning the dinner and joining him on the armchair next to the couch. She blew out the candles on the table, so that the only light in the apartment was a small lamp in the corner and the blue light of the television. 

“I talked to Mr. Hemmings,” Lyra said, and Daniel’s attention snapped to her.

“You talked to Wilson?” He sat up, alarmed as he questioned Lyra. “When?”

“Relax, darling,” Lyra gripped her hands on the armchair to keep them from shaking.

“The other day, when you invited Mr. Hemmings to dinner, along with his wife, remember? I believe it was last Thursday.”

“I see,” Daniel didn’t seem convinced. “What did he say?”

“He just mentioned you had some difficulties at work,” Lyra splayed her hands, “I thought dinner would be a pleasant surprise.”

Daniel rubbed his hand on his face. “Wilson’s an asshole. Always wanted to make me look bad.”

“Well, look on the positive side, dear,” Lyra stood up, making her way besides Daniel. “I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for him.”

“It’s not like you could help much either way,” Daniel scoffed, dodging his way out of Lyra’s touch. 

Lyra kept her smile, hastily retreating back to her armchair. “I wouldn’t think so. Tell

me, what were the difficulties?”

Daniel swallowed. It was a subtle action but Lyra was looking too intently at Daniel to not notice his eyes flicker around. 

“Just some bank stuff,” Daniel cleared his throat gruffly, “No need to worry about it.”

“Spare some details, Daniel,” Lyra crossed her legs together. 

“You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“Please, Daniel,” Lyra threw a look at the said man. “I used to work in a bank.”

“I said, it’s nothing.” Daniel stood up from the couch, cornering Lyra in her armchair. “Do I have to make you understand?”

Lyra choked back her gulp, but couldn’t resist flinching at Daniel’s animosity. She

hated how her body reacted without thought. 

“How bold for someone who’s being arrested for fraud.”

“What did you just say?” Daniel hissed, his eyes scanning around as if someone was listening. 

“Contrary to what you think,” Lyra said, fighting to keep from lowering her eyes, “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable.” Daniel narrowed his eyes, “What did Hemmings tell you?”

“You’re being arrested for money laundering and tax fraud.” Lyra’s back was now stuck to the chair as Daniel wouldn't let up. “I heard the investigation's going great.”

Daniel reeled back, raising his arm to strike her in the face. Lyra fell from the chair as he clenched his fist, already mid-action before he saw the camera.

On the ground, Lyra’s shoulders shook weakly as she pressed send. The video would be plenty of evidence for her lawyer. 

“I suppose on top of that: domestic violence.”

“I’ll kill you!” Daniel pupils constricted as he rushed to the kitchen, “I swear to god I will, Lyra, stop fucking with me!”

I wish you’d done it sooner.

Lyra sat up slowly as her face stung, letting her head slack against the leg of the chair.

She felt her hair stick to her face, and gave a humorless huff of a laugh. She already knew it was the blood from her nose, and that all the concealer in the world wouldn’t cover up the wounds he caused her. 

The siren noises were like music to her ears.

“You called the cops?” Daniel came out of the kitchen, holding a butcher knife out as his hands trembled, along with his voice. Even as he approached Lyra, he couldn't bring himself to do anything.

Coward.

Lyra closed her eyes without answering. Daniel’s hands never trembled in her memories. 

Of course, Daniel never hit her either, in her memories. 

Lyra only watched the snow fall as Daniel was put in handcuffs, hearing, but not listening to the yells of forgiveness, pleas, and curses.  

She gripped the blanket around herself harder. The snowstorm seemed colder than usual. 

...

The process was quicker, but louder than Lyra expected. The video and the eyewitnesses that night were enough to solidify Daniel’s criminal charges. On top of the fraud, he wouldn’t be out of prison for a while.

Lyra had already packed her things and moved to live with her mom and Zoe for a while, but she decided it was some sort of closure as she walked through the slippery iced surface of the stairs to her old apartment.

Lyra hated the fact she remembered everything. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the end.

As she walked into the small, main bedroom, she spotted something lying face-down on her old makeup drawer. 

Turning it over, Lyra was surprised to find her cheeks wet, and a few more stains on the picture frame. 

She really, really hated the fact she remembered the good.

Lyra couldn’t even recognize the two people in the picture. All she knew they were a bride and a groom, smiling brightly for an uncertain future.

Turning over the picture, Lyra walked out of the bedroom, then the apartment, out to the melted snow.

Maybe it could have worked out. But Lyra would never know—nor did she want to.

All she knew was that the sun shining through the snow was a little warmer than yesterday. 

...

Wilson was sitting in the old 1980s Chevy, waiting for Lyra in the front of the apartment. He liked collecting vintage cars. 

“How are you feeling?” He opened the passenger seat door for Lyra. 

“Better.” Lyra smiled up at the other man before sliding into her seat. “How’s Mandy?”

Wilson gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “Found her laying on a bottle of pills that were meant for me.”

Lyra hummed, setting her hand on Wilson’s. “You’re good. We’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Wilson then broke out into a small laugh. “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re good.”

It was fate that kept Daniel and Mandy intertwined, it was only fate that made them intertwined together, forever. 

Lyra gave a small giggle as she watched the slippery road from the melted ice. 

She no longer needed to find solace in the snow.