Bon Appétit

CW: Swearing.

Monday 10:35PM

The woman looks like she hasn't slept in days. When she speaks, you can hear the shy tears somewhere in her throat. “I don't know, I went to meet up with a friend of ours and when I came home, he wasn't here. I called him, he didn't pick up. And when he still wasn't home by the next morning, I kept calling him, still nothing. I asked his family, his friends, no one knows anything. It doesn't make sense, he usually communicates his whereabouts. And I've been calling our friend, Remi, the one I went to meet, he isn't picking up either. They were supposed to meet up yesterday but I don't know if they did. I just don't know what's going on.”

“Madam, do you have any idea where he could be? Any guesses? Anything at all that could be of help?”

“I don't know, there's this crazy girl who's in love with him or whatever, she's been disturbing him, calling him, and he's been turning her down. Maybe she has something to do with his disappearance, I don't know. I'm just so confused. No one has an idea where Khalid is, no one can reach Remi, I don't know what to do. Please just help me find my boyfriend, I beg you. It's been since Friday night, please help me…”

***

Friday 2:40 PM

I'm sitting across from him as he takes his first bite. He closes his eyes, moans, “This tastes divine.” He takes in another one. “Babe, this is so good, too good. How can you make something so spectacular with something as simple as spaghetti? At this point, you're a demon in that kitchen, you should be in jail.”

“You have no idea.”

“But I actually do. I'm eating this right now, aren't I?”

“Babe, you don't know half the things I could do with pasta.”

“I would love to find out all. Because this? This is simply amazing.”

I smile. “Bon appétit.”

“I definitely will.” I laugh and keep watching him eat, smiling at how he reacts to the food. I love to cook for him, I love to see that look on his face when he's eating my food, and today, it's even more special. I love it even more.

“Jane isn't feeling very well, and I want to take some food along when I go and visit her, but I don't know what to cook.”

He sucks a strand of spaghetti into his mouth. “Cook anything, she loves your food.”

“Yeah everybody does, but she's sick. I don't know if there are things she shouldn't eat. Not sure I can even make her her favourite pepper soup, 'cause pepper.”

He shrugs as he rolls spaghetti around his fork, “Maybe you should bake her a cake. Or cupcakes.”

“A get-well-soon cake! Babe, you're a genius.”

“Speaking of, Fewa called when you were out. She and Chuks say thank you for the meal. They said the cupcake desserts were ‘orgasmic’. That was Fewa.”

I laugh. “Of course it was Fewa. It's my pleasure though. I love them, I'm always happy to cook them something.”

He hums in response as he pushes a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. We're silent, and I know what the silence will lead to if I don't stand up and leave or one of us don't quickly talk about something else. It's the topic silence has always led to since we made up two weeks ago. And as I see his fork linger in the pool of spaghetti before it picks some up, I know it's too late to do anything, he's about to speak. 

“Um, so, she called this morning.”

I can only say, “oh”. He was bold enough to get involved with her, why can't he be bold enough to actually say, “my lover, the woman you caught me with” instead of a vague, “she”, but it's all good now, it doesn't matter now.

“Yeah, um, she asked me if there was anyway we could still work things out, but I told her no, that it was done, over, completely.” I don't say anything. I really don't want to talk about this because honestly, the entire thing still really hurts. I can tell he's waiting for me to say something and when I don't, he continues, “I thought you'd want to know, you know, since we agreed on absolute transparency. And keeping to that is really important to me.” So now it's important to you. It wasn't important to you when you were going from panties to panties for five years. But it's alright, it's all over, it doesn't matter now. I respond, “Yeah thanks.” He smiles, winks at me, and digs his fork into his food. I hate myself for this but even now, that wink still does something to me inside. I'm sure it's what lured all the other women. It kills me to think that I'm just like them.

“And um, I was wondering,” oh God no. “Are you and Remi cool now? I know it's all up to you but, I'll just feel really bad if you and I are in a better place and the both of you aren't, you know, 'cause it was my fault.”

“You don't have to worry, we're going to be fine. We haven't spoken since last week when we tried to talk things out but we're not in a bad place. We're meeting over dinner tomorrow to try again at settling things.”

“Oh that's good.”

“I'm making the dinner.”

“Oh that's great!”

I laugh, “I'm sure he'll feel the same. When we spoke last week, he said he felt downcast when he saw that I didn't come with food. He said that showed him that I came for war. So tomorrow, I'm taking food along, he'll be glad to see.”

“Yes he will. And, um, I've been thinking of going to see him, to apologize in person for the mess I put him in—we also are in quite a weird place. Maybe I can go with you?”

“No, I'd like it to be just us, it'd be better that way. But you should go to his place on Sunday. I'll let him know you're coming so he'll stay home.”

“Oh alright. That's fair, thanks. He's really sorry, you know.”

“I do. Just like how you're really sorry.”

“Yes baby, I am. I really really extremely am.”

“It's alright. Just eat your food. Enjoy your meal.”

“Yes ma'am.” He shoves spaghetti into his mouth, the only thing you can hear is the distant sound of his chewing and I want to ask about his work, or his family, anything that doesn't have to do with this shit, but he beats me to swallow his chewed pasta and speak. “Babe?”

“Yes?”

“Do you still love me?”

I wasn't expecting that, not one bit. “Of course I do. I still do. Very much.” And that's the truth. Even after I found out about everything, I still really love him. If I didn't, I would have packed up my things and left this house. I love him, and that's the only reason I'm here, watching him eat this delicious delicacy that I made him.

“Thank you so much. I love you too. Very much. More than you think. I don't want you to ever leave me.”

“I don't want to.”

“And I'm never going to leave you either. Well, except if it's for your happiness, of course.”

“I know, babe. That's why you deserve this meal.”

***

Saturday 18:20 PM

I double check that the door is locked before I head to the car with my bag of food—Semo and Eforiro. The Semo will thrill him, he knows how much I hate it, how it's the one thing I hate to cook but I did it anyway, for him. He'll see that I really mean to make peace. I almost text him to let him know I'm on my way but I decide it would be wiser if I text him when I'm fifteen minutes away, so I just re-check my boot, get in the car, turn on my engine and drive off. 

In all our eleven years of friendship, this is the biggest issue by far Remi and I have ever had. I have questioned his loyalty before—I have questioned everybody's loyalty at some point, even my mother's and my sisters'—but eventually, I saw that he indeed was in my corner, and since then I've felt very safe with him, maybe too safe, and that was a mistake.

Remi and I have been a duo since our first year in University, since we broke up after dating for only three weeks, realizing we were more compatible as friends. Remi understood things about me that nobody else did, not even my family. He was the first person to see how much holding it together, as a young child, because of my younger siblings when my father suddenly died took its toll on me. Remi found out a lot about me, saw all the sides of me and still stayed. As the detached girl who had no friends in secondary school and had only ever felt loved by her family, Remi's friendship was a special surprise. Never had I thought I could ever trust anyone that wasn't my family until Remi. And for eleven years, he didn't prove me wrong, until now. Or I guess until five years ago. Or maybe even before then; who knows for how long, in what other ways, he has been a fucking traitor. His betrayal hurt me more than Khalid's did, and even if I never said it out loud, I'm sure they're both aware of this.

And last week when I finally agreed to speak to him, he could have just said a simple sorry. He could have just knelt down and cried and begged for my forgiveness. It wouldn't have changed anything but it might have made me feel a bit sorry. Instead, he started telling me a whole bunch of nonsense. He didn't want to hurt my feelings, he was scared of what I'd do, he thought he could convince him to stop, blah blah blah, all bullshit. He even had the guts to mention bro code! Who gives a shit about bro code! I wanted to scream at him, I'm your bro! Me! I might be a woman, but it's me who should be the 'bro' here, your loyalty lies with me! But I was fuming too much to manage a word. I won't be fuming today, a bit annoyed, because it still hurts, it always will, but I won't be raging with anger, so I'll be able to manage words, too bad I won't need them much. Today, I don't want to argue, I want the meeting to be peaceful and warm, because it's all right now, all of that doesn't matter now. I want him to know that I'm ready to move past this, to move on. I will never ever forget about it, but he'll eat the food, and I'll move on.

Google maps shows me that I'm five minutes away from our rendezvous, less than one minute away from my detour. I look behind me, the next vehicle is far away, and it remains that way until I turn left, into a nearly deserted street I've only been in twice before last night. There are hardly people outside, and even if there were, my window is almost criminally tinted, so I'm fine. I keep on driving, no turns, until I start seeing buildings less and less, until they completely disappear, and I know I'm close. 

The land comes into view; vast and empty, nothing but the few weeds and grasses growing on it. I drive in, my spot is still a few minutes away. Finally, I see the sign, a Do Not Cross sign held up with a stick, and I stop my car. I do not know who put the sign there or who owns the land but whoever it is is probably dead or has forgotten about it. It hasn't changed since three years ago, after I had a big fight with Khalid and decided to take a drive to cool off and somehow found myself here. Completely alone and at peace.

A month ago, after I caught him with the lady, after when I phoned Remi in tears to vent and the shift in his voice told me he'd known all about it, after he accidentally spilled to me that it had been happening since the very beginning, I drove here again, and when I got here, to this ominous sign, I knew just what to do.

From where I stand, I can see the holes beyond the sign, just like I left them last night, with my shovel and a heap of sand beside each, good. I don't know if they're up to six feet but who cares? As long as it's not shallow. I go to the boot of the car, drag out the black bag that occupies it. It seems heavier than it was when I put it in before dawn. I keep on dragging it until I get to the Do Not Cross sign, until I cross it, until I reach my hole. 

I wanted you to see the better part of me, with you I wanted to be only the best version of myself, that's why you never heard, not from my family, not from Remi, that I was a beast in uni. You don't know about the not so few people I have given belly aches, tummy troubles. You don't know about the people that weren't able to attend classes because they kept running to the toilet every five seconds because of me. You don't know about the one time that I was caught with my ‘substances’ and almost got rusticated. You don't know me. Maybe I should have let you, maybe then you would have saved yourself.

I unzip the bag and bring him—or it now, there should be a change of pronouns—out, roll it into one of the holes. Thankfully, it lands on its back, and I don't have to worry about turning it over. I pick up my shovel and start to fill the hole.

“You have no idea how many times my heart has anticipated love and gotten disappointed,” I say out loud. “Broken over and over again that there was hardly anything left to break. And I just got tired eventually and swore to myself that my main priority would be to protect the little that's left of my heart. So I'm sorry baby, I'm just doing what I have to do.” I throw in the the first heap. “I do love you, I do. Very much. That's why I can't leave you. I knew I wouldn't be able to walk away from you if I tried, so this was the only way I could get us separated. Because baby,” I throw in another heap, “we can't stay together. I can't feel safe with you anymore. How do you expect me to trust you not to do it again when you did it our entire relationship, and with a menagerie of women! No babe, no. I have to do this. I can't have you break my heart again, over and over again. The poor thing has been through enough, I have to be kind.” Another heap. “I'm doing this so I can move on, that's the only way I can be happy. Didn't you say it yourself that you're interested in my happiness?” Another heap. “I've told you about my father. Even before we became serious, I told you about how he always told me to never, ever, let myself be disrespected. You could have left me then if you knew that was what you wanted to do, if you knew that was who you were. Why then did you decide to hurt me instead? Why would you say you love me and then go ahead and hurt me like this? You know, maybe you actually do deserve this.” I throw in heaps and heaps of sand until I throw in the final heap, and use my shovel to smoothen it as well as I can. “Don't worry love,” I look to the hole beside it, “you won't be alone for too long. Just give it until tomorrow night, and you'll have company. Someone to cover up for you as you move from skirt to skirt in the afterlife. And I hope you have a good one.”

I take the black bag back to the boot of my car, leave the shovel behind. I get into the car, and after I use my hand sanitizer, I text Remi that I'm on my way, and drive away from my now not-so-empty land.

***

Saturday, 19:35PM

Here's somethingthing Khalid never knew, and it might just be the most important thing about me: I'm a psychopath. Because, honest to God, I've been trying, really trying, to be a better person, it has been repressed for some years now, so Khalid never knew, but Remi does. Remi has known this for a long time, so I wonder why he still did that. Maybe he thinks he's above my psychopathy. Maybe because he knows how much I love him, he thinks I can just let it go when he betrays me like this. Who the fuck does he think he is? Even my own mother isn't above my demons, and she knows it. Remi should have known better than to think he can take advantage of my love. He thinks so highly of himself and he needs to be humbled. If Remi could disrespect me like this this once, he'd do it over and over and over again. And my poor little heart wouldn't survive that. That's why he deserves this meal.