Carbonara

Melanie pushed the dog fur tumbleweed around on the floor with the toe of her shoe. She had been meaning to sweep for a week now but couldn’t muster the energy.

“Mel, are you listening?”

“What? Sorry, yeah. It’s just the floor.”

“The floor?”

James stared at her in the way he always did when he was trying to hide his frustration. It was like he thought if he practised enough she wouldn’t notice the downturn of his mouth, or the furrow in his brow, but of course she always did.

“Yeah, there’s fur on the floor, and it’s that I meant to—I just meant to sweep, but…sorry. It’s not important. I’m trying to focus.” She shook her head as she spoke.

She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her. She knew she had to look up. Rambling about the floor wouldn’t save her from it.

James sighed. “How about we get out of the house? Just for a bit. I think it might be fun. We could go to that Italian place in town you like.”

Melanie chewed on the end of her thumb, still looking down at her shoe. The last time they had been to Marcos was their 10th anniversary dinner. Melanie hadn’t felt up to anything grand, but James insisted they celebrate and so they wound up at Marcos eating carbonara. It’s funny how things were so different now, but somehow still the same.

“What do you say?” James asked.

Melanie lifted her head to meet his gaze. She had always loved his eyes—the way they would shift from grey to blue to green depending on the colour of his shirt, yet the brown flecks surrounding each iris unchanged. There was something behind there, she knew it, but she couldn’t figure it out. She studied his whole face—the deep lines in his forehead, the stubble on his jaw. He looked tired.

She forced a small, closed smile and nodded. Not because she wanted to go—but because it was easier than explaining why she couldn’t. “They do have good carbonara,” she said, and stood up.

As they drove to the restaurant the radio playing in the background was the only sound filling the space. James pulled into a bay in front of the door and switched off the engine, turning to face her.

“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

Melanie didn’t want to, but she couldn’t let him down. Again.

“Let’s go,” she said, before she could change her mind.

“Alright, great,” he said with a smile. If James had noticed the wavering in her voice she couldn’t tell.

The bells dangling from the top of the door announced their arrival as the smell of tomatoes wafted through the air. Melanie’s stomach grumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate a proper meal. At the table, James chatted with the server as they gave him an overview of the menu, highlighting the daily specials. There was an ease in the way he carried himself and made conversation. People liked him. He smiled. Melanie’s head throbbed.

James scanned the menu. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure. Sorry, I sort of got lost when the server was explaining the specials.”

He smiled at her. “That’s okay. Let’s just get some carbonara. And you used to love the house red—remember the last time we were here? Our anniversary?”

“I remember.”

The server returned for their order. “Two carbonara, one house red and one sparkling water, please.” James hadn’t actually asked if Melanie wanted the carbonara and the red.

Melanie wiped at the smudge on her glass as they waited for the food, but it didn’t budge. James pretended to read the chalkboard on the wall. A couple at a table nearby erupted into laughter.

James looked at Melanie.

“I was thinking…”

He trailed off, and Melanie thought she could see tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He picked up his napkin but didn’t use it.

“Thinking what?”

James looked away and cleared his throat before looking back at her.

“I was thinking we could get away for a weekend. A change of scenery might be nice.”

The server set the carbonara down in front of them. Steam rose from the plates.

“Anything else I can get for you two?” She said, in an overly chipper tone as her eyes bounced between them.

“No, thank you,” James said with a polite smile. The server looked relieved as she practically ran away from the table.

A few silent moments passed as James tucked into his carbonara. Melanie stared at the pasta on her plate, pushing it around with her fork. She knew she should be hungry, but she’d lost her appetite. Her mind replayed James’ words, “I was thinking.” She knew he’d never say what he really meant.

“So, how’s the carbonara? As good as you remember it?” James asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Can we take this to go?”

James nodded and tried to hide his disappointment behind a smile. “Sure, let’s take it back home. You can finish it later.”

Outside, the crisp autumn air sent a chill through Melanie as one hand clenched the takeaway box and the other pulled the collar of her coat tighter.

“What do you say we take a walk before we go home? It’s a lovely night,” James said.

Melanie hesitated, but she had already let him down once tonight.

“A walk sounds good,” she lied.

As they walked down the pavement the sound of their footsteps was out of sync. James slowed, then sped up again, as if he was trying to find her rhythm but couldn’t quite get it right. Melanie focused her eyes straight ahead. She didn’t know what she’d say if he looked at her again with his sad eyes.

The street was quiet—just a soft breeze through the trees and an amber glow from the streetlights. A plastic bag had caught in a nearby fence and flapped weakly, over and over. When they reached the corner, James offered Melanie his arm. She hesitated, then brushed past him, close enough that their shoulders touched. He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

When they reached the house, James unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Melanie in first. She slipped off her shoes and padded down the hallway into the kitchen. She set the now cold takeaway box on the counter. The light was too bright. She squinted and turned to face James who was hovering in the doorway.

“Thanks for…” she hesitated. “The carbonara.”

James rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you want me to sit with you while you eat?”

Melanie paused. She still wasn’t hungry. Not really. Her eyes darted to the dog fur tumbleweed still on the floor. She stepped toward the cupboard and pulled out the broom and began to sweep.

When she looked up, James was still there. He smiled at her.

“Yeah,” she said. “That would be nice.”