I've been bad and have been avoiding the origin story. I started it, but currently the background of my world is still in progress. So here's a short story that's a moment between two characters. *hopefully*-Kristian
I Blame The Toast
What was to be said of it? Nothing. Nothing was the state of avoiding, where I let the waves of frustration and anger flow over me, as I entered the void of just being. The images of what I would say, how my body would move seemed so real that I could imagine my nails digging into my palms. But after each discovery I never felt the gratifying pain.
What was to be said? Everything. But everything would cause change, and change would be uncomfortable.
So I moved around the annoyance, brushing off the chip of steam that rose within me. The gifts just large enough to be noticed and small enough for Jem to forget to hide. The need to scream grew within me like a kettle but I swallowed the unsaid words.
But I was always alone, never with anyone for the steam to be directed towards. It was always an item, or a note. Something small.
Until today.
He did it.
The toast was in the oven instead of the toaster. We had a toaster for a reason. I stepped into the kitchen, the tension heavy on my tongue and a veil across my body.
The steam was rising. He had on the watch she bought for him, including the shoes that he bought after receiving her money.
“So. The toaster wasn’t good enough?” I said.
Jem looked up,the rush of oven heat reddening his cheeks. A slow smirk spread on his face, and his green eyes moved from my face down past my sweatshirt, yoga pants, and finally my shoes. I was wearing everything that I had bought myself thank you very much.
He brushed his black hair from his face. “I tried this at a place and I liked the flavor better.”
I tapped my nails on the counter, tap tap tap. Tap for his ‘place’. Tap for liking the freaking flavor better there. Tap for him not knowing that I knew he was having an affair..
“Oh, the flavor was better,” I said.
He smiled, nodding. He caught my eyes and then squinted for a second before the smile disappeared and turned into a frown. Frowns looked like bad photoshop on him.
He moved past me, and retrieved a plate.
“Yes, the flavor was much better, so I thought I’d try it here,” he said.”What’s wrong?”
I moved to the opposite side of the counter, grabbed my coffee, and sat down in my chair. I combed my fingers through my thick hair, staring at the black refrigerator that clanked from making ice, and the first picture we’d snapped of each other at New Years years ago. She had been there then.
“Well, I don’t know Jem. Maybe use the equipment we bought to use,” I snapped. “We bought a toaster for toast, just as we brought an oven to---”
“Stop. I wanted to experiment and see if the toast would taste better,” he calmly cut me off.
His fingers touched the toast, the butter bright and yellow and greasy. The edges were a golden brown. Jem took a bite and smiled. “Tastes just like I knew it would.”
I pulled a handful of grapes and smashed them into my mouth. They tasted sour, but I didn’t let it show.
“You’re off today,” I said.
Jem looked at me and began to nod but stopped. “Ye-no. No I am not. I must work to bring honor to the family.”
He laughed. A loud belly laugh while also waving around the second piece of toast. I wanted to trip him to wipe the smirk off of his face. Honor to the family? Were we in Disney now?
“Whatever.” I said, and got up.
Jem ate the second piece of toast with loud chompy chewing. The worst liars were the ones who thought they had everyone fooled. And Jem fit that well.
She and I looked completely different. I was tall, with a bush of black hair and moderate sized body. My eyes were hazel with flecks of grey. Jem said that I was caught up in my head, and only spoke when words needed spoken. We were barely out of college and he couldn’t control himself already. She was in our friend circle. Her, with a sweet smile, slim body and humor that would rival a comedian. And she had baked me cookies. The nerve.
I turned to him, slamming my cup into the sink. “I know.”
