Short Stories

7. Not Margherita

She always lost the match.

Siddhi turned around to face Rishi's back.

"Are you awake? I am hungry." Her voice echoed slightly in the nearly empty room. They had moved in just yesterday, and the furnitures were yet to come, all there was were a couple of pillows, and a sheet on which they were currently lying.

Rishi didn't turn.

"I've ordered for a pizza. I know you are always hungry after a fight," she continued.

Rishi turned to lie on his back, facing the ceiling. But his eyes still closed shut.

"Which one?" he asked after a long beat of silence.

"The one we had just about an hour ago."

"No, which one did you order? Which pizza?" he asked, frowning

"Oh. Dominos. Not Margherita," Siddhi replied, saying 'not' so quietly, that he nearly didn't hear her.

"Which one?"

"Sweet corn. With Pepsi," she replied, reluctantly.

Another long silence.

He opened his eyes slowly. And that was enough indication for her. She prepared herself. Not again. Not again was she going to let him win.

"Why didn't you—" he started

"Why is it that you always choose—" she interrupted

"This is not about—"

"Yes it is."

"Sweet corn?" he asked incredulously

"So what?"

"You know—"

"You know I like it, but you always—"

"Sweet corn?" Rishi repeated

"So what?" Siddhi said, her voice rising

They were sitting upright now. Glaring at each other.

She took a deep breath and said, slowly, evenly, "Listen. No—listen, okay? I was the one who thought about ordering first. I thought you'd be hungry, so I chose large size. Enough for both of us."

"But you know. You know I don't like Sweet Corn. I simply don't. And yet you ordered it. On purpose," Rishi said. In any other situation, Siddhi would have thought he looked cute,  dimples in his cheeks, hair tousled. In any situation but this, that is.

"You never care whether I like Margherita or not. Why do we always have to buy that? Don't you ever get bored eating that—that boring slice of crust and cheese? It has nothing else on it!"

"Are you calling me boring?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Yes. Yes, I think, I am," she replied coolly.

Yet another long silence, where they continued to glare, trying to intimidate the other into backing out. One supported Sweet Corn the other supported Margherita.

It was a tough decision. It could make the fight turn ugly.

That was until Rishi, bless his heart, decided to snap his fingers in front of her eyes, which made her blink.

A shorter silence. A hundred times lighter.

"Fine," she huffed

He made a triumphant gesture.

"Fine," she repeated, "We're not going to order Sweet Corn."

"That's my girl." He grinned as he tried to take her phone to cancel the order.

"We're going to cancel Dominos," she continued, pushing Rishi's hand away from her phone. "We're ordering a burger. Three, actually. One for you, two for me. McDonalds. Which one do you want?"

He sighed. Stubborn, he thought. "Khebab. That small one. Two for me."

"Mine is a khebab and a Veggie something-or-the-other," she muttered, frowning at the screen.

"I am paying," Rishi said, as he flipped his pillow. The other side was too sweaty.

"No you are not. I am. I ordered. I pay," she corrected.

"As you wish." Rishi kicked away the blanket and stood up to get a glass of water.

"Can I repay your—what was the word—thoughtfulness?" he asked a while later.

Rishi was still in the kitchen with a glass, water dripping off his chin. Siddhi was lying still. She waited for him to sit down on the hard floor and pull on the blankets over his legs before answering.

"You can, surprisingly." 

"Hmm?"

"Just answer the door and wake me up when the order is here."

She heard him groan, but knew, without looking, that he was smiling.

She won.

~*~*~*~04 November 2021~*~*~*~

Hello, ya'll. In case anybody noticed, I had already published this one-shot as an independent book on August 14. But then I saw some books acting as a collection of short stories, so I made one myself, and published my other short stories. I didn't have the heart to unpublish the older version of Not Margherita, not when I had sweated out so to make its cover (let's pretend it was good, even though it very obviously wasn't).

Not to mention, I had submitted the independent Not Margherita in a contest. But I messed up the form, and by the time I realised my mistake and re-filled the form, the slots were filled :(  Oh well. (sometimes, I really wonder why it must always sound like 'Oval').

I have uploaded the picture of my independent Not Margherita's cover. You are free to judge.