Unto Shadows

vi. spaghetti & dark circles

Spaghetti & Dark Circles

MY EYES WIDENED as I rushed over to the window and looked out. I sighed in relief at the lack of a bloodied and broken body littering the pavement. Revenant wasn't anywhere in sight. The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled me out of my daze and I jumped back to my bed, quickly gathering my books together to make it appear like I was putting them away.

There was a light rap on the door before the familiar blonde head of hair poked itself in. "You ready?"

I nodded as he stepped in. "Yeah, just a second."

Heath slowed to a stop beside me and watched as I dropped the books on my desk. "Are you okay? You look really stressed."

I am. "I'm starving."

Heath grinned. "Well, I got that taste I wanted and it was pretty damn good." His hands soon found their way to the papers scattered across my bed. He stacked them into a neat pile and sat them down on my Introduction to Calculus book, the top of the stack of books, before turning back to face me. "You ready to go?"

      I nodded, already starting for the door in the hopes that there wasn't any leftover evidence of Revenant's visit. Based on my lack of self control the last time Heath asked me about him, I figured it best to just ignore the situation entirely when he was around. I couldn't risk another slip up.

      The journey down the stairs consisted entirely of my stomach growling at the strong smell of my mother's spaghetti. It was probably one of my favorite meals that she made. The first time I could remember her making it, I was seven. She'd had little to no experience cooking big meals—that was more or less my Dad's specialty—but decided it was time to try something new. The three of us had spent hours on the couch flipping through various cook books, trying to find some abnormal meal that we figured we'd all like, but came up short. She was adamant not to make anything simple, so by the time we realized we needed to just give up and find something easy, a thought occurred to my dad.

He'd smiled like he just won the lottery and said, "I know what you can cook."

Mom's eyes lit up and her attention shot to her husband. The book in her hands gently shut as she watched him with hopeful, excited eyes. "You do?"

He'd nodded and stood excitedly. We followed him quickly as he rushed into the kitchen and opened the cabinets to pull out the ingredients. Mom had immediately argued when he suggested spaghetti. She'd said it was too simple, that they were trying to find something new and spontaneous for us to try. She eventually gave up the argument and agreed happy when we realized spaghetti was the one thing my dad couldn't make taste amazing. A few extra ingredients here and there and it became a pretty famous meal for the neighbors and visitors, everybody wanting to know my mom's 'secret recipe'. From that day on, it became a tradition to eat spaghetti on Fridays, or whenever we had company.

      I swallowed the lump in my throat at the memory as I entered the kitchen, Heath a few steps behind me. Every Friday turned to every other Friday, then every third, and less and less until it became an occasional meal. The neighbors gradually stopped visiting and Heath eventually became the only visitor we received anymore.

      "Are you two starving?" Mom asked, when she noticed our entry. She turned to us with a hopeful smile, two plates in hand.