Save My Soul

The Dinner [3]

3.

I stand on the Matthews' front porch, shifting my weight from foot to foot, rolling my bottom lip under my teeth. Nervousness flutters through my stomach. Before I can change my mind, I lift my hand and knock quietly on the large, wooden door. When there's no reply, I press hesitantly on the doorbell.

It swings open just a few seconds later.

"Hi Elizabeth!" Lillian's huge smile of greeting briefly stuns me for a minute; then she pulls me to her, wrapping me in a quick, soft hug. I hesitantly hug her back, my face squished into her shoulder. She smells like flowers. "I'm so glad you came!"

"Hi, Mrs. Matthews– "

"Oh, call me Lillian, silly," she says, pulling back; her eyes sparkle with happiness and mild reproof - I can't help wondering why she seems so overjoyed that I came. "Now, quick, in you get! It's freezing out here." 

I can't help smiling as she ushers me in. I look around half-shyly, half curiously as she pulls my coat from my shoulders.

The house doesn't look at all like mine, though the lay-out is similar. The front door opens into an open-walled living room, and just beyond, through a wide arch, is the dining room and the kitchen, side by side. To my right is a staircase, leading to the second floor. The walls are painted burnt orange and the floors are wood. Even though it's obvious Mrs. Matthews- Lillian- hasn't finished decorating, it's amazing how polished it looks already. The couches are matching cream futons, and the shelves are made of dark wicker. There's a rocking chair in one corner and a wicker bookshelf next to it with a box of books on top.  There are no pictures or photographs hanging on the walls yet and there are still a few boxes stacked to the side, next to an open door right off the kitchen- out of which, the quiet strains of television can be heard. I assume it's the den.

"I want to apologize in advance, by the way: we got a lot of the stuff unpacked but it's still a bit of a mess," Lillian says, hanging my coat in a small closet on my left.

"No, it's beautiful." I notice for the first time the absolutely heavenly smells filling the house and I try to discreetly inhale without drawing Lillian's attention. What is that? Garlic, bread... my mouth is watering. Some sort of fish?

"Isn't it? I was so glad we could get it on such short notice – and it's perfect, because I always wanted a house where the kitchen, dining room and living room are all open. Feels like it suits a family better. Well, come on. I'll show you around," she smiles at me and beckons me to follow. I do, but I can't help how my eyes stray to the kitchen. It smells incredible! My stomach growls quietly and I quickly turn red – but thankfully, Lillian hasn't noticed.

"Let me just check the fish first, I can't let it burn," she says over her shoulder, heading straight towards the source of the mouth-watering scents filling my nose. I follow hesitantly. The kitchen is bright, lit by a glass chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, and is several shades of cream and dark brown. The counters are marble and the sink is so silver, it shines. I think of the kitchen at home, with the cracked counter-top and dilapidated refrigerator and I sigh softly. The house looks like it came straight out of a magazine. And Lillian completes the picture, in her silky beige dress pants and black sweater set, with her lustrous, thick hair pinned up top. She's tying an apron on and she gives me a quick smile.

"I hope you like fish... I decided to do poached ginger salmon steaks," she pauses, as if to make sure she got it right and then nods. "Along with Italian dinner rolls and mashed potatoes... that sound good?"

"Yes... where did you learn how to cook like that?" I can't help blurting out as she shows me a pan of the most incredible looking salmon.

She laughs. "Oh, I went to chef school before I got married to Jim. I always loved cooking when I was younger... I was even going to move to New York and open my own restaurant but then I met him and-" she shrugs but there's no tone of regret in her voice, not a shade of remorse in her expression. "When he proposed... well, I'd have gone to Mars with him."