A Bone, Picked
“So, go on, spill. Give me all the sordid details.”
Greg took a deep breath, directing his attention at his friend. “I’m dying to know how your date went with Steve.” Greg had a mischievous grin on his face as he settled himself on Gina’s sofa to hear all. But, one look at his friend's face made him cringe, his curiosity was obviously unwelcome. A black look descended over Gina’s usually genial features.
“Nothing to tell.” Gina folded her arms over her chest. Her body language, a clear indication of her unwillingness to be drawn out.
“But, he’s so perfect for you in every way.” Greg couldn’t help himself, despite his own feelings, he had to state the facts as he saw them.
Gina tensed. She turned away. Greg tried to hold his tongue.
“Wine?” Greg brightened. Pushing himself out of his comfort zone to do the honours.
“Always!” Gina laughed, lightening the mood. “The neighbourhood is so quiet tonight, remarkably quiet.”
“No sirens, you’re right. Crickets, buzzing, but no crime.” Greg pulled the cork, “Tadaaa. Wine,” he added. He picked up two glasses and carried them by their stems back to the couch. He tried to gauge his friend’s mood. Gina was such a beauty; the eyes, the hair, the porcelain skin. She was usually so much fun to be with, too.
“What?” Gina rolled her eyes, aware of her friend’s scrutiny.
She looked so golden under the glow of the low lights.
“I was just thinking that it’s such a pleasure not to have to check the label on the bottle to see if the wine’s vegan.”
“Liar.” Gina grinned, taking a glass and swirling the contents under her perfect nose.
Greg gave himself a virtual pat on the back for getting her to laugh. “That’s more like it. Sulking doesn’t suit you one bit.” This got a proper laugh out of her and he felt a grin pull at the sides of his mouth, too.
Funny, he thought, how little it takes for us to feel good together.
“You always manage to get me to confess. You are dreadful, you know?” She added playfully.
“What have I done now?” Greg took a huge sip of his wine in an attempt to hide his delight.
“It was the wishbone,” she said between sips. Her expression, suddenly deadly serious. “How can anyone think that a bone taken from a beautiful bird, in the prime of its life, by force, could ever be lucky? How?” Gina was on a roll. Greg watched her passion rise to colour her cheeks, pink. “How did this stupid tradition start, anyway? We teach our children barbaric things. Lord, think about it. First we murder the bird, then we cook it up so that it’s really juicy. But that’s not enough. When we’re done, we take the poor thing’s bone and play a wishing game with it. It’s horrific.”
Greg stared at her, speechless for once. “But you eat meat. Why the sudden pontification? I know that you only keep vegan wine because I pop over from next door so often. Your kitchen is full of barbarism. You’ve got no room to talk, my beautiful friend.”
“It was the bone. You know, the damn bone. Steve and I.. I mean…we had chicken and things were going great, and we were chatting and enjoying, and then we were drinking and then he finished his dinner and then he held up the bone. He said make a wish, and I felt absolutely ill. Devastated, really, and all I could see was your sweet face, and I got up, snatched my bag and called an Uber. Obviously, I haven’t heard from him since. And I doubt if I’ll ever be able to eat anything other than plants from now on. Just like you.”
Greg felt the weight of the silence that Gina’s outburst had thrown into the room. His heart thudded in his chest and he was certain that she would be able to hear it.
That she would know.
“Can you hear my heart?” Gina said.
Hoping that he would know.
She rose from her chair, leaving her wine behind, and went to sit next to him.
The air reverberated, it sparked and all they could hear was the beat of their hearts.