Prompt #58
A Reckoning.
Emily sat at her kitchen table sipping daintily from a glass of red wine while she waited for her dinner. She watched the sun’s rays pool and shift from late afternoon to evening; orange and red pierced royal blue shot sparkles back at her from the kitchen window, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Her mood was as light as the sky was gorgeous and she heard herself laugh involuntarily.
Oh how I wish I could see his face right now. It would be the ultimate satisfaction; a type that would last for the rest of my days. Oh wow. She mused, seeing in her mind's eye a scene from her kitchen when Alex was still with her, before he’d run off with his boss's wife and left her. She sat back as the day dwindled and allowed her mind to wander into replay…
“This toast is way too soft! You know I like crisp toast, are you trying to irritate me?”
“Oh, let me put it back in the machine for you Al, it’ll only take a moment?”
“Just leave it, but try to remember, will you?” Alex glanced up from his car magazine to look at Emily for a moment. The sunlight slanting through the kitchen widow rested on her in a glow, and for once she looked rather pretty, her homeliness, masked by shiny blonde streaks in her hair. Her green eyes shone too, even though they protruded too much for his taste. He had to admit that she looked unusually appealing in the soft morning light.
Alex dismissed the idea of dislodging himself and giving her a sultry kiss, his spot at the kitchen table was just too comfortable. Emily might not be the great beauty of a woman he knew he should have, but she sure could cook. He didn’t want his scrumptious breakfast to go cold, so he decided to forgo a quick roll upstairs with her; she wasn’t much good, anyway.
He sighed and turned his attention back to his magazine, and there on the page spread out before him was the kind of girl he wanted, to say nothing of the open-top sports car the girl was draped over. His familiar daydream enfolded him in glorious warm imaginings. Oh, my, what a woman, what a car, what a life that would be…mmm. He ate his toast slowly, his mind alight with notions of splendour, sophistication and golden hours
Emily moved to fill Alex’s coffee cup. Holding the French Press lightly so it wouldn’t burn her. She knew better than to offer anything other than piping hot coffee. She spied the magazine and felt her heart squeeze.
“Fast cars, sexy girls and an unlimited line of credit, Alex, you’ve got that silly grin on your face again. Is that all you ever think about?” Emily shot out a rare criticism, and regretted it instantly when she saw the anger rise; his face mottled with his mood, she could almost see his blood boiling as color flooded his cheeks.
“Don’t spy on me, Emily. That’s a disgusting thing to do.” She let his scathing remark slide and went back to clean up. She didn’t want a fight and there was never a way to get the better of him, he always won.
He’d always won when he was around. Her dark reflection turned buoyant once more.
She giggled again, because he’d lost in so many other ways.
A ping from the oven told her that dinner was ready and roused her from her reverie. Alex had been such an idiot, his eyes were alway filled with fake dollar signs. He’d seduced a woman into leaving her husband all the while counting on a hearty divorce settlement and the man’s opulent home to live in. Silly fool. He should have realised that Michael, his ex-boss, could afford the best lawyers in town. What he achieved was unemployment and, of course, she had lost everything. Emily felt empathy rise for the poor woman, she knew all about Alex and the way he could turn on the charm when he felt like it.
On a whim, Emily fetched one of the magazines Alex had so wantonly poured over when he’d sat at her table in the sad, sad past. She moved her wine glass to accommodate her steaming plate, the glossy pages and her lottery ticket. She couldn’t help imagining how mad Alex would be when he found out about her win.
She grinned again determined to savor the feeling of winning the grand jackpot under the silvery moonlight of possibility now spilling over her peaceful kitchen table.