“I told Paul last night, ‘I can’t sleep your sleep, think your thoughts, or eat your food. Marriage is such an impossible state of being. It demands a oneness when all you really want is to be left alone.'” Sabrina said this as she sipped her champagne cocktail. We were having brunch outdoors in her favorite restaurant. She had called me and said she needed to talk. Sabrina rarely did anything unless there was food involved. The last time we met, it was for dinner in a new bistro. She needed an excuse to eat and talk.
“So how did Paul respond?” I asked. I poured some Pelegrino into my glass.
“Not well. He said I sounded like I wanted out of the marriage, which wasn’t what I meant at all, I was just voicing an insight I had, and needed to get it out in the open,” she said.
“And you explained that to Paul,” I said.
“Oh yes, but it left him with the doubt. Now he’s brooding over the whole incident.”
The waiter arrived with our salads and french fries and placed them in front of us. “Will that be all?” he said.
“Bring me a steak. Very rare,” she said. Then she turned to me and said, “I need to chew on some flesh. I feel angry. Every time I try to be real with Paul it backfires. I end up feeling guilty. Then I wish I never opened my mouth.”
I pierced a cherry tomato and it squirted onto my blouse. I rubbed the stain with my napkin. That smudged it even more and turned it pink. At least it matched my lipstick and earrings.
“Give Paul a few days. He’ll come out of it,” I said.
“Maybe. I swear, I’m not going to expose what I’m thinking to him any more. He clearly can’t handle it,” Sabrina said.
The waiter arrived with a very large steak on a white plate and put it down in front of her. “Will that be all?” he said.
Sabrina waved him off and dug in. Blood oozed out in all directions. She cut the entire thing into bite size pieces and then put her knife and fork down.
“That was better than therapy,” she said finishing off her drink. “Let’s get out of here.”