A Grimm Companionship

2.

You come the next day and she is at the door, waiting for you.

At your arrival, she grins, and holds in her hands a large glass dish of pasta. It’s not particularly well plated. You suppose she is not a good cook.

“Good evening!” She chirps, “Come in, come in! I hope you’re hungry!”

She’s set the table for two, pulled together a rather garish tablecloth. She’s cleaned the kitchen too, and opened the windows.

There are bandages wrapped around her wrists.

You eat together. The lasagne tastes like cardboard to you, but you find the girl enjoys it, and then suppose lasagne, among many things, is a pleasure of the living.

“Do you like it?” she asks, expectant.

“It’s lovely,” you lie, “Excellent.”

“Oh that’s wonderful to hear! My wife taught me the recipe. She was half italian, you see. Most beautiful woman I ever saw. And gentle too, she always treated me kindly, even when I was a handful.” She stops eating. Her eyes turn glassy and distant as she speaks.

“She passed away a few months ago.”

Her voice breaks as she talks. She looks down at her plate and is still for a moment.

“Maybe you met her,” she continues, “Her name was Zoe. She had lovely green eyes and a beautiful smile.”

“Oh yes. I believe I might have met her.” That’s a lie. There are many Zoe’s you have met, there are many lovely green eyes women. But you cannot bear to break Louise Northfield’s heart. So you lie, and she smiles.

“Is she in a nicer place now?’

“I’m sure she’s at peace.”

She smiles again, relief in her eyes, and she whispers, “I suppose i’ll be seeing her soon, won’t I?”

It’s so peculiar, but you feel a strange empathy, an empathy you have rarely known, as you look into the face of a woman who offered death itself a diner and a clean place to sit, a woman kinder than any you have ever known, you can’t bring yourself to let her go.

You can’t you can’t you can’t. Why can’t you?

You stand and push the plate to the side.

“That was a delicious meal Louise. Thank you. I’ll come again a different time.”

“Oh no, please don’t go! It’s been so long since I had a guest.”

You look outside the window. There’s a little house with the windows glowing warmly adjacent to Louie’s home. You see the figure of a woman at a dinner table. She is alone.

Louise’s eyes follow yours and she looks back at you.

“Perhaps you should extend this dinner invitation,” You tell her, “I must be off now.”

You leave, but you keep looking back.