me I didn’t have that in me either. Too much work, he’d said, for a woman who flits around the garden all day.
I hugged my best friend hard, and then, with a smile and a wave, she was gone.
I took a deep breath and checked my watch. Dwayne would be home soon enough, I realized. I’d best start preparing dinner. I turned on the TV for company. Most of the channels had gone dark weeks ago, but CNN was still running with a limited staff of die-hards who said they’d report to the bitter end.
“More and more people keep coming here to Central Park, joining the thousands who’ve been camping and singing songs,” a reporter stationed in New York City said. “It’s a lot different from the reports we’ve been hearing out of Seattle and L.A., where the riots are ongoing.”
The camera switched back to the blond anchor. “Thanks for that report, Mark. In other news, a warden in Oregon released his prisoners this morning after ninety-nine percent of state employees, including prison guards, failed to report to work, leaving the prisons with no way to supervise or provide food to the inmates. This is the third such report we’ve had this week, following releases in Georgia and West Virginia. All three wardens said it would be inhumane to house prisoners under such conditions.”
Outside, the shutters started slapping against the house, and the wind began to whistle. They’d said the weather would continue to worsen as the end grew near. I pushed aside the white curtains covering the window over the sink. The sky was growing darker still. I fretted for a few seconds, then pulled myself together. This was no time to go to pieces. I had work to do.
* * * *
A couple hours later the vegetables were picked, washed, and chopped, the potatoes were peeled, and the steaks were tenderized and ready to go. I stood at the window, glancing at the road as I finished making a cucumber salad using the last of my crop. Then, behind me, I heard the back screen door bang against the frame. My breath caught.
“That’s what I like to see.” Dwayne’s words ran into one another. “My little woman cooking for me, even today.”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. He must have stumbled in from over the hill out back. I began turning, but Dwayne crossed the room quicker than I expected and squeezed me from behind, rubbing his hands over my chest, and grinding his pelvis into the back of my dress.
“You smell nice,” he said.
“And you smell like a brewery.” I wrenched away from him and turned. “You said you were going to spend today fishing. Looks like you spent it at Gus’s instead.”
Dwayne’s brown eyes narrowed. I shouldn’t have said that, especially not with that tone. Complaints like that usually pissed Dwayne off and made him come after me. But I couldn’t help myself. This was going to be our last night together, yet he came home with the lingering stench of that swill Gus brewed. Did Dwayne actually think I’d want to spend my last hours on this earth having sex with him when he smelled like he’d fallen into a vat of rancid beer? Oh, who was I kidding? Dwayne never cared what I wanted.
“Why’s everything always a fight with you?”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the bedroom. I was thankful it would be the last time I’d have to put up with him. I just hoped he’d be quick as always.
* * * *
“Jesus. Aren’t those steaks done yet? I’m hungry.”
Dwayne had finished his afternoon delight pretty quick and fallen asleep. Now, after an hour’s nap, he’d parked himself at the kitchen table and was two beers into his last six-pack.
“Don’t you like the salad?”
He pushed the plate away. A cherry tomato rolled onto the floor. “What’s the point of eating healthy anymore? We’re all gonna die tonight anyway.”
He had a point there. My frying pan sizzled as I sprinkled minced garlic over the mushrooms. The savory fragrance wafted around me. “Dinner’s almost ready, and I made a nice peach pie for dessert with extra sugar on top.”
Dwayne grunted. Given that this was his last meal, I’d wanted to make a dessert he’d tuck into with fervor, so I’d chosen peach filling—his favorite—and added the sugar to make it especially enticing.
“I was talking with Jenny today,” I said, adding evaporated milk to the potatoes. “She reminded me how much I like cooking for people. I should have opened that bakery when I had the chance.”
Now Dwayne snorted. “Not that crap again, Violet. You’d never have been able to pull something like that off. You don’t have it in you.”
I growled under my breath as I began to beat the potatoes. How many times had I let him discourage me with those demeaning words? The back screen door slammed against its frame again, but it was only the wind. It had really picked up. I blew out a deep breath. Just a few hours left. At least I wouldn’t have to listen to Dwayne’s put-downs anymore.
I dished the mashed potatoes onto our plates, then the steaks, my large frying pan sputtering as I pulled it off the stove for the last time. Then I poured the garlic and mushrooms on top of Dwayne’s steak. I’d never cared for mushrooms, but he enjoyed them.
“Here you go.” I set the plates down on the table and settled into my chair, facing Dwayne. Behind him, the back door rattled. The sky looked black and daunting through the door’s window, but the warm yellow porch light gave me comfort.
Dwayne picked up his knife and fork and dug in.
“I flipped through some photo albums today,” I said. “You remember how much fun our wedding was?”
I got no response other than slurping and chewing noises. You’d think given that it was his last meal, Dwayne would savor the food, but he was shoveling it in.
So I gave up on conversation and sipped my sweet tea between forkfuls of salad, steak, and mashed potatoes. How Larry had loved Mama’s potatoes. He always ate ravenously, too, but at least he told good stories between bites, like the one about the boy who grew up near us who loved to wander the countryside. He came home one day with real bad stomach cramps. Thank goodness his family rushed him to the hospital. Turned out he’d eaten some poisonous mushrooms. You’ve got to be real careful about what you pick in the woods.
Soon enough, Dwayne practically licked his plate clean. He popped open another beer and said, “Where’s that dessert you promised?”
I still had half my dinner remaining, but why should that matter to him? I got up from the table to serve his highness. I sliced an extra large piece of the peach pie and brought it to Dwayne. “Bon appétit.”
I sat back down and decided to make another stab at conversation. “My garden has really come in handy these last couple months. We haven’t had to worry about food, unlike some city folks I’ve seen on the news. Even tonight, with our last meal, everything’s fresh.”
“Another reason why it’s good to live in the country,” Dwayne said while chewing. Then he set down his fork and touched his stomach.
“Everything okay?” I took another bite of my potatoes. They had come out just right.
“A little indigestion. Guess I ate too fast.”
“Well
