My alarm rings and I wake up to turn it off. My phone tells me it’s 8am, I’ve slept for 3 hours but strangely, I don’t feel tired. I turn to my side and see Gideon there, fast asleep, facing me. His hand is close to my side of the bed and I imagine that we were holding hands while sleeping. For a moment, while I watch him sleep, I smile to myself.
Then, the memories all come crashing in again. Like lighting bolts, they flash through my mind, only staying for a split second before tearing apart again. I can’t seem to catch a hold of them but something tells me that these memories weren’t part of my dreams – they really happened.
I leave our bed and go outside to feed the cats. Surprisingly, neither Coco nor Peanut have woken up. By now, they would usually be mewing away, demanding for their breakfast.
After I put their food and water bowls down, I take stock of the living room. There are 4 glasses lying around, 3 on the coffee tables and 1 on the bar counter-top.
“It happened. It really happened.” I thought to myself.
My right hand was on my right hip and my left hand’s fingers were combing through my hair. This is the stance I get into whenever I’m thinking of what to do next.
What is there to do? I gather the glasses and take them to the kitchen. But before I turned the tap on, I closed the doors separating the living room and the kitchen, afraid to wake Gideon up.
I’m not hungry, but after I leave the dishes to dry, I open the fridge out of habit. The fridge has always been my favorite place in our house – after the bar of course. It’s where I get to keep ingredients, ingredients to make food for people I love.
By now, I’m not even thinking anymore, I let my hands and feet take me where ever they want. I’m only an observer.
I watch myself take tomatoes, mushrooms, half an onion, eggs and an overly ripe avocado and I immediately know what I’m making – our regular breakfast item. I started cutting up the tomatoes and onion, adding olive oil, salt, paper and then setting the pan on to fry the eggs. I like mine sunny side up while Gideon likes his scrambled.
Once the eggs were done, I sliced open the avocado, made tiny slits through the flesh and used a spoon to scoop the sliced up avocado out and onto the plate. I’m almost done, and I actually feel pretty happy. Preparing that breakfast was relaxing, it let me take my mind off things for just a bit.
As i take the 2 plates out to the coffee table, I hear the toasted bread ping! ready so I open the sliding door.
Just as I emerged into the “neutral zone”, Gideon opened the bedroom door and we catch each others’ eyes.
“Come, let’s eat.” I said.
He’s wearing his grey sleeveless shirt, the one we had bought together while shopping in Kuala Lumpur together.
I force that memory out of my mind, and pour us both cups of coffee.
As we sit on the living room floor, side by side, eating breakfast, I made a mental note to myself that this was the last time I would ever make breakfast for my husband.
This was the last time I would ever put my love into food for someone who has chosen not to love me back.