It went with the eggs she made . . !



THE fight had started the night before, and now the next morning, like two animals wary of each other, they went about their morning chores. It had started at a friend’s place, a party… “You drink too much,” she had said. “Just two,” he had replied, winking at his friend. “Two what?” she’d snapped. “Two patiala’s, two bottles, two tankers?”

He had kept quiet, but the host knew that there was a fire simmering between them, and that there would soon be a blow up. They had driven home in silence, so unusual for a couple who loved chatting away after a party. For the first time after years, they slept on opposite sides of the bed, he facing the east, she the west.

Even their blankets kept away from each other. He now looked out of the window, at the outside world, and saw men and women moving about in gay abandon. “Freedom!” he sighed, “that’s what I need again. Freedom to do what I want!”

She moved in her kitchen like a zombie, she had hardly slept last night, and had tossed and turned, and seethed with anger at the cold callousness of her mate. She had hated the snores that resounded from his side of the bed, each snore telling her that he couldn’t care less as to how she felt. Now she looked at his back as he stared out of the window, and hated him for his very indifference.

He turned to her, with his tie still unknotted, normally she came and helped him, babying him and rubbing her hands on his smooth shaven skin, but suddenly she was busy, her head bent low over the flame, concentrating on everything except her man…

She broke the eggs and poured them onto the pan. For a moment, she wanted to burn them for him. She wanted to see his anger, feel his reaction, when he looked at two pieces of burnt ember’s …but…she slowly poured the yolk and whites into the pan, and with a wooden ladle lifted them gently, so that they would not be burnt. He felt the eggs being placed before him, at the table. He looked down and saw their sunny sides up, smiling up at him. They were well fried, and made the way he loved them. He pushed the fork into the middle and scoped up a piece as he bit into the bread. He smiled, “Lovely,” he said, “thanks.”

She saw his head lowered, she felt his smile, and her heart gushed with love. She rushed across and held the head she loved, and lowering her face into his hair, she cried. She loved her man. “What happened to our fight?” she asked later that night with a smile as they lay ready to go to bed, she leaning against him, “How did we become friends again?” He looked at her, his eyes filled with love, “It went with the eggs you made..!”