She’s sitting cross legged with a plate of something balanced on her knee and a mug of tea on the floor beside her. “Tea, cheese, etc.” She nods towards the counter where there is a cutting board and a wedge of cheddar. Also, a packet of water biscuits. A glance at her plate confirms my suspicion.
“I might need a bit more than a few crackers, I’m a pig, don’t you know?”
Good, I’ve made her laugh again.
Digging around inside the fridge brings out a haphazard selection of food and leftovers. I put the teapot and all the foods on a tray and place it on the floor, too, then grab another cushion and a bottle of cider from the cupboard.
“I think I deserve more than tea after all the heroic work I did up there.”
“Not to mention your fast, naked run across the landing.”
She saw that? I wince. “Sorry.” Then I remember the half-stiffy and heat floods me.
“It’s okay I didn’t see anything.” Her voice is relaxed with no trace of innuendo so hopefully she’s telling the truth.
Then my inner caveman is humiliated and wants to know:
She didn’t see anything?I’m not that small.
Shut up!
But surely, I was...
Shut up!
I turn my back to her and unscrew the lid off the cider bottle.
I could be bigger than a cider bottle.
SHUT UP.
“Are you okay?” Lessa asks from behind me. Probably because I’d been standing still for a while.
“I just wondered if…” I hold up the bottle. “Do you mind if I…? Considering, you can’t drink?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve never been a fan of cider, even before…” She gestures at her still flat stomach.
“What did you like to drink before thepomegranate?”
“I like that you’ve totally adopted my terminology.”
Lessa has a great way with naming things, it’s much more fun than calling things by their usual names.
“How do you not fade away with the little you eat?” I glance at her small plate. I have already demolished half a loaf of bread, almost all the cheddar, a lot of ham and mustard, and the leftover potato salad.
“You don’t see how much I eat.”
“I do. You’ve yet to finish a meal, I’ve lost count of how many times you leave the table with your plate still half full.”
“True, but that’s because you only eat at mealtimes. You don’t see me go back and forth to the fridge all day. The best way to keep the nausea at bay is to keep snacking.”
“In that case.” I get up, go to the fridge, then the larder.
Lessa’s appetite is very hit and miss these days, and I’ve been doing my best to keep track, so I don’t accidentally trigger a frantic dash to the sink.
Black currant jam, orange curd, pesto, piccalilli, sunflower seeds, rice cakes, all of them things I’ve seen her like before. I put them on a tray along with all the cheeses I can find in the fridge.
“There.” I sit back down and place everything on the floor between us. “All your snacking needs.”
