He pops the lid open to see lettuce and two cherry tomatoes. That’s all there is. I didn’t have time to go to the store for more veggies. “This is it?”
“See, no one ate my lunch,” I say. Just as I’m reaching for it, but he pulls it back.
“This isit?”
“Yes,” I laugh out of frustration. “Now, give me my lunch and go to your meeting.”
“Lainie, there’s not enough food in here to feed a hamster.”
I roll my eyes and then put my fists on either hip. I feel like stomping my foot, but I refrain. He’s making me a little angry now. “Keeton Gustafson, Give. Me. My. Salad.”
Blinking at me he quickly hands it over, “Lainie, I’m sorry. I…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble stepping around him.
“I am worried about it. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
Turning to face him, I say, “Look. My ex-husband was always in my face about what I ate. I’d just like to be able to eat my food without your opinion on the matter, okay?”
“Sure. Okay. I’m sorry, babe.”
Wow, he’s singing a different tune now. Not so bossy now that I’ve said my piece. Dang, it’s refreshing. “Good. Now go to your meeting and let me get back to work.”
“Right. Sure. See you this afternoon.”
I walk back to my office clutching my Tupperware container with a death grip. I surprised myself with all of that back there. I never once told Lewis how I felt about his food-policing. He’d never listen, anyway. I became much more passive-aggressive with him. I like that I feel like I can say what’s on my mind with Keeton Gustafson. I like it a lot.
