I can feel her eyes on me as I poke at the food and bring it up to my mouth. I take the first bite and chew, then I realize that it can only be described as …
“This food is atrocious,” I say in a grimace, once I finish chewing.
Maybe I should have let her interrupt me a few more times to save me from this torture. Who messes up pasta? How is that even possible? Did she even taste this while she was making it? It tastes like someone dumped a whole pot of salt and acid into this.
Her mouth is agape and her face positively red. “You're not even gonna pretend to like it?!”
“Why would I do that?”
I'm not going to lie to Juliette. This girl probably has access to the best chefs in the world, so there is no excuse for this food.
“Fine, give it back,” she says in an angry huff, trying to reach over the table and take my plate, but I keep my grip on it.
“No, I'm still gonna eat it,” I tell her, yanking it away from her reach.
She looks baffled at my words until I begin stabbing at the pieces of pasta and eating it—quickly—trying to swallow down the downright awful taste.
“What? Why?” she questions and I look back up at her. She looks confused and annoyed, but also curious.
I wait till after I've swallowed more of this poison, before I answer her. “I don't waste food.”
“Why?” She asks curiously, still not even touching her own food. She clearly trusted my words when I said it was bad.
I give her a deadpan look. “Didn't I just tell you not to ask me anything else?”
“When have I ever listened to you?” She continues staring at me like a little brat, not budging. I could just ignore her and finish the food. However, I can't help my mouth, which seems to keep opening up more and more around Juliette.
I sigh deeply, once again leaving my fork in the plate. “When I was growing up, there were days where I couldn't afford anything to eat. Back then, I would have killed to consume anything at all…so now, when I get food, Ican'twaste it.”
I see her eyes soften and pity enters her gaze once again. I have to avert my eyes from her, not liking how vulnerable I feel right now.
More importantly, not liking how fine I seem to be with being vulnerable around Juliette.
I still vividly remember those days. My father was on universal credit as he was too drunk to work. Even that money was barely enough for the bills or house.
Both Adam and I were only kids, but he was old enough to work and dropped out to work at several garages, still the money wasn’t the best. Adam and I would stretch the food for days at a time. Then once he left, I had to start surviving on my own.
It wasn’t until I started working at Miss Kim’s that I started getting meals regularly—because she had no idea how bad things were at my house.
It could have been worse for us, but regardless, I don't waste food, not just because of what I went through, but because I know some people have nothing at all. It's just not mentally possible for me to take anything for granted like that.
It might be unhealthy, but that's just me.
“This really is atrocious.” Juliette's voice snaps me out of my inner turmoil.
I look up and I'm met with the sight of Juliette eating her pasta. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her nose scrunched and her mouth full. She looks absolutely disgusted.
“What are you doing?” I question, bewildered.
She just shrugs, her eyes still plastered on her plate. “I'm not gonna make you eat by yourself.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Is this girl really my enemy? If she is, why do I feel like someone has reached inside of my chest and is squeezing my heart?
Here Juliette sits, shovelling her mouth with pasta as fast as she can, so she doesn't have to linger on the taste. I sit there and watch her and reflexively begin eating again—but I'm slow. Unlike her, I'm actually lingering on the taste.
Somehow, it doesn't taste that bad anymore, not while I watch her; not when her eyes narrow in disgust while her mouth is full.
