A flurry of Serbian came from the kitchen, presumably from Diana, and Baba’s body went slack. She looked you over again, slowly lowering the bat in the process. Then she muttered something guttural and walked into the kitchen, where she started taking food out of the fridge like nothing had just happened. Your heart was still thumping in your throat as you entered the eat-in kitchen with peeling seventies linoleum and a two-burner stove.
“He doesn’t need to eat, Baba,” said Diana. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Men are always hungry,” she said, dumping things out of yogurt containers onto a plate. “Always.”
Diana, wearing a ripped tank top and a pair of overlarge sweatpants, just shrugged. Baba stuck a plate in the microwave, and before she closed the door, she pointed to things on the plate.
“Sarmas. Gibanica. Pljeskavica andcevapi. You like it?”
“Sure,” you said. “And it’s, um… really nice to meet you. Sorry for the intrusion.”
She nodded once and then walked out of the room, still clutching her bat. She shot one last comment at Diana, who firedback a barb of her own. Then it was just you and Diana, and the smell of gradually heating food in a cramped kitchen.
“What did you say to her?” you asked. “About me?”
“I said you had no sense of decency and always show up unannounced. But that you are a fragile man and you need our help.”
“Cool. Appreciate it.”
“No problem,” she said, drying a cup still wet from the washer.
You weren’t sure where your body should be, so you just hovered behind her for a moment before finally sitting in a ladder-back chair.
“Why don’t you ever have people over?” you said.
She grabbed a handful of silverware and shoved it in an open drawer.
“Perhaps you didn’t notice that my grandmother just considered murdering you with a bat.”
As if on cue, the microwave dinged and Diana brought the plate over to you and slapped it down.
“It’s no Perkins,” she said. “But Baba does make everything from scratch.”
It smelled like cabbage and pepper and paprika, and ordinarily it would have been fun to try new foods, but you couldn’t even pick up the fork.
“Despite being a man,” you said, “I’m not really hungry. Do you need any help?”
She shrugged again and pointed at the top row of the dishwasher where all the mugs were, then opened a cabinet. The mugs were mismatched and coffee stained like the ones at your house, and you were careful not to chip them as you pulled each one out and wiped it dry.
“Can I ask why I’m here?” you said.
You put a diner-style mug face down on a floral shelf liner. Diana took a few bowls and nested them inside one another.
“It wasn’t right,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you that.”
She stopped unloading the dishes for a moment, but she didn’t turn to you either. She just looked out the small window over the sink that had a view of the dark backyard.
“What exactly…”
“The way I made you tell me about Sean,” she said. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, Case. It was… manipulative. And it’s not something a friend would do.”
You took out another mug and held it up. It readI’M NOT LOUD. I’M SERBIAN.You set it next to the last one.
“Okay,” you said. “But would a friend have kept it from you in the first place?”
You grabbed another mug, but instead of putting it away, you just held it at your side.
“You’re not my friend,” she said.
