Page 32 of Mountain Shadow

11

Sarah

The thing Sarah was most grateful for—other than the amazing and recurrent orgasms, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced even with her vibrator—was the fact that sex with Jens hadn’t led to any awkwardness. Their relationship seemed to have moved forward on both the physical and emotional plane, without them ever agreeing on it explicitly.

On Thursday, Sarah offered to cook her favorite chicken curry for dinner. It was one of the few dishes in her limited repertoire, but one she was confident he’d enjoy. “I’ll go into town and get some groceries while you’re working.”

Jens looked up from his laptop, flexing his impressive shoulders. If the fact that he’d been relegated to reading over reports bothered him, he didn’t say anything. Technically, of course, he was also still on vacation.

“I’ll come with you,” he offered. “I need a break anyway, and I have to pick up a few things for my neighbor.”

“You have neighbors?” Sarah asked. She hadn’t seen any other houses along the way.

“You make me sound like some kind of hermit. Madame Chablis lives just a bit further up the road. She’s eighty-three. Her sons come over every couple of weeks and fill up her fridge, but I like to make sure she always has fresh eggs, milk and apples.”

“That’s nice,” Sarah said.

This world is so far removed from home.

She tried hard to picture the couple living across from her flat. She wasn’t sure she’d recognize them out on the street, but then again, most of the time, she only saw the back of them when they were opening the door to their flat. She’d certainly never asked them if they needed anything.

“She’s a nice lady. And nobody should go without fresh milk. Plus, she makes me apple pie sometimes.”

“Well, I’m happy to buy some extra eggs, milk, and apples.”

“I’ll come with you,” he insisted, already putting on his red coat.

“Fine,” she said, pretending to sound exasperated, though secretly she was pleased at the chance to do something as mundane as grocery shopping together.

Careful, Sarah. This isn’t like you.

“This is what you call grocery shopping?” she asked, one hour later.

So far, they’d been to a cheesemonger, a butcher, and now a small, local grocery store.

“What did you imagine?” he laughed.

“I don’t know. Something like Tesco or Sainsbury’s, I suppose,” she said self-consciously.

“There’s a large Carrefour on the highway. I hate it.”

His muscles flexed, making his triceps bulge as he pushed the cart, distracting her.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Is it working?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, walking ahead of him and leaning over to pick up a can from the lower shelf.

Jens groaned. “Okay, stop that.”

“What? I needed some curry paste.”

“Are you really going to cook us dinner?” He sounded unconvinced.

“I’ll have you know I make a mean curry!”

At the cash register, Jens reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Sarah froze. She’d been enjoying herself so much, she’d forgotten this wasn’t something either of them had chosen—that she’d forced this situation on him. “I’m sorry you need to pay for this as well.”