meals prepared by Eli, but it seems like they always ended on a bad note. This time, I hope to do things better.
When the garage door opens, I feel nervousness boiling in my belly. We’ve been married over four years, and I’ve made dinner for the two of us more times than either of us could count, but this time is different. This dinner is a medicine to heal us of the plague we’ve been stricken with. We’ve been dying for over half a year, and I’m cooking our remedy and cure tonight, so it feels like a big deal. I’m not sure if the bead of sweat on my head is from the heat of the kitchen or the nerves under my skin.
“Hi,” Eli says when he walks in, but it comes out as a question rather than a greeting.
“Hi,” I say, spinning around to greet him with a smile.
I’m surprised at how genuine the smile feels, because I've been faking it for a long time now. Forgiveness is an amazing thing. I feel like I’ve literally released myself from the grip of a monster. I didn't realize my anger was a prison, and the only way out of the cage was to forgive Eli and move on, whether that was with him or without him. Forgiveness was the key.
“You making dinner?” Eli asks as he furrows his brow. He looks completely confused, as if I’m tricking him.
“I was,” I reply. “Now I’m done cooking dinner, and you don't have to look so scared. It’s not poisoned.” I giggle, and Eli’s frown only grows deeper, but he tries to force a smile.
“Oh,” he says with a nervous grin. “This is … unexpected. Did you have a good day at work?” Eli comes in and sets his briefcase down in the chair he sat in during our last argument, and I have to force the memory away.
“No, not really,” I answer. “Just wanted to come home and cook us dinner. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. I guess it has.”
“Well, it’s ready, so if you want to drop off your stuff and come right back, I’ll have it in the living room waiting for you.”
“We’re eating together?” Eli asks, and I almost feel annoyed because I thought that was obvious, but I force it away again.
“Yeah, is that okay with you?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the plate of food I’m now organizing.
“Absolutely,” Eli answers to my delight, just before he walks to the basement to drop off his stuff from work. A few minutes later, the two of us are sitting in the living room eating baked chicken with penne pasta in Alfredo sauce in front of our fireplace and TV.
The hardest part about forgiveness is letting go of the pain and the memory of it being given to you. The night I saw the message from Amber plays over and over in my mind like a bad horror flick, and it takes everything in me not to think about it every single day. Now that I’ve decided to forgive Eli, I have to cut that movie off, but it feels like I’m not the one with the remote control. No matter how much I want to watch something else, the movie just keeps playing. Bad thoughts keep bombarding my mind, and it takes everything in me to push them out.
“So, how was work?” I ask, digging my fork into my pasta.
“It was okay,” Eli says. “Same old, really. We won a contract to work with DelDOT to construct a stretch of highway going north. It’s a million dollars worth of work, so that’s cool.”
“Wow, that is cool. Congratulations.” Thoughts of Eli’s new secretary flash across my mind, and I find relief in knowing Amber wasn't the person who fielded the call between Eli and the Delaware Department of Transportation.
“Thank you,” Eli says, with a subtle smile. “How was work for you? I’m surprised to see you home this early. This pasta is incredible, by the way.”
“I know, right! I’m an incredible cook,” I joke behind a laugh. Eli joins me and it feels so good to get back to the laughter we’d left behind. “Anyway, work was fine. I didn't have any home visits scheduled for today, so I doubled down on my paperwork so I can be ahead of schedule from now on. I’m trying to work out a system that either has me doing paperwork in the morning and visits in the afternoon. Or, I’ll alternate days—paperwork