My palms always become damp before they ring the doorbell. I stiffen my nerve with a sharp nip of cooking brandy which burns my gut. Mona pecks me on the cheek and compliments the smells emanating from the stove. Three years and I still tingle at her shower-fresh touch, all almonds and honey. She makes me guilty. It was a long time ago; fleetingly nothing.
had been working for months on the other side of the world. Alison and I were drunk and lonely. Sometimes you ache for another. It was a mistake we’d buried, but at night it
resurfaces. I dream her so vividly: warm
breath on my neck, the sound of her heart pounding, salt on my lips. Occasionally, Paul looks at me and I swear he
knows. Not what exactly, but he knows
we’re avoiding something. That we’re
I catch her eye and am
unsure if I see want or regret. I can’t
trust myself to be alone with her and so I always invite another couple to act
Mona doesn’t know. I’d break if I lost either of them. The mushrooms need more salt. Mona calls greetings. I didn’t hear the bell.