Read Online The Color of Home: A Novel by Rich Marcello - Free Book Online

sprinted the short distance from the cab to the restaurant and, drenched, waited inside to be seated. Nick had been on edge ever since their “Hold You” conversation. He wasn’t sure why, but they seemed to be averaging a minor squabble a day. Didn’t she hear him? Did he have to spend so much time in the studio? Why wouldn’t he clean up after himself? Things like that. A server seated them in the back corner of the dining room.
    “I love your hair wet,” Nick said.
    “Strange man.”
    “It reminds me of morning.” He ordered the same thing as her, a Mesa Burger with double cheddar cheese, grilled Vidalia onion, horseradish mustard, and Southwestern fries. “How’s work going?”
    “Bad week. I made a celery sorbet, which the other chefs made fun of behind my back.”
    “Jerks.”
    “The customers seemed to like it. I even had one woman ask to speak with me about it. She said it was her favorite dessert of all time.”
    “I don’t know why you put up with work politics.” He flicked the salt and pepper shakers over with his index finger. Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze bounced from table to table, then out on the street. The steam had dissipated.
    “Part of the deal, I guess.”
    “Why don’t you talk to your boss?” he asked.
    “No need. It’ll pass.”
    “Why don’t you tell your coworkers off?”
    “It will pass, Nick. No big deal.”
    “Why are you so unassertive? You need to nip these things in the bud before they get out of hand.”
    “I’m not unassertive.” She stood up the salt and pepper shakers.
    Under the table, he dug his thumb into his thigh. As he pushed harder, a wave of sadness came. He focused on his breath. In, calm. Out, sadness. In, calm. Out, sadness. In, calm. Out, sadness. Something gave way. He clenched his fist, opened it. Punch someone. Or crawl into bed and sleep for twenty hours. “Yes, you are. Don’t let them run all over you. You don’t want to come across as weak.” He sprang up before she could respond and then headed to the restroom.
    In the bathroom, he studied his face in the mirror as he washed his hands. What was he doing? Why was he so angry at her? Where was the sadness coming from? He had to do better.
    A few minutes later, he sat back down at the table and folded his hands across his lap. Their hamburgers had arrived while he was away. Mostly they ate in silence, shifting the focus of what little conversation they had to the food. Freshly made ketchup. Horseradish made the burger. Medium rare was the only way to go.
    After she finished her burger, she reached across the table and placed her hand on his. “I don’t need you to solve things for me, Nick. I can handle myself at work.”
    “I’m sorry. I’ve calmed down.”
    “I need you to listen and acknowledge what I’m feeling. That’s enough.”
    “I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I got so angry.”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    The waitress stepped lightly over to the table and left the bill. Without looking at Sassa, he grabbed the bill, left more than enough money on the table, and headed for the exit. When he reached the door, he whirled around to say something to Sassa only to find that she was still at the table staring at him, eyebrows raised. A moment later, back at the table and on the edge of his seat, he tapped his heel on the floor.
    “Why do you keep leaving without me?” she asked.
    “I don’t know.”
    “You’ve done it a lot lately.”
    “I’m so sorry.” Relaxing a little, he pushed back in his chair. Over the past month, he’d often paid the bill, leapt up abruptly, and abandoned her before she’d finished her meal. Each time he left all caught up in something, only for a moment, as if he had no control over the initial leaving. Even after she called him on his behavior, he had a hard time catching himself before it was too late. He’d regretted his behavior. He’d apologized. But fear continued to snake in unexpectedly. He’d caught an emotional