Saffron, Silver, and Silence

"Another success," Mark grins raising his glass, "the food is delicious!"

"The rice tastes so exotic." adds Michelle.

"Would anyone like some more?" I ask with polite smile as I pass a bottle around the table again. "It's the saffron." I say connecting eyes with Michelle as if divulging some big secret. I rise from our cherry wood dining table in a robin's egg blue v-neck dress that highlights my features and makes my skin look a touch darker than the porcelain it really is.

"Saffron is so expensive." I hear Vanessa whisper to her husband as I collect the wine and head back to the kitchen to get dessert. I take a few last swigs from the bottle and hide the yellow food coloring in the back of the cupboard. I take the pumpkin custards out of the oven and before arranging them on a silver tray, I pause and take a look at my reflection in its mirrored surface.

Richard must have told a joke. I can hear his guffaw, twice as loud as the polite laughs of the others. I take a deep breath. The custards arranged with candied walnuts and thick maple syrup stand at the ready, the pièce de résistance on a silver tray, for our guests. Coffee and tea then a few more hours and the house will be silent again; we will be silent again. Richard in the den with the TV on relating more deeply to some sports commentator than he ever had with me. Me, alone, upstairs arranging things in a nursery that will never be filled, or at least that is what I have come to believe.

"These are my favorite." Richards says leaning back in his chair with his stomach protruding when I reenter the room. "I used to tell Mark there that I married 'er just to make sure I got to eat these babies for the rest of my time, didn't I Mark."

There is a clinking of spoons for a while, then a second round of coffee and a few more laughs. Soon Richard is helping Vanessa with her coat and we stand at the door and wave, his arm around my waist as we watch the cars pull out of the drive.

Moments later he is sitting in his leather arm chair in the den with that blasted machine filling him in on how the Browns were crushed and the Ravens just might make it this year. I put my hands on his shoulders and kiss his forehead, then pause waiting for a response.

All I get is silence.