Phoenix of Dawn

10 Feet Down

With dusk falling around us, Rose lead me back to her place. She was chatting my ear off and I let her because it seemed to keep a handle on that melancholy sitting in the back of her eyes. I wanted to make her talk about it but that seemed a little forceful. I'd imagined it a thousand times but I wasn't sure it would do any good. She didn't want to talk about it and making her relive that heartbreaking moment seemed more traumatic than being in it. She was safe now. There was no reason I should make this space suddenly unsafe for her. 

"My Nana is a little coo-coo," She warned, stepping up the wooden porch stairs, "She's a believer in the whole Phoenix of Dawn thing."

"I thought you were too," I asked, almost sure I'd seen her eyeing the graffiti with awe.

She shrugged, "I do and I don't. Now that I've met you I think that there's potential."

Unabashed by her honest remark she gave an unapologetic shrug. 

Rose is a savage.

"Touche. I'm not sure I believe in it myself. Whoever she is, I don't really know for sure that she's me."

Her perfectly plucked brow lifted, "Oh I'm sure it's you. I just think you're a little lacking right now."

My jaw dropped, "Ouch. Tell it like it is Rose. Where's the shy girl I met the other day?"

"My apologies. I just think honesty is the best policy. The truth hurts but you don't grow if you don't hear it," She explained. 

"Well, your honesty is refreshing. I'm tired of being looked at me like I did something to deserve this... role. All I did was survive."

The front door creaked open revealing an elderly woman. Her soft skin was wrinkled, white hair pinned into a bun, and the brown in her eyes was glassy. The scent of something floral, lilies maybe, wafted out onto the porch. 

"We don't choose what people think of us," She rattled out, "We only choose if we want to live up to it."

Her bony hand moved to offer me entrance into their home. With a mumble of thanks I stepped over the threshold. The space was very much lived in. Family photos lined the walls, discarded shoes in the foyer,  a fire in the living room and fresh baked bread on the dining room table. 

"Sit, sit," She demanded, shooing Rose and I to the table, "The roast is almost done."

I watched her bustle about the kitchen humming something in her wavering voice. Rose was flashing me apologetic looks and I got the message that they didn't have company over very often. 

After a moment the smell of pepper and tender meat wafted through the room. Rose's grandmother placed the pan in the center of the table. 

Hopeful that no one noticed the drool I said, "This looks amazing Ms.--"

"Lillian," She offered sweetly, "You can call me Lilly."

Careful not to seem to greedy I served myself some of the scrumptious looking food and grabbed a piece of bread. 

"No, no, darling you are far too thin," Lillian reached over and piled more of everything onto my plate.

One bite and I was nearly on the floor moaning. It was amazing. Forkful after forkful flew into my mouth till I'd nearly forgotten that there were more problems than my inability to eat it fast enough. 

I couldn't help myself though. Lilly's cooking was the bomb and I literally could not put my fork down. The last bite had me nearly popping the top button of my shorts for relief. Lilly was the kind of cook you didn't mind putting on a few pounds for.