Behind The Scene

CHAPTER 22

After spending a few hours in a trendy beachside cocktail bar with Crystal, I returned home with a plan in mind. It wasn't something massive and overly extravagant, but I hoped that it would be enough and that maybe, without all the bells and whistles, it would still show him how genuine I was about loving him and being partners in creating this life together.
"Mom, seriously, can you just give me a lecture when I'm not holding a pot of boiling water," I snapped, narrowly avoiding spilling the sauce everywhere.
"Fine," She replied dramatically, "Why are you making this meal anyway?"
"It's like a welcome home dinner," I lied, covering the fact that I'd fucked up in less than twenty-four hours, and was already resorting to make-up dinners in attempts to patch things up.
"I think he'd have been safer with a take-away," She laughed.
"That's why you're helping me," I replied, glowering at the phone whilst I waited for further instructions.
"Okay, okay," My mother said swiftly, before diving into the rest of the instructions for the recipe, talking me through each step until I'd finally finished.
"Right, now what?" I huffed as I closed the oven door and set the timer.
"Now you take it out when that thing goes off, and not a second later. In the meantime-"
"I can pour myself a drink?" I finished brightly.
I heard her mutter something under her breath before she spoke up again:
"No, in the meantime, you clean up the mess that you've made. You don't want him getting home to a bomb-site."
I looked around at the mess and winced. There was sauce up the wall behind the stove, pots laying on their side across the counter and even flour on the floor.
Yeesh!
"Gee, Mom, how did you know it was so bad?" I asked, plucking a sauce-stained tea towel from the counter and launching it into the laundry basket. "You have a nanny cam set up in Ross's suitcase or something?"
Wouldn't surprise me. I thought to myself snarkily as I attempted not to laugh.
"I don't need to see you, to know the disaster that you've undoubtedly created. I know you, Selena. You're your father's daughter when it comes to your culinary skills. I love the man, but he's the only person I know who can burn a boiled egg. I don't know what you've been eating out there this long."
I glanced at the stack of take-away menus that I'd compiled since my arrival and shrugged.
"It's mostly been those easily prepared meals," I replied.
The ones where you pick up the phone and let someone else make it.
"Well it's nice that you're doing this for Ross, he's been so lonely out here these months. He really missed you," She said.
I felt even more guilty hearing it from my mother too.
"It was lonely out here too," I said quietly.
"Yes, but you chose to go out there before he was able to leave. You knew that would mean you'd be alone."
"And we've come back to that now have we?" I asked exasperatedly.
"To what exactly?"
"To the lecture that you always seem to want to give me, Mom."
"It isn't a lecture, Selena. It's just concern. You had so much out here and threw it all away for-"
"For a future!" I snapped. "And I didn't throw it all away, I just had to do what I could to make this work."
Even as the words came from my mouth, I couldn't help but hope that it was true and that I hadn't thrown it all away. Everything felt like it was hanging by a thread already, and with the guilt weighing so heavily in my heart, and my acting career at a stand-still, the idea that it was all for nothing, and that I could indeed have thrown away the best thing I had in my life was too much to handle.
"It's not too late, you can sti-"
"Mom, I can't do this now," I interrupted, desperate to escape, "I've got to go."
I didn't wait for her to answer before cutting the call and switching my phone to silent so that I didn't have to hear the string of angry text messages or the repeat calls all attempting to force me to hear her out or face her version of reality. It wasn't that I didn't love my mother. I did. But she had a knack for knowing when I was at my lowest and then proceeding to hit me with more than I could handle, and the way she did it made me feel like my brain was being repeatedly whacked by a meat tenderiser until I couldn't handle any more.
In an attempt to calm my mind and get into a better place before Ross would be home, I put on some music and began to clean the kitchen. There was something almost soothing about clearing away the mess. Tidying the disaster zone and leaving it clean and organised once more. It was like the physical representation of my life right now. Trying to erase my mistakes and get to the clean and shiny moment where all would be right again.
When evening rolled in I checked on the dinner, then went to change, ready for the time that Ross would be returning home. Rummaging through my closet, I tugged a new, nude, fitted cocktail dress from the back. It was one of my first purchases with my money from dancing and was just classy and sexy enough to be perfect for tonight. Once I was changed, I put on a fresh coat of lipgloss and combed my fingers through my hair, then returned to the kitchen to set up the table.
Admiring my work a short time later, I breathed a sigh of relief at having pulled it off. The kitchen table now looked like something from a restaurant, dressed in a crisp white sheet, with a bouquet of roses positioned in the middle and some scattered red petals across the table beneath the best china I could find in the cupboard and some cute, little, glass tealight holders, which were glowing softly from the flickering candles within them. I turned the lighting down and pressed play on the Spotify playlist I'd set up for tonight, turning the sound down so that it was only heard softly in the background.
Resisting the urge to help myself to wine in advance, I placed the bottle on the table with two wine glasses, and the salad bowl then began serving up the lasagne. The second plate had only just hit the table when I heard a key in the door, followed by Ross stepping inside.
He stopped in the doorway, his eyes flicking between the table and me before he spoke:
"What's all this?"
He closed the door, giving me the chance to quickly smooth over my dress again as I answered.
"It's a peace offering."
Dropping his bag by the door, he drew nearer, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the lasagne.
"You cooked?" He asked uneasily.
When his eyes found mine again, I could see the warmth back in their molten gold depths.
I laughed as his mouth twitched upward in an awkward smile.
"Yes, but it's safe, I promise," I assured him, "I had help."
"Oh?"
"I called my Mom, she gave me step by step instructions," I smiled.
"You willingly called your mother?" He asked, surprisedly.
"Yup," I replied, "I wanted to do something to show you that I do care." I watched him exhale slowly, his shoulders slumping as he was finally ready to hear me out, "I love you, I really do, and I know that my actions haven't exactly supported that," I said hurriedly, trying to get everything out before he could cut me off, "But you're the most important thing in my life, and I hate that I hurt you and can't take any of it back. I made this dinner as a small way to show you that I mean what I say and I hope that this can be a fresh start for us, where, going forward, I will be more conscious of my actions and considerate of your feelings."
I'd said everything so fast that I hadn't even taken a breath in between. Drawing in a lungful of air, I waited for his response, feeling more and more anxious as each second went by in silence.
"It's not all your fault," He finally said, blindsiding me with the unexpected route he'd taken. "I thought about it a lot whilst I was at work, and I should have said something before. You aren't a mind reader, and it wasn't fair of me to hold it against you when I hadn't voiced my issues with it before." He reached out and took my hands in his own, the tender move making my heart flutter happily in my chest and my knees go weak, "I love you, so much, and we've done a lot to get here. I don't want to throw it all away or fight with you. We have the rest of our lives to iron out the wrinkles, so why don't we just do what you said, and make this a fresh start. One where we can both move forward on a clean slate and hopefully get better at communicating."
I nodded frantically before he smiled, chuckling slightly and enveloped me in his arms, where I closed my eyes and tucked my head against the crook of his neck, allowing myself to be comforted by his warmth and the reassuring safety of his embrace.
"Now, why don't we give this dinner a try," He suggested, releasing me and turning to the table. "Unlike most of your past attempts, this actually smells edible.
"Hey!"
I swatted him on the arm and beamed at the joyful laugh he expelled as he untucked my chair, then took a seat in the one opposite.
It was impossible not to count my blessings that evening as we caught up, chatting over wine and a delicious dinner, the unease and strain from our fight now trickling away rapidly as peace was restored and I looked forward to this being the first of many good memories together in our home.