Hardly Perfection

6 - Milk

"She says the bleeding's incidental."

>~<

Luke's pace slows down as we exit his bedroom. I think he remembered how much smaller and slower I am than him. The hallway walls are a pale and sandy tan color littered with pictures between the dark wooden doors; scattered and imperfect in the best way possible. We reach a long rounded stairway with black metal railings that trail off into the front doorway area. The hallway continues, but Luke begins descending the stairs. A giant chandelier hangs in the open ceiling space. It's kind of rustic with an antique feel that most likely costs more than college tuition.

"Are you coming or am I eating dinner alone in the dark?" Luke yells up to me as he nears the bottom of the staircase.

Realizing that I had been too busy admiring the architecture to follow him, I respond, " Yeah...yeah I'm coming." and begin my descent behind Luke.

>~<

Beyond the staircase and front door is the kitchen and dining room to the right, and living room to the left. The kitchen is equipped with a large island with dark wood and granite countertops with stainless steel and black appliances, a sink, and some baskets of various fruits. The oven and refrigerator are placed on the walls surrounded by more granite. The living room has two comfortable looking leather couches with a coffee table and the absolute hugest flat screen television that I have seen in my life.

I follow Luke to the long table surrounded by 12 chairs with two bowls of spaghetti across from each other. I pull out a chair and sit on it while I wait for him to come back with the silverware that is surprisingly not made of a dark metal.

"Eat up." he says emotionlessly as he sets a fork and spoon on both of our napkins.

"You eat spaghetti with a spoon too?" I ask him. I've always had to ask people for a spoon because no one twirls their pasta on it. Its really hard to explain, but my Italian grandparents taught me when I would go to their house for Spaghetti Thursdays. That's a different story that I won't get into right now.

"Of course. Its so messy if you only use a fork with long noodles." I beam as he picks up both utensils and begins to circle the spaghetti noodles around his fork.

"And I thought I was the only one." I say. Obviously my family does too so I'm not the only one. Its a figure of speech, so just roll with it.

He doesn't respond, nor do I speak until halfway through the delicious meal that could potentially be just as good as my grandmother's. Maybe.

"How did you make this? The power is still out." I say as I notice the room darken even more. Since its November in Washington, the sky begins to get dark around 4 especially with the already ominous storm clouds.

"Its a gas stove," he says pointing to the machine "so you don't need power." he says as if I had asked what 2+2 equals. I slap my hand over my face as my cheeks redden from embarrassment. Obviously, Dani. Good one. Luke lets out a sound of something between a low chuckle and sigh. I hope it's a good thing. I let my hand slip down to rest on my thigh again as I let out a huff of annoyance at myself and continue eating. 2 minutes later I say,
"You have a very lovely home by the way. It's so big..." I speak truthfully. Its much larger than my mother's house. Yes they are divorced. My life may not be as perfect as I let on.

"It's not mine," he says blankly. Oh.

"Oh, whose is it?" I ask. I shouldn't have asked that. He'll think I'm prying too much and blow up on me, oh god.

"None of your business," he responds, taking another bite.

"Sorry..." I apologize. He slams down his fist on the table loud enough to make me jump and look up with my eyes wide. He chuckles.