I’m so hungry.
I want steak. I want a medium well done Wagyu steak, with mushroom sauce. Or Worcestershire. And maybe a side of potatoes.
The kind of meal we would both usually have.
I get worked up to go out and eat. I’d bathe, and put on some going-out clothes, and literally be standing in front of the bedroom door, holding the knob, when I get gripped with fear and I hesitate.
Because I never could eat alone.
Not before, and certainly not now.
So I would just ignore the hunger and drink some water. There always has to be water in the room.
(Sidenote: I just took some time to research if water from the bathroom is safe to drink, and Google says it is. Good to know. Now I really have no reason to go out.)
So.
I’m so hungry, and I think of all the food that I could be eating, and it would tainted by memories of him.
Sushi, ramen, or anything Japanese food.
Steak. Roasted meats. Pasta. Anything Western.
Local foods. Hawker meals. Nearby restaurants. All of it.
Even the food in the kitchen in our house.
So the hunger in my stomach has to sit there, ignored and eventually forgotten. I appease it with a sip of water, and even that leaves a twinge. Because he used to always bring me water when I needed it, hot or cold or warm or iced. For any reason.
I can’t forego water though. I would die.
But then again, that might be the ending of all of of this.
—
I could have tea. But then again tea is also tinged with sadness. Tea also brings with it a memory.
Someone told me yesterday of someone else who said, “even breathing reminds me of him.”
I think I’m at that point too.
—
Or, I’d think of getting something to eat and I’d remember that this month, we didn’t even have enough to send money back home as per usual. That I had to message my mom and tell her, ask her, if we could forego the cash this month, because we are so strapped. I’m counting on two debts to be paid to even make ends meet.
—
Can you imagine. This month we are off by some 80 odd dollars. That is just one meal for some. It’s actually the price of some meals we’ve had before, for the both of us.
—
He coughs and my heart leaps. He’s outside, and I don’t know which is worse. I want him near. But I don’t want to bother him with my presence. Maybe if I remain very very quiet, he’ll stay forever.
—
Chicken wings.
—
It’s raining now, a soft patter that doesn’t seem to stop. The rain is keeping him indoors I think. I’m not sure if he’s still out there.
—
It’s a quiet, unassuming rain, falling as if it doesn’t want to interrupt, doesn’t want to offend. It falls soft, tiny drops streaming down, not with force, but like tears.
—
But what if I accidentally slice my wrists
