Chapter 1: Dinner with Friends
The chandelier flickered, casting buttery puddles of light across the mahogany table. It groaned, a deep, satisfied sound, under the weight of the feast. Steam curled from cracked crab legs piled high like a spicy, rust-colored mountain. A whole sea bass gleamed in a bath of dark soy and slivered ginger, its eye a milky pearl staring at the ceiling. The air was thick, humming with garlic and chili and something else, something wet and ancient, like the breath of a tide pool at midnight.
Bella bounced on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands together. “Wah! So beautiful! So happy!”
Her voice was a bright chime in the warm room. She was a skinny bolt of energy in a simple black dress, her smile wide and gummy, transforming her whole face. She peered at the sea bass, her nose almost touching its steaming skin. “Hello, Mr. Fish! You look very handsome today. Very juicy.” She giggled, a sound like breaking glass. “You wait there. Bella come for you.”
She turned her attention to a platter of giant prawns, their shells blushed pink and glistening. They were arranged in a circle, tails almost touching. Bella tilted her head. “Amy? Amy, that you? You always sit like this, so shy!” She poked one with a chopstick. “You think you can hide? No chance!”
She skipped to her chair, the legs scraping a joyful shriek from the floorboards. She didn’t question the silence, the empty chairs. Her friends were just late. They were always late. But the food was here, and it was so beautiful.
“Okay, protocol!” she announced to the room, picking up a crab leg. It was heavier than usual, the shell a familiar, intricate pattern of bumps and ridges that felt oddly like… braided leather? She shook the thought away. “First, the crab. My favorite.”
She wielded the cracker with the solemnity of a surgeon. Crack. The sound was loud, final. “Oh, big guy,” she cooed, pulling out the dense, snowy meat. “You so strong! But Bella is stronger.” She popped the meat into her mouth, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “Mmm. Sweet. A little… salty? Like David’s sweat after basketball!” She laughed, alone, the sound echoing slightly.
She moved to the prawns. With swift, precise motions, she decapitated and peeled them. The flesh beneath was plump, veined with delicate threads that reminded her of something she couldn’t place. “Amy, I tell you,” she mumbled around a mouthful, “you need more exercise. Too soft!” She grinned, sucking the juice from her fingers. The heads she saved in a little pile, their antennae trembling faintly in the steam.
The soup came next, a fragrant broth swimming with mussels. Their shells were clamped tight, a beautiful blue-black. “Mark,” she sighed, scooping several into her bowl. “Always so closed up. Never want to talk about feelings.” She pried one open with her thumb. “Open up! Talk to Bella!” The mussel gave way, releasing a puff of briny scent. She slurped it straight from the shell. “There. See? Not so bad.”
Course after course. She devoured scallops that were almost too perfect, their texture a creamy firmness that was satisfying in a deep, visceral way. She tore into salty-sweet strands of squid, chewy and resilient. “Fighting me, eh? Like Lisa when I take last piece of cake!” She wrestled with it, laughing, finally winning.
The centerpiece was the sea bass. She served herself the cheek, the prized piece. “The best for Bella, sorry Mr. Fish!” She peeled the delicate flesh from the bone with expert chopsicks. It flaked apart, moist and steaming. She ate slowly, savoring. “Such a good listener, you know? Just like Sam. Always so quiet, just watching.” She chewed thoughtfully. A flicker of something crossed her mind—Sam’s quiet, observant eyes, the way they followed the room. She swallowed the thought with the fish.
Her chatter filled the empty room, a one-sided conversation full of inside jokes and playful scoldings directed at the food. She never noticed how the crab shells, piled high on her discard plate, vaguely resembled a particular pair of chunky sunglasses her friend David always wore. She didn’t see the way the prawn heads, with their long antennae, looked like Amy’s elaborate false eyelashes, cast off after a long night. The scent in the air, that deep salt, was the exact mix of David’s cologne and the ocean breeze from their last beach trip.
She just ate. And ate.
She piled her bowl high with fried rice, studded with bright peas and cubes of charred barbecue pork. “Last round, my friends! Time for sleepy in Bella’s tummy!”
She ate until her black dress felt tight. Until a pleasant, heavy warmth spread from her core to her fingertips. She slumped back in her chair, patting her flat stomach, which now held a gentle curve.
“So good,” she breathed, her eyelids drooping. The room was quiet, just the faint hiss of the dying steam from the woks. She looked at the devastation: hollow shells, gnawed bones, empty plates. A battlefield of a wonderful dinner.
A soft, happy sigh escaped her. She felt full. Not just with food, but with a cozy, golden contentment. She had shared a great meal. She could almost feel her friends’ laughter lingering in the air, could almost see their shapes in the shadows beyond the chandelier’s light. They must have slipped out while she was focused on eating, letting her have her feast. How thoughtful.
She smiled that gummy, radiant smile at the empty chairs. “Thank you for dinner, my friends,” she whispered, her English soft and broken with sleepiness. “Very, very delicious.”
A final, faint crunch came from her gut as she settled deeper into the chair, a sound of peaceful digestion. She closed her eyes, humming a happy tune, completely and blissfully unaware that she was, truly, completely alone. And that she had never been more full of company in her life.