Without You
I woke at 8:30 to a blustery day. Tidied the house, made our bed with white bottom sheet and a yellow top sheet and overlaid the white, Damask Quilt-cover you like so much. Cleaned the kitchen and made a coffee, lit a cigarette and thought of you. Telephone rang: Mike wanting to arrange to meet at Finbars pub on Sunday night. I say ok. Took out ingredients from fridge for defrosting.
9am, Garden full of leaves. Trimmed plants, watered them, wiped over garden table. It is too windy to sweep the leaves. Prepared Dining room, just in case the wind did not die away. Sat down to read recipes with another cigarette. Telephone rang again. Francesca invites me to a Barbecue on Sunday afternoon. I said yes. Poured another coffee, think of you, I forgot to say yes to your offer to make me Menus before you left. Listened to weather forecast: 27 now... 32 max, wind to abate.
10am, Cut inions, tomatoes, decide to add bacon to marrow filling recipe. Defrost mincemeat in microwave oven. Decide to add black olives, capers and anchovies to fish sauce recipe. Miss you a little. Add oil, vinegar, onion, mint and garlic to pan with fish and cover to marinate. Mike rings again. He asks to use my Computer, I say ok. Check wine supply. Look out of the kitchen window. The wind is nearly gone. Revised Forecast, max is now only 31. Swept garden and had a shower.
11am, making sauces. Add tomato-paste, capers, anchovies, fried inions and garlic to the heated oil. Francesca is on the phone again. She wants to talk. I tell her I am busy, but she cries and I put her on speaker phone...olive oil, vinegar, cracked pepper, oregano, curry. She has had another argument with Andrew about bills, she talks herself into a solution, thanks me. Minutes after-words Mike knocks at the door. He heads to the Computer, boil water for potatoes and marrow, start grilling, spoon marinade every 5 minutes over fish. Fry mince, onion bacon, have 5 minutes to talk with Mike while I nibble at a Shortbread biscuit.
12:00, wishing you were here. Hollow marrow and fill with mix, I've added egg, cheese, mint and parsley. Mike comes into kitchen and wants to talk. Have him fill the dishwasher. He tells me about meeting flatmate's friend, but too shy to ask her out. His flatmate is female. I suggest he asks flatmate to pub on Sunday and for her to bring her friend. He is happy and says he has to go home. I fake disappointment and he is gone.
1pm, Fish, sauces, marrow ready, need only to reheat. Choose pasta and put next to oven. Seafood for pasta is ready for quick frying, only few minutes required to finish it. Light cigarette, pour wine; I imagine talking to you. It is not the same. Dishwasher is ready. Review in my mind all the preparations. Everything has been finished in record time. I have started too early. I still make allowance for your distracting influence. There is plenty of time to prepare desert. Cut watermelon, it is beautiful.
2pm, Choose music for dinner:
"Quattro stagoni", Vivaldi Nigel Kennedy (solo violin) with early drinks while introducing new people to the group, with most guests in the kitchen.
"You always got the Blues" Cebrano & Matthews (rhythm & Blues) with Pasta and salad, conversation would be flowing with the help of more wine.
"Falsettas" Martinez & Dickson (guitar) served with the Fish and Frascati. If I disappear, hardly anyone would notice me gone.
"Blue Danube" followed by Bolero, some piano concertos and Sorbet with fruit-Desert. A move to sitting room would be apt at this time.
You are my Danube. You flowed into my life, soaked into my soul and left me holding on to memories and regrets while you went away with hardly a sound or sign, but the stain you left in my heart spreads.
3pm, Put all food in ovenproof ceramic dishes for quick warming. Prepare rest in dishes for serving. Lay Silver tray with all the Coffee requisites. Another tray for the Turkish dips. It is time to iron the tablecloth and a few shirts. I think of you asleep. Curled up with your hair in a mess. I see your hand on the pillow. Wish I had you to decorate the food on the plates. Listened to Stock market report: Dow Jones down 2 points, Australian Dollar down against US Dollar, not good. I think to myself "Thank God no more telephone calls, it was driving me nuts!"
Telephone rings: Francesca saying everything is organised for Sunday. Andrew and her have made up and she thanks me for my advice. I gave no advice, but accept the thanks anyway. I remember our arguments and get a hollow, empty feeling. I wish I was with you in Vienna.
5pm, lit oil burners to perfume house and wiped kitchen clean, opened 2 Claret bottles for breathing and the early guests started knocking at the door.
By 8 the party was in full swing. The new quests fitted well in the conversation, and as usual, Trish was quite tipsy by the end of the second course. I haven't been able to read your farewell letter fully. I think a three-page letter that starts with "I am leaving you forever", carries it's substance within those words; don't you think? I keep looking at it, but just can't bring myself to read beyond the first sentence.
Everything was perfect, everyone was happy, but every time you were mentioned, a piece of me died.
The house is in a mess, but the distraction is welcome. I'll be receiving party invitations for months and I think you were right about Kate being interested in me. God only knows, I need the company.
My budget is blown and it looks like toast and butter till payday. Somehow it is not important anymore. Being the centre of attention has lost its value. Complements ring hollow and thinking of seeing other people depresses me. It's funny how things change. Suddenly I'm not so selfish as you have so constantly accused me of being.
It is all over. Guests have departed for their homes. I am also home, alone and lonely. Why are you so far away? Do you think of me? … Do you?
E-mail to Ray Agius: Ramel@bigpond.com
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