November
Lydia coughed, choked, and bravely swallowed. She smiled tremulously, but Beetlejuice immediately juiced her plate away and replaced it with a perfect serving of turkey tetrazzini with crisp broccoli on the side.
"No, Beej, that was . . . fine. Really, it was just a little . . ." She cleared her throat and took a sip from her wine glass. "I said I'd try it and it was . . . interesting." She took another sip.
"Awful? Horrible? Inedible?" He leaned back in his chair at the table across from her and frowned down at his own plate. "It's okay that you don't like liver. But some people do so I thought –"
"It's okay, Beej, and this looks amazing. Thank you." She picked up her fork and speared a piece of turkey in rich sauce.
He sighed and shoved his own food around his plate. "You need to tell me when I don't do it right, babes. So I can get it right the next time." He looked down at his own liver and onions – the onions barely cooked, still crunchy – and sighed. He'd brought out a good rosé for them to drink and hoped they'd found another meal they could share and enjoy. But, even without the onions, the liver would never be served again.
"You know," she said between eager bites of her turkey and pasta, "it doesn't bother me when we don't eat the same dinner. It's being with you for the meal that's important. I'm just sorry it makes more work for you when it's your turn to cook."
Beetlejuice shook his head at her, having begun on his own meal. "I know. I mean, it's not that it's extra work, but I do understand about it being about us sharing something. I guess . . ." he paused and considered, producing a little smile of gratification at her enjoyment of her dinner, "I guess it's just that the more things we have in common, the more it feels like . . . I don't exactly know, we're closer somehow?"
She scraped the last of the sauce from her plate and savored it. "I know what you mean. But I really don't think it's important that we have the same thing at every meal. Why not just have what we like, whatever that is? I don't mind cooking something else for you." She sighed with contented satisfaction. "That was delicious, darling Beej. Did you like your liver?"
"My liver? I didn't cook my liver!" he said in a shocked voice. Then while she laughed and disclaimed, he cleared the table and brought dessert over. "So, we just have the things we both like sometimes and stuff for each of us the other nights?"
"Sure, why not? It isn't that much more work." She gazed with delight at the bowl in front of her. "Especially when one of us is happy to just have a plate of spaghetti or a bucket of Ken's Yuckified Beetles. I could have a big salad on those nights. Or something I could heat up in the microwave."
"But, that's still like making two meals. You sure that isn't too much more work?"
"For someone who makes me strawberry shortcake – when he hates fruit himself? There's no telling what I would do for that guy," and she smiled at him wickedly.