Dana was standing in front of the sink as she rinsed the last of the lettuce leaves for the salad. The kitchen was filled with the smell of roasted chicken, garlic bread, and mashed potatoes. It was the kind of dinner she had learned to prepare because her husband was a man who liked simple American meals. Dana wiped her hands on the apron and checked the table again. Every plate was in its place, and the glasses were lined neatly.
Her reflection was visible in the glass of the cabinet door, and she paused when she caught sight of herself. Her face was still beautiful. Her skin was clear, her lips were soft, and her dark eyes were framed by long lashes. Men had stared at her often when she was younger, and she remembered how many of them wanted her attention. Her figure was still the same, with a full chest, a narrow waist, and curves that stood out no matter what she wore.
Sometimes Dana was asking herself if her husband even noticed these things. She was wondering if Cali still had any real feelings for her, or if she was only a woman who kept his house in order.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway was what brought her out of her thoughts. Dana untied the apron quickly and fixed the neckline of her blouse. Her fingers brushed through her hair until it fell neatly around her shoulders, and she walked toward the door.
Cali was stepping inside with his briefcase in his hand. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie was loose, and his face was showing how tired he was after the day.
"You're home," Dana said with a small smile. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, searching his eyes for any warmth.
"Yeah," Cali answered in a flat voice. He set down the briefcase on the chair and walked straight toward the dining table.
"I made dinner," Dana said quickly while following him. She lifted the serving spoon and placed food on his plate. "Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, corn. Everything is fresh."
"Thanks," Cali said as he picked up his fork. His tone was even, and he did not look up at her. He began to eat slowly.
Dana sat across from him, folding her hands on the table for a moment before asking, "How was work today?" Her voice carried hope that he might say more than a few words.
"Busy," Cali replied while chewing. He shrugged lightly. "Same as always."
She nodded, forcing a small smile as she reached for the pitcher. She filled his glass with water and said, "You must be tired. Maybe the food will help."
"It's fine," Cali said as he took a sip. His eyes were fixed on the plate again.
Dana leaned forward as she reached for the basket of bread. Her blouse pulled against her chest as she moved, and she waited for his eyes to lift. Her heart was beating quickly, but he kept eating as if nothing was different.
She pressed her lips together, then asked carefully, "Do you ever feel like we don't talk anymore?"
Cali looked up finally. His brows were pulling together as he set the fork down. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice slightly tense.
"I mean…" Dana's fingers twisted against the edge of her napkin, but she forced herself to go on. "You come home, you eat, you sit in front of the television, and then you go to bed. Sometimes I feel like I am living here alone."
"I work all day," Cali said, his jaw tightening as he spoke. "When I get home, I just want peace. That's all."
"And me?" Dana asked, her voice low. She searched his face. "Don't you miss me at all?"
Cali pressed his lips together and looked at her steadily. "You think too much. We're fine," he said.
Dana was staring at him while her chest tightened. She wanted to believe him, but the distance between them was clear. She gave a small nod and forced a smile as she said, "Eat more chicken. I'll get you some."
She stood, carried the platter, and placed more slices of meat on his plate. He did not argue. He just kept eating.
The rest of the meal was quiet. Dana moved slowly as she cleared the dishes, while Cali leaned back in his chair for a moment before leaving for the living room. She washed the plates at the sink, her eyes drifting toward him. He was sitting on the couch with the television on, his face blank, the flicker of the screen reflecting in his eyes.
When the last dish was dry, Dana went into the bedroom. She changed into a light gown that shaped her body and showed the fullness of her chest. She brushed her hair until it was smooth and let it fall over her shoulders. She sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. Her hands rested on her lap, but she kept glancing at the door, listening to the muffled sound of the television.
When Cali came in at last, Dana smiled and said, "You should rest here. It's more comfortable than the couch." Her voice carried a softness she hoped he would notice.
He nodded and sat down on the bed. Dana reached for his hand and held it lightly. "I missed you today," she said.
She leaned closer and kissed his jaw. Her chest was pressing against him as she moved near, and her eyes searched his for a reaction.
Cali pulled back slightly and sighed. "I'm tired. Let's sleep," he said.
Dana froze, her hand still on his arm. She lowered it slowly and nodded. "Alright," she said with a faint smile.
He lay on his side and closed his eyes, his back turned toward her. Dana stayed sitting for a while, staring at him. She finally lay down next to him, but her eyes stayed open.
She was remembering her college years, when men wanted her attention. They stared at her face, at her body, at her breasts, and she knew that she could have chosen any of them. She had saved herself, believing that marriage would give her the love and desire she longed for. Now she was wondering if she had made a mistake.
She was wondering if Cali still cared about her the way he used to.
Cali's breathing was steady beside her. Dana turned her face toward the ceiling. Her chest was heavy, but she held it in. She closed her eyes with the hope that one day he would look at her again, not only as his wife but as the woman he once desired.