He Humiliated Me in Public, So His Regret Pays by the Tear novel · Chapter 20 of 32

Chapter 20: Pierogi Sunday

Babcia set the table for five on the second Sunday of June, and she did not say who the fifth was.

I came in with Marta and a box of poppy seed rolls and stopped in the kitchen doorway.

Piotr sat on one side of the table in a clean flannel shirt.

Dominik sat on the other side, in a gray sweater.

He had his hands folded in front of him.

Neither of them looked up.

The rail on Babcia's stoop was new.

I had seen it coming in, a solid black iron rail bolted into concrete, and I had known who put it there.

"Sit," Babcia said.

"Babcia."

"Sit, sit. The soup is hot."

Marta slid into the chair next to Piotr, with the face of a woman buying front-row tickets.

I took the last chair, which was between the two men, because Babcia had decided that.

She ladled barszcz into five bowls.

She put a basket of rye in the middle of the table.

The plate of pierogi, and a bottle of vodka with a pencil mark on the side.

"Eat," she said.

We ate.

For ten minutes the only sound was spoons.

Dominik ate the way he used to in the first year of our marriage.

He ate slowly, with attention, grateful to be fed.

Piotr ate steadily and looked at the wall.

I had never wanted so badly to be struck by lightning.

"Piotr," Babcia said. "Tell me about your father's oven."

"It's a Middleby, Pani. From 1962."

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