The Great Below

The Holiday - Part 3

Half of her scrapbook was food.

There were recipes of every variety: appetizers, dips, roasts, vegetables, desserts. Extravagant miniature quiches with a sauce that required champagne. A cheesecake with decadent filling made from a thick Italian cheese she couldn't pronounce. Octavia wasn't sure why she'd clipped them, these foods. Sometimes she imagined herself cooking them, going down to a store on her own and having money and ticking each ingredient off a tidy list. The kitchen like a laboratory, full of measuring cups and simmering pans. There was never an endgame. Never a moment when she pictured Victor tasting or approving of her creations, or a game in which they cleaned the kitchen together, laughing. Throwing a pinch of flour at one another playfully. But she didn't want that little ember of hope to die, and so she compiled half a book of recipes for food she would probably never taste.

Octavia stared down at her mixed plate: sweet potatoes, turkey and cornbread. It smelled good enough. Steam rose from the table and wrapped itself around her face and hair. If the room had held just the food, her and the table; that would have been all right. But Dominic was carving the bird, three seats away and across from her. He'd gone sour, realizing that Alex wasn't in the building and that – more importantly – he hadn't informed anyone that he was going out. Nick whispered as much from right next to her, where he ate when he could manage, between talking and telling jokes. It could have been worse. On her other side, Raul was cutting his turkey into neat bites and then distributing cranberry sauce evenly over each one before lifting it to his mouth.

The table was tense. A big, echoing room with no music and little ambient noise; just two tables full of professional murderers and a family-friendly spread that would bring a tear to even Martha Stewart's eye.

Nick had devoured everything on his plate, which was impressive, given that he'd excused himself at the beginning of the meal to make a phone call. "They should be here by now," he whispered. "I'm going to check the garage."

Octavia turned to him cautiously, as it also meant that she turned toward Dominic, and put all of her fingernails into his arm. "Don't go," she said. It was enough having to spend the last forty minutes picturing Alex and Victor hanging out like old friends and wondering what in the hell they would have to talk about; she wasn't going to be left at the table by the one seemingly normal person she could lean on.

"Raul's here. Talk to him for a minute."

Nick wouldn't understand that Raul wasn't interested in speaking to her. He'd been clear enough about it on the first day she tried, when he'd feigned knowing English. Of course, she'd heard him speak enough of it since then.

When Octavia turned, Raul had already begun wiping his mouth with a napkin. "It is okay," he said, and even smiled. Nick slipped away before she could openly protest. A bottle of champagne circled the table and Raul received it from Billy, then filled both of their plastic cups.

Nick returned not long after, with Alex and Victor in tow. It was hard to look, at first, because her heart pounded in her chest. She hadn't seen Victor for almost two months. Would he be different? Would he be angry? She sat straight as a board, back turned to them, and guzzled her champagne. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dominic stand up to address them.

"Where were you?" he asked.

Nick volunteered first. "Alex was working on a training exercise—"

"Not you. I want to hear it from him."

"I was busy." Alex approached the table at an unsteady trajectory and smacked a plastic cup from the corner, which then careened toward the wall with a splash.

"Are you drunk?" Dominic asked.

The rest of their conversation faded away as a familiar presence made itself known behind her. She could feel him like a wave of heat, standing there. Raul turned to look, then climbed out of his seat and began taking dishes back to the kitchen. Octavia couldn't imagine what Victor had done, or what look he'd had on his face that made Raul move that quickly, but she told herself it was better not to look and find out for herself.