The Enthusiasts

21

The clanging and bashing sounds of plates and cutlery landing in place settings around the extra-long table planted in the center of the kitchen resounded off the walls in every direction. Everyone seemed content as they moved around each other in near shoulder-to-shoulder intimacy with a harmonious energy flowing through the cramped open space that supposedly sectioned-off three separate rooms without the use of walls. The smell of something warm and fresh was in the air. A huge pot of soup with every variety of vegetable the team had harvested last year which had survived this late into the winter season along with some parts of the last pantry chicken and a few potatoes were swashing around inside some well-seasoned broth in the warming cauldron over the ceramic-topped stove burner.

"Is Sasha coming in?" Teddy asked Keith, who had been with her in the medic building most of the day before and after the basketball game.

"I don't think so. She seems convinced to not look after herself until that dog is able to look after himself," he responded.

An unspoken agreement had been festering through the crowd. Emerson asked Keith another question: "How's he doing? Do you think he's going to be up and moving around in a few days?"

"... I don't know. Anything's possible, but I don't understand how we're even considering bringing a mutt with us on this mission. It's not like he's trained or anything. He can't help us out at all except bark out our position to anyone around," Keith pointed out.

"Yeah, we have to put an end to this idea that we're bringing a dog with us," Coleman spouted out while placing down cutlery, wanting to take the role of a young man who was pressuring others to hear his voice as one of leaders in the dynamically shifting group. "When she showed up with him, I kind of understood, but we can't let something like that endanger us. Besides..." Coleman looked at Emerson, "you found him on the street and he was thriving just fine. It wasn't until that thing hitched a ride with Sasha that his life went south. He's safer out there than with us anyway."

Emerson sighed as he leaned over the steaming pot of aromatic delight brewing on the stove. "Yeah... Well, I'll talk to her."

"Talk to me about what?" Sasha's voice was heard to much surprise through the front door, which had been opened a crack without anyone noticing. The door was now all the way open and Sasha entered the kitchen.

"Oh, you're a creep. A professional creep, that's what you are," Emerson stated, turning his attention to her eavesdropping ways.

"Yeah, well I'm the only one you could be talking about. So, what was it you're wanting to say?" Sasha was ready to fight, then and there. Not the killing kind of fight... At least she didn't think so. Looking at Gabby playing Mother Hubbard had a less-enraging effect on her at the moment. She just wanted them all to know they were assholes for talking about her behind her back, or in this case, her front, with an ear pushed up against the door-jamb of the cracked open entrance she had been hiding behind moments earlier.

Emerson lied, "Nothing. Except for how tired you look, and that you need to eat something. Please join us." Emerson pulled out the chair at the end of the table next to him.

"No, I'm good. I just stopped in to grab a cloth." Sasha went next to the sink, and found she couldn't bring herself to keep her eyes off the giant pot. The warm, liquid aroma was so inviting. The swirling watery broth mesmerized her eyes for a moment. She grabbed a rag from beneath the sink and left the kitchen quickly without anyone saying another word to anyone while she was in the room. This was easy as no one but Emerson looked at her.

"You think she heard?" Teddy asked after hearing the door close.

"I'm sure she knows what we were discussing either way," Emerson said. He was concerned for her, yet already he'd mapped out his next move to smooth things over with her.