“If I got anything out of this relationship, it is cheek meat.”
We will be having rainbow snapper for dinner. Kay had bought them at a fish monger on Saturday on a whim. They were pin-striped in a shimmer of chilly gold and pale and their eyes sparkling wildly, as if caught half-way through a high-speed chase. Having spent the weekend in a paper bag shoved into the back of our refrigerator, they were still remarkably fresh.
I knew exactly what I wanted to do with such pretty fish. I wanted to see them in a golden pool of saffron-scented broth with their narrow tails jutting above the side of the bowl. That would be the proper end to the day.
It had been a tough day at work for both of us, and we both needed a quick reminder at how lucky we are. I can rarely complain about work, since doing so raises many more eyebrows than hands to heart. I run a wine school, after all. How hard can that be? I have to agree, if begrudgingly, that I ought not complain too much, lest I have to find a real job in the future.