The sound of wind chimes made way for the sound of traffic lights, and as I stood there with the taste of Meeko on my lips, I had the urge to buy myself some toffee. Toffee for me, and blueberry muffins for her. And some wine, for life always tasted better with wine. The street was busy, and even though it was still morning, the heat of the day was unbearable. I could feel my flesh turning red, and when I wiped away the sweat from my forehead, it sizzled on my fingers like rashers of bacon frying in a pan.
“I’m going vegan” she once proclaimed. She had a look of defiance on her face, and as we sat at the table in the kitchen eating our breakfast, she pushed away her plate of meat while turning up her nose.
“Since when?” I asked while chewing a mouthful of sausage.
“Since I realised it’s not good to be eating a dead animal.”
Putting down my knife and fork, I looked at her from across the table, and she returned my gaze in silence while waiting for a response. I was wearing just my boxers, and she had on one of my old shirts that came down to her knees. It had seen better days, but on her, it worked as good as any dress.
“Yep. I’m done. From now on, I won’t be touching anything born from an animal’s suffering. It’s disgusting, and I won’t have anything to do with it, you hear?”
Swallowing my food, I washed it down with some beer and studied her as she sat before me. She had her serious face on, and that could only mean business.
“Well, I have to admire you,” I said, “it’s a big decision to make, and one I’m not sure I could pull off.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Well, because I’m not as strong as you, and besides, I’m not yet ready to make such a big commitment.”
“Just like you’re not yet ready to propose to me?”
Suddenly, I knew I was in danger. She had me cornered, and no amount of sarcasm could save me.
“Look, don’t start, okay? Let’s eat our breakfast in peace. If you want to go vegan, I’ll make you a jam sandwich if you like?”
Her glare told me I was in big trouble.
“So not only won’t you marry me, but you won’t support me on this, either? Well, if you think I’m going to sit here eating a fucking jam sandwich while you devour the remains of a dead pig you’ve got another thing coming,” and with that, she got up and whisked away my plate. Walking over to the bin, she chucked away my breakfast, plate included.
“For fuck sake, Meeko.”
“You disgust me” she snorted before storming into the bathroom and running herself a bath. “Don’t even think of touching me again until you apologise” she shouted from behind the door, “and by that, I mean for not supporting me with my lifestyle choice, and for not having the decency to make an honest woman of me.”
Sitting there at the table with a knife and fork in hand, but no food, I slumped into my chair, knowing it was going to be a long day. Her dietary change didn’t last long, however. Less than two weeks later, I caught her eating a hotdog from some vendor in town while I was on my way back from work. As she stood there devouring it with the same grace as a starved dog, I appeared from behind her and tried grabbing it from out of her hands. She was too nimble for me though and made her escape, and as I chased her all the way back to our apartment, every step of the way she tried finding an excuse for what she had done while hastily finishing off the foot-long wiener that was covered in as much ketchup and mustard as you could imagine.