Diner tale

The diner was pretty full, and in the thirty minutes since placing their order, their stained china mugs had been refilled twice and they'd managed to divide most of the big household items. Shan had brought a list, and they'd discussed the list items reasonably. The maple dining room set would go to Laura, since it'd been her grandmother's. Shan would take the queen sized bed, practically new. No one had gotten upset or raised their voice. Laura figured things were going well.

The wool rug from Turkey was next on the list when the food arrived.

"Fried egg sandwich on rye?" The waitress glared at them expectantly. Shadowed eyes, rounded baby bump jutting out several inches above her low-slung, ketchup-streaked apron. At least, Laura hoped it was ketchup.

"Here," said Laura, waving one hand a bit, and two plates clattered down on the tabletop. Clouds of steam rose from mounds of glistening fried potatoes.

Shan picked at the omelette on his plate, its belly bloated with filling ingredients. Laura could make out bits of spinach and tomato, and something dark.

"Are those mushrooms?" Laura asked.

She didn't recall Shan liking mushrooms. It'd been only four weeks since he had packed a few things, his clothes and their good frying plan, the one they'd used for Sunday eggs, into his Volvo and moved across town, and she didn't think four weeks was nearly long enough to turn a person into an eater of a food they had previously avoided at all costs.

"Yeah." He put down his fork and reached for his mug. "So, we were talking about the rug."

Laura continued at stare at the semi-translucent omelette. "I loved Turkey," she said.

Uncalled images flashed before her. Tiny glasses of tea and plates of pilaf. Watching Shan make friends with locals fishing along a bridge in Istanbul. She and Shan laughing with the rug seller as they bantered goodnaturedly over the price. Laura handing the man her credit card, unsure of the security of this decision. Turned out okay.

Loud laughter filled the restaurant, and a few heads turned. A woman carrying a large cardboard box in her arms was trying to get through the door. The doorway was narrow and a corner of the box bumped it a few times. Laura watched the woman's blonde curls bounce as she was pushed back again and again.

Shan watched her too, and when the woman finally squeezed through the doorway with more wide-mouth laughter, Laura read the logo printed on the box. Michelle's Mushrooms. She watched the woman glance in their direction. And wink.

Suddenly Laura got it. The whole damn thing.

"That rug is mine," she said, and left him with the bill, the cardboard box, the mushroom lady, and nothing else.