I faltered while slicing the vegetables. He made it sound like I was a housekeeper or nanny that he and Ivory could order around whenever they wanted. Even the boiling water seemed to be urging me to get on with my chores.
I was about to season the broth when Ivory suddenly squealed, “Don’t use that brand of salt! It’s unhealthy to consume too much of that; I’m not going to drink the broth!”
I’d already sprinkled the salt in. She pouted and turned to tug on Harold’s shirt. “Look at what Minnie did, Harry!”
Harold immediately stormed toward me. “Did you do that on purpose, Minerva? Make another pot of broth the way Ivy likes it!”
As he spoke, he lifted the pot of chicken noodle soup that was already done. He wanted to pour it away.
My mind was elsewhere, so I didn’t move. His hands gave out from the weight of the pot, and half the scalding broth ended up on my arm.
He panicked and turned on the tap, putting my arm under it to let the running water cool down the burn. “Look at what you made me do! Do we have any ointments for burns at home? I’ll get it. You continue cooling the burn.”
When he found the ointment and unscrewed it to apply it for me, Ivory called his name in grievance from the living room. “I’m starving, Harry. My stomach hurts.”
“Let’s go eat, then.” Harold threw the ointment at me without hesitation. Then, he headed to her and pulled her out of the apartment.
When they reached the door, she suddenly asked, “Wouldn’t it be too rude not to bring Minnie with us?”
Harold looked uncaring. “It’s her fault for standing there like a mannequin. She wouldn’t have gotten burned otherwise. Anyway, she’s the one who can’t even cook a meal properly. Let’s just forget about her and go eat. She can starve for all I care.”
The door shut behind them. I stood there, feeling like my stomach was starting to hurt again. The burn on my arm didn’t feel any better despite running it under cold water, too.
The sound of the water was all I could hear. Suddenly, I remembered that I’d yet to call off the wedding.
