WHO: Padma (with appearance of Anthony) WHERE: Padma and Lavender's flat WHEN: Saturday, April 2 (backdated) WHAT: What greiving is to Padma RATING: G-PG
The lentils were simmering in a pot on the stove—bland as she could make them without them turning out tasteless. She didn't want to overwhelm Mandy's children with spice. The second batch of chickpeas had another half hour left, and the first half were already separated into several large food containers. Two for Mandy, one for Anthony, one for her and Lavender to eat the next day. She made a note to see if she could send any to Kevin, Michael if Lavender found him. It seemed insufficient, sending food, but focusing on the pain wasn't going to see any of them through this. So, Padma let her hands focus on the meditative task before her.
The fresh paneer felt cold and solid—and with the world around her ripping at the seams, the cool cheese grounded her. It was tangible. It was maleable. It was stable. Cooking calmed her. She'd made enough food to feed anyone who would accept it. She began to cube the paneer. She hated to fry hers, prefering the consistency as it was. And while part of her wanted nothing more than to ball both her hands into fists and smash them into the paneer, if just for a moment to release all her emotions, Padma kept cubing. Today was for cooking. Tomorrow was for everything else.
She added the paneer to the saag, stirring it gently until it was soft, before packaging it up for Mandy and the twins. Washing her hands, she moved to her journal. Her fingers drifted over Anthony's last words, and she focused on them. She hadn't seen him at all since the incident. Thinking back, she hadn't seen him since Wednesday night. She worried about him—he and Terry had always been so close. She had a hard time picturing most of their futures these days, but she's always held a fond image of Terry and Anthony as best mates well into their liverspot years.
She was glad he was coming over because it would mean the food would get to Mandy and her family still warm and fresh, but she couldn't deny that a cery large part of her needed to just lay her hands on his chest and feel that he was still as solid and present as he had been days before. She closed her journal and finished bundling up everything she wanted him to take with him. When she had everything wrapped, she stopped to look about the kitchen, hands and eyes immediately searching fo rmore to do. Finding nothing, she felt her fingers start to shake, almost dancing in nervous agitation.
When her eyes pricked, she inhalled hard through her nose, and brought her hands to her face, fingertips pressing hard against her eyes. She took a another steadying breath, and pressed her lips together hard. Hands dropping and balling into fists, she grabbed her wand and a dishtowel, and started to clean the kitchen counter. Anything to delay the tears she knew were going to overwhelm her the moment she laid down for the night. For now, though, they had to stay at bay. She wasn't crying when Anthony was on his way. He needed something strong and solid, he needed food and comfort. She wasn't sending him off to Mandy's with her greiving energy thrust upon him. That was for later, for being alone and focusing on it for what it was.
She dashed a fingertip across the path of two tears sneaking past her lashes, and blinked to clear the rest of the moisture. She took another deep breath and let her hands focus on the meditative task before her.