She climbed down from the table. There was still plenty of firewood in the cabin, because William had expected her to stay inside all day. Mattie assembled the firewood and lit the kindling, feeling terribly daring as she did. She was only allowed to start the fire if William was watching.
Her stomach rumbled. The bread and cheese and butter were still on the dining table, just as she’d left them, and there was enough water for tea.
Mattie bustled around, slicing the bread and cheese, tending the fire, preparing the kettle and putting it over the flame. She felt soothed by the normalcy of it, the routine of doing chores. She set out two plates, just like she always did, and two cups for the tea, and when the water boiled she poured it out.
She noticed then that C.P. wasn’t in his fugue state any longer, but watching her with a curious expression on his face. Was it pity? Mattie felt herself flush. She didn’t need his pity. She didn’t deserve it, either.
“Sit . . . down . . . and . . . eat . . . something,” she said. She felt ashamed of the meager offering, unable to explain that William kept all the food in the storehouse under lock and key. They only had this much because he’d been in a generous mood, thinking that once he killed the demon he’d return home, the triumphant hunter.
And the triumphant hunter would then get sons on his little wife.
She felt the gorge rise in her throat but she swallowed it down. She didn’t need to submit to him anymore. Never again.
C.P. looked at the neat assembly of sliced bread and sliced cheese and the plate of butter Mattie had put out.
“We could make grilled cheese sandwiches with what you’ve got there. You have a pan, right?”
“Grilled cheese,” Mattie said, and she had a sense memory so strong it made her sway on her feet. Crunchy bread that tasted of butter and a thick layer of melted yellow cheese, still hot from the pan, and next to it a bowl of soup and the noodles in the soup were shaped like letters.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, making a movement like he was going to help her stand.
Mattie waved him away, closing her eyes. She could almost still smell the soup, taste the bread on her tongue.
“We don’t have to make it if you don’t want to,” C.P. said. “I just thought it might be better than cold bread.”
“We . . . can,” she said. “But . . . I . . . don’t . . . know . . . how.”
“Oh, well, I can do that. I can make four things in the kitchen without a microwave, and grilled cheese is one of them. Well, five things if you count cold cereal, but is it really making food if you just pour the cereal in a bowl and put milk on top? Sometimes I don’t even put the milk in, either, just eat the cereal out of the bowl like chips. That’s usually only if I have sugar cereal, though—you know, the stuff kids like to eat. Griff says it’s gross, that I have the habits of a four-year-old.”
He’d started buttering slices of bread while he talked, and at the mention of Griffin he faltered for a moment, his hands going slack. Then he started up again, with more energy.
“Can you put the pan over the fire, please? You’re lucky I’ve cooked over a fire before when we’ve been camping, otherwise who knows how these would turn out.”
Mattie didn’t respond as he chattered away, but he didn’t seem to need her to do so. He was filling the space with words so he wouldn’t have to think. She knew that. She placed the heavy pan on the fire on the same grate that she used to fry eggs.
He carried one plate full of cheese slices and buttered bread over to the fire. Mattie watched as he put the bread into the pan. It sizzled immediately, filling the air with the scent of browning butter, and C.P. laid a slice of cheese on each slice of bread.
“Gotta keep a good eye on it with a cast iron pan like this,” he said. “The bread could burn before the cheese melts. I need a spatula or something, and a clean plate for the sandwich.”
Mattie handed him the turner she used for the eggs and after a very brief time he flipped the two bread slices together and then took the sandwich out and put it on a plate.
“Ta-da!” he said, and handed it to Mattie before repeating the process twice more.
“I always make two sandwiches,” he said. “One isn’t enough for me. It would be awesome if you had some bacon and tomato. That’s the best way to make a grilled cheese—cheddar, bacon and tomato. Although sometimes I like to get really fancy and use mozzarella and prosciutto. Griff got this fig butter from Trader Joe’s and I put it on a mozzarella and prosciutto sandwich and it came out ah-may-zing.”