The Warmth of Family Dinner

Dinner was lively and lovely.

It was the kind of meal that filled me with transcendent motivation. The laughter and warmth in a home that hadn’t had enough of either—it was just so addictive. The stew was nothing fancy, but it was hearty, and Val had brought over a sweet herbal bread that Cynthia couldn't stop picking at. She got crumbs everywhere. No one minded.

This was the first dinner since I arrived in this world that the household was complete.

Valray, to her credit, caught on quick that I didn’t want Meredi catching wind of my recent trek into the marshes. She’d raised an eyebrow when I mentioned "restocking" a few reagents sold at the gate and gave me a slow blink, but when Meredi asked about it, Val cut in to tell her how she spotted me at that time. She carried the conversation from there, drawing Cynthia and Meredi into a little back-and-forth about the ridiculous things that are sold just a few paces over at the Slants.

Ravela kept quiet most of the dinner. Not distant—just content. She watched her daughter laugh, sometimes leaned over to whisper a joke into my ear, and sometimes gave Meredi this look that was half teasing and half admiration.

I understood through the memories that Ravela had a real weak spot for Valray. She had no doubt held many valuable things in her life, but none would ever compare to even a smidge of Valray.

As I always knew, Ravela was a true Momma Goddess.

***

The dinner table was empty and I was elbow-deep in a metal sink of hot water and soap, watching bubbles slip around the edges of a blackened pan.

Val was still here. She and Cynthia had started on some story about someone’s botched smuggling run involving a feral goat, and Meredi was laughing—full-bellied, leaning back in her chair, looking younger than I’d ever seen her.

I could’ve watched them all night.

I heard the quiet pat of boots behind me and felt a presence ease in close at my side. Ravela, a clean towel slung over one shoulder, reached past me to grab a plate from the drying rack and began dabbing it dry.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she said. There was a beat of silence before she added, soft enough that only I could hear: “Val’s staying here tonight.”

She trailed off. I glanced at her. Her eyes were still on the plate, hands precise, but I heard a hint of guilt in her voice.

“It’s alright,” I said, smiling. “Spend time with your daughter. You never know when you won’t have the chance anymore.”

She looked up at me, eyebrows raised. “Dark thing to say while washing dishes.”

“Dishwashing is where all the grim truths come out,” I said.

She shook her head but smiled. “Thanks… for understanding.”

I rinsed another bowl and passed it her way. “Sounds like you had plans for me, though. Will you allow me to be disappointed?”

That got me a sharp look. And then, a slow grin pulled at her lips. She bumped her hip into mine.

I staggered half a step to the side—just barely kept from losing my balance, thanks to my recent workout routine—and laughed.

“You used to fall over from that,” she said.

“I’ve been working out.”

“ I noticed. Buffing up for Meredi?”

“And you too.”

“Tch. Your ambitions are dangerous.”

A soft kind of hush fell between us then. It was the sort of quiet that sneaks in when two people are very close and very aware of it. I could hear the others still talking in the sitting room. But here, in the warm glow of the lantern over the sink, with her elbow brushing mine and her fingers brushing a plate just after mine had, it felt like we had hidden away from everything else.

Just little moments like these—if I could have a series of these moments until the end of time… Was I too greedy?

I snuck a glance at her. She snuck a glance at me. We both chuckled.

“Keep your eyes on your plate,” she said.

“I will if you do,” I joked back.

***

The card game started after the dishes were done. Meredi dusted off an old deck she claimed had survived the old world, though I suspected it had just survived a few too many evenings of Ravela cheating. Cynthia insisted she was going to humiliate me. Val kept winning and humiliated us both. I kept pretending I wasn’t trying, but was seething on the inside. At least I stopped Cynthia from winning.

At some point, Val yawned and stood up, announcing that she was turning in.

“I’ll be out of here bright and early, Aunt Meredi,” she said with the smirk she inherited from Ravela.

Meredi offered to set up the cot, but Ravela interrupted and said she’d handle it. I didn’t think much of it until I noticed she hadn’t come back.

After losing another round, I excused myself to use the washroom. The hallway was dim, quiet except for the low voices coming from one of the rooms.

I slowed when I passed the door. Ravela and Val’s room. It was only cracked open, just enough for the light to spill through.

“...you’re not in trouble, are you?” Valray asked.

Ravela scoffed, but I could hear the tension beneath it. “Since when have I been in trouble?”

“Mom,” Val said, gently. “You’ve been lighter on your feet tonight. I just want to make sure that you didn’t get your hands on something that might put you on the other side of my spear.”

A threat? From daughter to mother? And a dramatic one at that? I couldn’t step away now. If Rav was in trouble, I had to help.

There was a pause, and then a soft breath.

“It’s nothing like that,” Ravela said, voice low. “Nothing that would make you worry. Nothing that would ever put us on opposite sides.”

Val let out a sigh of relief. “Is it something normal then?”

“Hehe, sort of… I might be the one making it more complicated than it needs to be.”

I didn’t mean to be listening. And I didn’t want to hear any more.

I moved on, quick and quiet, and closed the washroom door behind me with care.

Was it me? Was I the reason she seemed lighter?

Don’t get full of yourself, I told myself.

Still, I was buzzing from our moment at the dishes. I thought about how close she’d stood, and how soft her voice had gone when it was just the two of us. I thought about her impish smile.

I shook my head and rinsed my hands. Then I apologized—quietly, and inwardly—for eavesdropping at all.

Some things, no matter how tempting, aren’t meant to be overheard.