That's not salad, part 2

If you’re just joining us, jump back to part 1.

Saturday arrived with unsettled spring rains, and Sal wasn’t relishing going out again to meet a bunch of strangers.

With a sigh, she reached past Em to poke the concoction Em had spent the last few hours making.

Em swatted at her hand. “Stop that.”

She half-expected it to burst open. However, its shiny surface wobbled but didn’t break apart. “I don’t think that’s a salad.”

“Of course it is. The book said so.”

“I don’t think salads are supposed to jiggle like that.”

“I followed the instructions exactly.”

“But the recipes on the interwebs have more leaves.” Sal peered at the gelatinous green mass with bits and pieces suspended like stars in the night sky.

“If you don’t like my salad, you’re welcome to make the next contribution for the Desmond Street Business Association potluck.”

Sal recognized when she should keep her peace. “I’m sure you know best. And I know it will be delicious. It always is.”

Em futzed with a sprig of something green then stilled, abandoning the sprig. “Oh Sal, are you sure we should go?”

“You’re the one who insisted we should.”

Em’s nose wiggled. “And we should. Make friends.” She peered at Sal with her round eyes. “Allies.” Her fingers rapped the tabletop.

Sal wrapped her fingers around Em’s. “But?”

“But what if they find out? About us?”

“They won’t find out. You’ve been studying your books. I’ve been reading the interwebs.”

“You know it’s called the internet.”

Sal forged ahead. “And we’ve both been watching the TV. They won’t figure it out.”

“But what if they do?”

Sal reached out to stroke Em’s cheek. “Then we deal with it like we did before.”

“I don’t want to keep running, Sal.”

She wrapped her arms around Em and pulled her close. “Neither do I.”

After a minute, Sal sluggishly let Em go and stepped back. “Time to put your face on. Let’s look our best for these new allies.”

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“Em.” Meredith strode across the hall towards them, her smile bright. Tonight, a red scarf wrapped around her head. “Sal. I’m so glad you made it.” She let out a small gasp, and her hands did this thing where every finger spread out and stretched. “Jelly salad!” Her hands crossed over her chest. “I love jelly salad. Come, get something to eat, then I’ll walk you around.”

She led them to a long table set against one wall, groaning with platters and tureens and bowls, and handed them both plates.

Sal peered at the offerings. She leaned close to Em. “I think you might be right about salad.”

There was a lot of pasta, potatoes, eggs, and even some marshmallow concoction, but the only green leaves Sal noticed seemed to be garnish.

Just then, a man in a purple suit sidled up to the table and placed a giant bowl at the end that teemed with vegetables. He turned to see Sal studying him and his dish. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The offerings don’t tend to be super vegan-friendly. Luckily, I make a mean curried kale, candied walnut and cranberry salad.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Ah, you’ve met Charles. He’s our local cobbler.”

“You were in our shop earlier this week,” Em said over a plate piled high.

“I was.” He motioned towards the far end of the table. “I did that flower arrangement using that book.” He brought his hand to his chest and gave a small bow. “I’m Charles Emery.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sal, this is Em.” She gestured to Em, who pulled a stick out of her mouth.

“Nicechumeetcha.” She swallowed loudly. “Excuse me.”

“Not necessary, not at all.” He rubbed his hands together. “Time to dig in.”

The couple of hours flew by. Sal talked repairs with Alvin “Call me Al” Douglas and his husband, then learned all about bikes from Simon and Sara, twins who ran their parents’ bike shop. Next, she met Pranav, the owner of Pranav’s Pets, and they discussed the importance of reading with history. Finally, she found Em listening intently as May Lu, one of the dynamic duo behind the coffee shop, shared her cinnamon bun recipe.

As if sensing her, Em glanced her way, gracing her with a small smile. “You look … tired.”

“I’m exhausted.” She wrapped her arm around Em’s waist. “I’m not the extrovert you are.”

“We should go then.”

Sal shook her head. “Not before you have this recipe. It sounds delicious.”

“Oh, it is,” May said, with not a hint of conceit.

“But I don’t need the recipe. We can always go to the coffee shop.”

Sal insisted Em continue her discussion. “I’ll go help with the dishes. Then we can leave.”

It took another hour before Sal and Em could extricate themselves from the gathering. Walking home, the street was quiet. The night air had a nip to it, but the edge had softened, suggesting spring was waiting in the wings. The rain had stopped, and the sky cleared. Stars twinkled like shattered crystal.

Em sighed and looped her arm through Sal’s.

“Something wrong?” Sal asked after a few heartbeats.

“No, nothing is wrong.” Em was quiet for a few steps. “It’s quite lovely actually. I almost forget….” Her step barely stuttered, but Sal felt it through her arm.

“I know. So do I. But maybe this is it. Maybe this can be home.”

Em didn’t answer, just squeezed her arm.

Stay tuned for part 3.