Jonquil and Marigold

‘Dammit!’ she muttered, rummaging in the dingy cupboards beneath the sink. There were no other waste disposal containers; how he could live like this was beyond her. After cringing every time something unidentifiable touched her hands, she managed to grab hold of a plastic bag.

The front door slammed shut, startling her. ‘Jo!’ a voice rang out. ‘I’m in the kitchen, you don’t have to yell when you enter, man!’ she shouted back, nose scrunching as she dropped the remains of her banana into the bag. ‘And when are you planning to get a waste basket, Goldie? You live in a fucking pig-sty!’

Goldie was sheepish when he rounded the corner to enter the kitchen. ‘Eh, I’ll take care of it. What’d you have for lunch?’ he asked, peering curiously at the black bag Jo held. She dropped it to the floor with mild disgust. ‘A banana,’ she said nonchalantly, avoiding his eyes. The money in her bank account had been lesser than she’d expected after checking the same morning; guilt had goaded her into skipping a meal. But if Goldie knew this, he’d kick her ass faster than she could make an argument for it.

‘What? Are you serious?! Dude, you’ve been writing your essay all morning. You must be starving!’

‘Mind your own business,’ she snapped. Desperate to change the subject, she threw her hands out to indicate the entire kitchen. ‘I’m more interested in how you’ve been keeping your house, Goldie. The fridge needs to be scrubbed down, the water container is empty again…and did you know that cockroaches live in your shelves? Seriously, you’ve got to start taking better care of yourself!’

‘Mind your own business,’ he returned, albeit more good-naturedly. Pulling out a can of HIT, he sprayed the corners of the room, shoving her out at the same time. Then, he snatched up a cloth hanging off the soap-dispenser ledge and gave the smelly counter a perfunctory cleaning.

‘Alllll done!’ Goldie sang cheerfully, tossing the cloth back in place. He washed his hands and turned around to grin at Jo. She rolled her eyes back. ‘Okay, I just got off work. Wanna get a shawarma?’

‘Nah,’ Jo said, walking into the living room with Goldie at her heels. ‘I got stuff to do. You can go ahead, it’s cool.’ Then she let out an indignant squawk as Goldie tugged the short hair on her head to pull her towards the front door. ‘Let’s go, dude. Stop glaring so much, no guy is ever going to date you with a face like that.’

‘I don’t need a guy, Goldie!’

‘A girl, then,’ he chuckled. ‘Okay, okay!’ Ducking away from her furious smack to his shoulder, he opened the door and stepped out. ‘C’mon. It’ll be fun. I’ll pay, I need to break this thousand-rupee note. Bonus day today!’ He grinned widely at Jo.

For a moment, Jo stared back, gulping. The promise of Goldie paying was enticing; being taken care of, having everything handled by a grown-up, no fretting about the ridiculous amount she was spending on food in Mumbai…

‘No, it’s okay. I’ll just get some lime soda. I’m not very hungry,’ she said, glum-faced. They shut the door and waited for the old elevator, bickering about where to go.

They returned around 9 o’clock in the evening, Goldie exhausted from the pressures of the day. He threw himself onto his mattress, asleep in minutes after scrolling through some cat memes. And Jo, the growling in her stomach sated by Goldie’s second shawarma – after she’d scolded him for buying it despite being full from the first, of course – sat down to work on her essay.

Later, she cleaned the kitchen thoroughly and went to bed, tossing a blanket over Goldie on the way.