APRIL FICTION

Chris Galvin, Lily Po and Roberta Xylophone. 

For the Love of Mushrooms
by

Chris Galvin

They are fighting again. Matteo buys three kinds of mushrooms to make Sarah’s favourite frittata. He slices the porcini, cremini and pale button mushrooms, and sautés them with garlic in olive oil until they are a delicate gold. Putting them aside to cool briefly, he beats the eggs, then stirs in the mushrooms and pours it all into the pan. He takes it off the heat while the frittata is still creamy on top.

“Saaaarah! Sarah, where are you?” He calls his wife as he opens the Chianti.  Like his mother, he pairs everything with Chianti. He lights two candles and shakes out an elaborate lace table cloth, yellowed from long storage. He hears the settee springs squeaking and Sarah shuffles into the kitchen, her face partly obscured by her long, dark hair.

”What? What now?” She sees the table and falls silent.

Wordless, they dine, then move to the settee. They sit in the dark, gazing out through the Palladian window at the sky. They watch Orion rising. Just like the night I met her, Matteo thinks.

Later, in the cool bedroom, he awakens, stomach growling. Feels his way down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky middle of the sixth step. He stands naked in the rectangle of light from the open fridge. The leftover mushrooms have grown out of their trays. They wave and gyrate with life, growing still larger even as he watches. Their questing, thread-like mycelia have colonized the bowlful of something forgotten and mouldy at the back of the shelf.

Matteo eyes the mushrooms, and knows that he and Sarah will never fight again. He pictures the dinners he will cook for her. Crostata with cremini and pancetta, porcini sformato, his Sicilian grandmother’s spezzatino—he begins to salivate, and takes a few of the mushrooms and an egg to make a mini omelet, which he puts between two slices of country bread. He devours the sandwich and returns to bed.

Sarah stirs in her sleep. Awakens to see Matteo’s wiry form filling the doorway, silhouetted in the streetlamp light shining through the hallway window. She wrinkles her nose at the musty smell that he brings with him into the room. The earth scent grows stronger as he lifts the comforter and slides in beside her, his skin cool and smooth. He wraps his arms around her and presses one leg over her thigh. She relaxes into his embrace, tilting her face towards his to kiss him.

Matteo’s mouth is filled with feathery gills. Gasping, Sarah jerks her head away. Tendrils of mycelia reach outwards to comfort her.  Matteo shudders with excitement, spores falling from his mouth onto her eyelids. He envelops her in a creeping netting of hyphae. No, they would never argue again.