Beep…beep…beep
“I don’t understand how anyone can undercook chicken. It’s chicken!”
“I said I’m sorry already.” Alex chuckles. “Not like I did it on purpose.”
“Thirty seconds should do it?”
“Maybe a minute.”
“A minute?!”
The microwave beeps again. Kate removes the hot plate carefully with both hands on its outermost edges. “Ouch,” she whispers.
When she closes its door, the microwave’s light shuts off, leaving them both in the dark.
Kate is significantly taller than Alex, her long golden hair brushes onto Alex’s shoulders as they walk side by side. Alex wipes his eyes underneath his glasses, still feeling awkward even after all these years living together.
They make their way to Alex’s desk, where everything has been cleared except for the monitor. It serves as their only screen in their shared apartment. Their respective smaller plates are waiting, plastic cutlery on either side.
They sit down on their desk chairs, Alex’s squeaks loudly. “I have to get a better chair,” he says. Kate nods slightly.
Alex feels the words coming up his throat. Their low and center origin beats violently, refusing to let the matter go. He closes his eyes and braces himself. He clears his throat.
“Listen, Kate. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I-”
“Oh look. It’s still undercooked.” Kate says as she pokes at the piece of rotisserie chicken. “Gotta go cook it again.”
“No, Kate. Listen.” Alex whispers. He opens his eyes, turning left to see that the chair next to him is empty.
A sound calls him from outside the room.
Beep…beep…beep
Alex walks outside, staggering towards the sound. He smiles at the sight of Kate placing the plate back into the microwave.
Kate exclaims, “I don’t understand how anyone can undercook chicken. It’s chicken!”
Alex grins and says softly, “I said I’m sorry already.” He chuckles, “Not like I did it on purpose.”
“Thirty seconds should do it?” Kate asks but her eyes don’t leave the buttons in front of her.
“Maybe a minute.”
“A minute?!”
The microwave hums and turns. Neither of them faces the other, their eyes fixated on the spinning plate. Three loud beeps fill the room again. Kate removes the hot plate carefully with both hands on its outermost edges.
“Ouch,” she whispers.
They walk back to the office, sitting side by side at Alex’s desk. Alex feels the overwhelming urge again. His heart beats loudly til it reaches and vibrates his eardrums. He knows that this is his chance, his only chance to finally let it out. His eyes close involuntarily and he clears his throat.
“Listen, Kate. I love and I appreciate you, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I-”
“Oh look. It’s still undercooked.” Kate says loudly. “Gotta go cook it again.”
“No, Kate. Listen.” Alex whispers. He opens his eyes, turning left to see that the chair next to him is empty again.
Beep…beep…beep
Alex walks outside, his legs feel weak and heavy. He leans on the walls, dragging himself towards the sound. Kate is closing the microwave’s door, shaking her head slightly.
Kate exclaims, “I don’t understand how anyone can undercook chicken. It’s chicken!”
Alex can’t help but frown. He whispers, “I said I’m sorry already.” He softly brushes a tear away from the corner of his eye, “Not like I did it on purpose.”
“Thirty seconds should do it?” Kate asks, her fingers pressing the buttons in front of her.
“Kate, please. Listen to me. I need to tell you something.”
“You don’t think thirty seconds should do it?” Kate says out loud, seemingly to no one in particular.
“Kate, listen. I love you. I need you to know that I love you and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it like this. I just wish we had more time.” Alex says, his voice exasperated.
“I think thirty seconds should do it. Don’t you?” Kate says again, almost robotic.
Alex stifles a cry, “Kate please.” Kate doesn’t answer, her face is fixated on the plate in front of her. Alex croaks out, “Maybe a minute.”
“A minute?!” Kate says, pressing the start button.
The microwave hums and turns. Alex can’t bear to face Kate. From the corner of his eyes he sees the light from the microwave illuminate her face and her golden hair. His glasses start to turn wet, covered in his tears. Three loud beeps echo throughout the room. The sound is sharp, stabbing knives into Alex’s ears. Kate removes the hot plate carefully with both hands on its outermost edges.
“Ouch,” she whispers.
Kate makes her way into the office. Alex watches as the night light of the city paints her silhouette. Kate turns and disappears into the adjoining room. Alex can hear the soft click of the plate on the wooden desk. He makes his way to the office, waiting at the doorway, watching as Kate sits, unmoving on her chair.
Alex sighs, he takes his seat next to Kate. Instantly, his throat closes up. The warmth of Kate next to him feels overwhelmingly demanding. He can feel the pit in his stomach becoming wider and deeper, ready to consume him whole. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head wildly.
“I can’t,” he whispers.
Kate sits as still as a statue. Static, as if waiting for Alex to say the words.
Alex feels the pressure, his chest turns tight. The words build up from under him. He clears his throat.
“Kate. I wanted to tell you something. I love you and I appreciate everything you do and are for me. I wish we had more time. I don’t know if you feel the same. I wish I had told you sooner. But now I know I’m too late, yes, too late, there’s nothing I can do now. I’m so sorry but I have to tell you.”
Alex opens his eyes, he turns to his left, seeing the seat next to her empty.
“Kate?” he calls out. He waits for the sound to fill the room. The three identical beeps. The room stays still, as silent as a mute.
“Kate!” he calls out again. The room stays quiet. He rises to his feet, walking quickly towards the damned machine. Though this time, Kate isn’t there. No one is there.
“Kate?” he cries. “Where are you?” He searches the whole apartment. Finding each room empty. In the rounds he realizes how dark the apartment is, not a single lightbulb is on.
He runs back towards his desk. The two chairs are still sitting squarely in their spots. In front of them are the two small plates. Both are untouched. He takes a few steps forward.
The single large plate in the middle is carrying an object, though he doesn’t recognize it anymore. It resembles something familiar. A piece that is now long gone. A large piece of chicken. Its skin is dark, pitch black, overcooked through and through. Even without tasting or touching it, Alex knew its meat was tough as can be.
He reaches out to touch it, it’s ice cold. Instantly the panic rises within him, it takes over all his senses. The room becomes darker and darker, the air feels heavier, ready to crush him with its relentless pressure.
“Kate!” he calls out, falling onto the floor. “Kate!” he starts crying, hugging his knees close to his chest. He rocks himself back and forth, his body shaking wildly. He shakes his head vigorously. He shuts his eyes tight, letting the tears draw an abstract painting onto the carpeted floor. “Kate…” he calls out.
Beep…beep…beep…
He pulls his head up. He couldn’t believe the sound that he heard. He crawls on the floor and peeks his head outside. The room is still pitch black, he catches a hint of a silhouette moving into the bedroom.
He nods, suddenly his head feels clear of what to do.
He gets up and drags his feet towards his desk. His arms gently lifts the cold and large plate, it floats lightly in his hand. He walks out of the room confidently, approaching the machine, opening its door, carefully placing the plate on its glass surface.
The light within illuminates his face at once. Instantly he feels the warmth next to him, it sends a smile onto his face.
Kate’s voice booms around the room as she exclaims, “I don’t understand how anyone can undercook chicken. It’s chicken!”
Alex smiles and wipes away his tears. He whispers, “I said I was sorry.” He chuckles, “Not like any of this is on purpose.”