The Dish That Ran Away with the Spoon

Written by Catherine Medina

Friday evening buzzed with life and mischief. The lake mirrored twilight’s warm hues as Matisha sat by the water, her ceramic edges gleaming. Nearby, Jess and Leslie lounged. Tonight was a big event: the cow swore he was going to jump over the moon.

“I’m telling you, Tish,” Eric said, his silver form catching the fading light, “Josh swears he saw Mr. El practice all last week until he actually did it.” His grin was so confident it bordered on absurdity. Tish rolled her eyes.

“Last week, Josh swore he saw a cat play the fiddle better than Hendrix.” Leslie chuckled, picking at a crust from her sandwich.

“Don’t knock it, Tish. Look at him. He’s got that ‘nothing can stop me’ look.” Matisha chuckled and ran her finger along a tiny crack on her ear, wincing slightly at its rough edge. She hadn’t even noticed it until earlier that day when Leslie pointed it out, teasing her about being “fragile.” Now, the thought of it gnawed at her, a reminder of how easily she could chip under pressure.

“Does it hurt?” Eric’s voice broke her spiraling thoughts. She looked up to see him watching her with an intensity that made her feel seen, even when she wanted to disappear.

“No,” she lied, folding her hands in her lap. “It’s just— nothing.”

Eric raised a skeptical eyebrow, his handle an arc of unspoken wisdom. Without a word, he sat up straight and gently took her hand. His metal fingers traced the crack with surprising tenderness, his touch cool but steady.

“You can’t ignore stuff like this,” he said, his voice soft, but insistent. “Small cracks get worse if you don’t take care of them.”

Tish watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube of ceramic sealant. She blinked in surprise. “You carry that around?”

Eric shrugged, his grin sheepish. “Never know when someone might need it.”

Her laugh came before she could stop it– light and bubbling like a creek breaking over rocks. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, carefully applying the sealant. “But I’m also right.”

She felt his fingers work with a precision that belied his casual demeanor. When he was done, he leaned back, inspecting his work with a satisfied nod. “Good as new. Almost.”

Tish rubbed her ear. The crack was smooth, and the pain eased. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.

Eric winked. “What are friends for?”

But it was more than that. In his simple, unassuming way, Eric had seen a flaw she was desperate to hide — and rather than judge her for it, he’d fixed it. That thought lingered, settling somewhere deep in her chest as the conversation around the picnic table swirled back to life.

Tish glanced at the cow, who stood at the bottom of a precarious ramp, adjusting his oversized goggles with determined hooves. She snorted. “If he jumps over the moon, forks have to stop stabbing salads.” They all laughed.

Eric leaned closer, his spoon-handle elbow nudging her side. “You’re such a skeptic. All it takes is a dream and a little faith.”

“Faith won’t fix physics,” she replied, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

The truth was, she wasn’t thinking about the cow or his impossible leap. Her mind was tangled in the argument she’d had with her parents earlier that evening — a fight that left her hollow and dazed.

“Matisha,” her mother said, closing the door to Tish’s bedroom with a soft click, her father close behind her. Her mother’s tone was gentle, but her eyes held a weight that tightened Tish’s chest.

“What is it?” Tish asked, though, a part of her already knew.

“We need to talk,” her mother began, glancing uneasily at her father, who loomed in the doorway like a storm cloud. “About Eric.”

Tish stiffened. “What about him?”

“You’re graduating soon,” Mother continued, her voice strained. She sat beside Matisha on the bed, “You need to start thinking about your future. Someone suitable. Someone like–”

“A fine china plate? A casserole dish? Let me guess: anyone but Eric.”

Her father stepped forward, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Exactly. Eric is fine for friendship, but you’re a dish, Matisha. You have a duty to–”

“A duty to what? Marry someone with the same glaze? Build a matching set of my own, like you two?”

Her father’s voice boomed, rising like a windowless tower over hers. “You don’t understand the damage you’re doing. The whispers. The shame. This family has a reputation.”

“And I have a life! And it’s mine to live, it’s my future. I have to live with those decisions, not you,” Tish shot back, angry and pleading.

The room fell silent. For a moment, her mother’s gaze softened, but her father’s expression darkened.

“You love…” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Tish stood quietly, close to her still seated mother, her hands at her sides. Her heart was racing.

“You’re in love with that–”

“Say it,” Tish interrupted, her voice trembling. “Say what you mean.”

Her father’s breath became heavy, like a bull ready to charge. “How long has this been going on?”

“A while,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. Her mother rose cautiously. She positioned herself between the two of them.

The door slammed behind her father when he left with a finality that made the room feel smaller, suffocating. Tish stood in place, her chest tight with both anger and fear, the weight of the argument still pressing on her. Her mother lingered by the door, silent for a long moment, before she moved toward the bed. She ushered Tish to sit with her, her posture stiff as though she were holding herself together by sheer will alone.

“I never wanted this for you,” her mother said softly, her voice laced with wariness. “Not the secrecy. Not the fear. You deserve better than this.”

Tish let out a sharp breath, her frustration boiling over. “Better? Like what? Marrying some boring plate so I can pretend to be happy while you and Dad pat yourselves on the back for keeping up appearances?”

Her mother flinched but didn’t look away. Instead, she reached for Tish’s hand, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over her daughter’s skin. “You think I don’t understand, don’t you?” she whispered. “That I’ve never felt what you feel now.”

Tish hesitated, caught off guard by the crack in her mother’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

Her mother looked past Tish to some distant memory that seemed to hang on the wall behind them. “There was someone once,” she began, her voice low and steady, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Before your father. He wasn’t from the right family. He wasn’t a dish at all.” She let out a dry, humorless laugh. “He wasn’t what anyone wanted for me, but he made me feel… alive. Like I could be more than just what everyone expected me to be.”

Tish stared at her, her breath catching. “What happened?”

Her mother’s lips tightened, and she looked down at their joined hands. “I made a choice,” she said, her tone firm but tinged with regret. “I chose your father. I told myself it was the right thing to do — for my family, for my future. And maybe it was. I’ve wondered, sometimes, what happened to him. If he found someone who made him as happy as he made me. But…” She looked at Tish again, her eyes sharper now, clearer. “I chose the life that made sense, Tish. The life that gave me stability, a family, a future I could count on. It wasn’t always easy, but it was the smart choice.”

Tish’s heart twisted. “So, what? You’re saying I should do the same? That I should just forget about Eric because he doesn’t fit into your perfect picture of what my life should be?”

Her mother shook her head, her grip on Tish’s hand tightening. “No. I’m saying you need to be sure. Sure that what you’re fighting for is worth what you’re giving up. Because once you choose, there’s no going back.” Her voice softened, but the intensity in her gaze remained. “I don’t regret my choice, Tish. I built a life with your father — a life that brought me you. But I had to let go of something precious to do it. And I’ve had to live with that. You will too, no matter which path you take.”

Tish swallowed hard, her resolve wavering under the weight of her mother’s words. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I can’t live my life for other people, Mom. I have to live for myself.”

Her mother’s expression softened, a flicker of something like pride crossing her face. “Then think about what you’re running toward, and what you’re leaving behind. Don’t let your anger make this decision for you. And don’t let love blind you to what comes after the leap.”

Tish nodded, her throat tight. She could feel the truth in her mother’s words, even as her heart rebelled against them. “I’ll think about it,” she promised, her voice barely audible.

Her mother stood slowly. “I can’t stop you, Tish. But I hope you understand that every choice comes with a cost. Make sure the life you’re choosing is worth it.”

Tish stood too, hesitating for a moment before pulling her mother into a fierce hug. “I love you, Mom.”

Her mother held her tightly, as though letting go would be the hardest thing she’d ever do. “I love you too, sweetheart,” she whispered.

Her mother’s words stayed with her, echoing in her mind: Every choice comes with a cost. Make sure it’s worth it.

“Tish?” Eric’s voice pulled her back to the present.

“My dad knows,” she said softly, her fingers twisting the edge of the picnic table.

“Knows what?”

“About… us.” Eric’s grin vanished.

“What did he say?”

“He was furious. He stomped out of my room, talking to himself. I think…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I saw a box of rounds on the counter when I left.”

“Rounds? For his shotgun?”

“Yeah…”

Eric took a deep breath. Intertwined his fingers with hers. “We knew this might happen.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. He’s just mad.”

Eric turned toward the ramp, where the cow was preparing for his leap. The crowd murmured with anticipation; their excitement oblivious to the storm brewing in Tish’s chest.

“We can’t stay here,” he said. “If he finds me–”

“He won’t,” Tish broke him off. She sighed. She searched the table for courage. “Let’s leave tonight. We already have a plan to be together. Let’s go, tonight.”

Eric’s eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”

The crowd roared as Mr. El launched himself into the air, his hooves slicing through the night sky like comets. Against all disbelief, he soared into the sky, over the moon, his silhouette framed in silver light.

Tish watched in amazement. The townsfolk began to move toward the direction where Mr. El might have landed. Voices faded.

Tish’s gaze shifted back to Eric. “Yes,” she said, her voice steady. “If Mr. El can defy physics, we can do anything.”

She smiled, scared. He smiled, encouraged. He kissed her forehead. They rose and joined the others.

Just before midnight, Tish climbed out of her window, something of a habit for her. She rendezvoused with Eric at the lake. Without a word, they disappeared into the forest’s embrace, the faint glow of the town’s lights slowly dissolving behind them. Every rustling leaf, every snapping twig, sent Tish’s heart racing. The air was cool and heavy, carrying a mild scent of pine and damp earth. An hour passed in near silence, their few words barely more than whispers when they spoke.

“Oh, my god.” Tish stopped walking abruptly.

Eric turned towards her. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my bag!”

“I have supplies in this bag,” he pointed to his back.

“No, we have to go back for it.”

“What? No, I have supplies.” His spoon-handle shoulders stiffened.

“Eric, we need the money in my backpack. I can’t believe I left it.” She sank onto a rock.

Eric paced back and forth for a moment. “I’ll go. You hide out here until I get back. If someone sees me, they’ll also see you’re not with me.”

“If my dad sees you–” Tish paused. “It’s my house. I’ll be faster.” She stood.

Eric’s jaw tensed. His hesitation was visible even in the dim light. “Ok, but I’m going with you.”

They turned back, moving more swiftly now, every step measured and deliberate. The distant lights of the town grew brighter with each step, a reminder of how far they’d gone and had to return. As they approached the house, Tish’s heart beat so loudly she was sure Eric could hear it. Her hands were clammy, and her breath came shallow and fast. The windows were dark, but she could hear faint voices from inside, her father’s, sharp and angry, and her mother’s, softer but strained. They crouched low beside the azalea bushes near the walkway leading up to the house.

“I’ll go,” Eric whispered, his voice steady despite the tension.

“I can do it,” Tish said, grabbing his arm. Her grip was firmer than she intended, but she couldn’t let him take the risk.

Tish moved quickly and quietly, her feet barely making a sound as she crossed the yard. Tish crept to her window, her hands shaking as she slid it open. The faint squeak of the frame sounded like a gunshot in the stillness. She listened. The muffled voices inside continued elsewhere in the house.

She slipped inside, her room hauntingly familiar. It was the same: her books neatly stacked on the desk, the patchwork quilt her grandmother made draped over the bed. But, in just an hour, it became alien, like she didn’t belong anymore. A relic of a life she was leaving behind. She reached under the bed and pulled out the bag she had packed weeks ago in a moment of quiet defiance. Every dime and dollar of her allowance saved from the last 6 months was tucked inside. She slung it over her shoulder, ready to leave, but the soft creak of the door opening rooted her in place.

“Tish?” her mother whispered, her silhouette outlined by the soft golden glow from the hallway.

“Mom?”

“What are you doing?” Her mother’s voice was quiet but trembling, as though she already knew the answer.

“I have to go, Mom,” Tish whispered. “I can’t stay here.”

Her mother’s face crumpled. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“Mom, please, give us your blessing.” Tish pleaded, swallowing the urge to cry.

Her mother shook her head. “Your father would never let–”

“Then you let me go,”

Tears stained the bottom of their faces. Her mother slowly found her spot in front of Tish. She cupped her daughter’s wet face, “Go. Before he comes to find you gone.”

Tish sighed. Smiled lightly. Her mother hugged her tightly, knowing tonight was their last night together. Her mother whispered, “I love you, Matisha, so much,” as Tish climbed back out the window, the words following Tish into the night like a prayer.

Back in the forest, Tish and Eric resumed their escape. Every step felt heavier than the last, Tish’s round shape making it harder to maneuver through the dense undergrowth. Twigs and low-hanging branches seemed drawn to her edges, snagging on the delicate curve of her ceramic sides and leaving small, jagged chips behind. Eric moved with ease, his lean, angular frame slicing through the underbrush like an arrow. He barely seemed to touch the ground, his long strides unencumbered by the obstacles that tripped Tish at every turn. Her heart pounded as she struggled to keep up, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Hours passed.

“Eric, slow down!” she called, panic creeping into her voice as the forest seemed to close in around her. He stopped immediately, turning back. His spoon-handle arms reached out to steady her as she stumbled over a twisted root.

“Are you okay?” Concern etched into his concave face.

“I’m fine,” she lied, though her sides throbbed where branches had scraped her, and her legs ached from the uneven terrain.

Eric’s gaze flicked over her, his mouth tightening as he noticed the chips scarring her smooth glaze. “Stay close to me,” he said firmly.

They pressed on, but the gap between them grew with each step. Eric darted ahead, scouting for a clear path. Tish lagged, her broader shape forcing her to weave carefully around tree trunks and squeeze through narrow spaces. The surface of her skin caught the moonlight in brief flashes, a beacon against the dark shadows of the forest.

Suddenly, the forest’s stillness shattered. Shouts rang out, bouncing off the trees. The baying of dogs followed, their wild howls reverberating through the woods.

“They’re coming,” Eric said. He grabbed her hand, pulling her forward with renewed urgency. “Run!”

They surged forward, the forest alive with the sounds of pursuit. Tish pushed herself harder. Her bag swung wildly, throwing off her balance, but she didn’t slow down. The barking grew louder, closer. The underbrush rustled violently behind them, and Tish’s panic climbed with every passing second. A sudden crack rang out, sharp and echoing. Tish froze, her mind scrambling to place where the sound came from. Just then, an agonizing cry bellowed out.

“Eric!” she screamed. She saw him collapse onto the ground, clutching his leg. His silver sheen dulled as he grimaced in pain, his body folding awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, but his voice betrayed him. Blood began to pool in the wound on his thigh, where a jagged piece of wood jutted out of his skin.

“No, you’re not!” Tish dropped to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she reached for the wound. “We have to get it out.”

“There’s no time.” Eric tried to push himself up but winced as his leg gave out beneath him.

The barking drew closer. Tish looked around desperately, her mind racing. “Lean on me. We’ll move together. We have to keep moving.” She wrapped an arm around his waist, her body straining under his weight as he leaned heavily on her.

Together, they staggered forward, the forest seeming to stretch endlessly before them. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain through Eric. The voices behind them grew louder, the flashlights flickered through the trees like ominous stars.

“Tish, leave me,” Eric said suddenly.

“No!” she protested, tears trying to force their way out.

“You can move faster without me. Go. You’ll make it.” His steps dragged, slowing them down.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, her voice booming with determination. “We’re not splitting up. I’m not leaving you behind. What would be the point if I left without you?”

“Well, go back then. Your father–”

“No, Eric, stop! We can do this.” Her voice cracked with desperation.

Eric tried to insist, but Tish silenced him with a glare. Her every muscle screamed under the strain of supporting them both. The bag on her back weighed her down further, the straps digging into her shoulders, but she refused to falter.

The barking was nearly upon them now, accompanied by the pounding of boots. Panic clawed at Tish’s throat as she glanced over her shoulder and caught the glint of flashlights through the dense foliage.

“We need to hide,” she said, out of breath. She scanned the area desperately.

“We can’t, the dogs will sniff us out,” Eric said. “Over there.” He pointed to their left, toward a spot where the moonlight shone more brightly.

They burst into a clearing. The ground dropped away suddenly to reveal a deep ravine. The rushing water below sparkled like shards of broken glass, and the only way across was a narrow, rickety wooden bridge swaying in the wind.

“There!” Eric pointed to the bridge. Tish stopped abruptly, her gaze darting between the bridge and the darkness behind them. “They’ll trap us here,” she said, panting.

“We’ll make it across,” Eric said, though his voice trembled with pain. Eric’s eyes searched hers. He nodded, “Together.”

Eric went last, taking hold of both sides of the rope railing to support himself. The bridge creaked ominously under their combined weight, the planks groaning in protest. The drop from that bridge was at least 20 feet. With each hesitant step, the frayed ropes groaned, their tension building until—SNAP!—a strand gave way, its sharp crack — a warning.

“Keep going! Faster!” Eric urged, his voice pained as he tried to step faster without his leg buckling beneath him.

Halfway across, another loud snap ricocheted through the canyon. One of the ropes broke, tipping the bridge to one side. Tish yelped, clutching the remaining rope railing. She pulled herself forward, the bridge's sway making their moments even more unsteady. They hung from the rope and inched themselves forward, sideways. Behind them, the forest erupted with noise as their pursuers emerged into the clearing. Flashlights sweeping the darkness, their beams catching the bridge and the fleeing figures upon it.

“There they are!” someone shouted, their voice echoing across the ravine.

“We’re almost there!” Tish said, her heart hammering against her chest. The bridge teetered dangerously as they neared the other side. A gunshot rang out, splitting the night air. Tish screamed, flinching instinctively as the bridge shuddered beneath them.

Eric pushed Tish forward, “Go!” he yelled.

One after the other, they leaped off the bridge just as the last rope snapped. The other end of the bridge collapsed, cutting off their pursuers. Both stumbled awkwardly to the ground. Tish heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her sides ached, her edges chipped and raw from the harrowing escape, but they had made it.

“That was too close,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“We’re okay,” he said softly. Tish nodded. Lying beside him, she met Eric’s gaze.

“We’re okay,” she echoed, barely audible.

“Matisha!” A familiar booming voice made her sit up. Her father was standing at the edge of the cliff. His shotgun was clutched in both hands. Tish stood. Silent. She hoped he could see that she was sorry. She hoped he would one day understand that this was how it had to be. For a moment, he seemed frozen, staring into the vast emptiness of the ravine. Tish looked up at the moon; her thoughts flickered to the cow’s impossible leap.

She turned to Eric. “We should probably keep moving.”

“Yeah, but–” Eric winced as he sat up, gingerly prodding his wounds.

“I’ve got a kit in my bag,” she said.

“Me too. Great minds, huh?” he grinned.

Tish exhaled, a soft relief washing over her. “We made it.”

Eric’s smile was faint but genuine. “Let’s try to make it a little further, get into the woods, and patch this up. Deal?”

She smiled, her heart warm with gratitude, and kissed him gently. “Deal.”

They moved carefully into the woods until the ravine and the barking were behind them.

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© 2026 Catherine Medina. All rights reserved.
First published in Meetinghouse Literary Journal.