Chapter 3: The Grape Ritual
The evening had grown quiet, with the soft hum of the city outside the apartment window blending with the faint sound of cars passing by. Linda and Mathilda were in the kitchen, the warm light of the overhead lamp casting golden hues across the room. On the table before them, a small plate of twelve plump, glossy grapes sat, lined up like little green soldiers awaiting orders.
Mathilda crouched beside the table with a dramatic flourish. "Behold! The instrument of our love destiny," she announced, pointing to the plate.
Linda raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. "You're really calling grapes our destiny now?"
"Absolutely," Mathilda said, brushing an imaginary dust off the grapes. "Don't act like you're not intrigued. This is serious business. Twelve grapes, twelve months of the year. Eat them under the table, one by one, and watch the magic happen."
Linda laughed, shaking her head. "Magic? You mean superstition. I think this falls under 'desperate measures for single people.'"
Mathilda grinned. "Call it whatever you want. But mark my words: by Valentine's Day, our love lives are going to be lit."
Linda rolled her eyes playfully. "Lit, huh? You mean chaotic, awkward, or disastrous?"
Mathilda gave a mock gasp. "Disastrous? Linda, don't even joke about it. This is serious. We are officially invoking the power of the grape!"
With a dramatic flourish, Mathilda crawled under the table, tucking her legs awkwardly beneath her. She extended a hand toward Linda. "Come on, join me. The ritual cannot be performed without both participants."
Linda hesitated, then gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. But if I get stuck under this table and someone sees me crawling out, I'm blaming you entirely."
Mathilda laughed, scooting over to make space. "Deal. And now… let the ritual begin!"
The first grape was placed on the floor, right beneath Linda's nose. She picked it up and inspected it like a scientist analyzing an experiment. "Okay, so what's the proper way to eat this?"
Mathilda waved her hand like a guru giving instructions. "One grape, one month. Chew thoroughly, think about love, and make a wish. No distractions. No texting. Focus on your soulmate."
Linda chuckled, popping the grape into her mouth. "Fine. Here goes… January." She closed her eyes and imagined someone—anyone—walking into her life who would make her heart race. "Done."
Mathilda grinned, munching her first grape. "February. Simple. Don't forget to smile while you chew. The universe likes a happy face."
Linda rolled her eyes but played along. "Happy face. Universe noted." She swallowed her grape with exaggerated care.
They continued, one grape at a time, each month accompanied by commentary, laughter, and occasional teasing.
"March," Mathilda said. "I wish for someone who can actually text back in less than three days."
Linda snorted. "Amen to that. Also, someone who isn't obsessed with three cats named after Star Wars characters."
Mathilda's eyes widened. "Hey! You never know. That could be adorable. And besides, Chewbacca is very charming."
Linda laughed, shaking her head. "I doubt it. But okay, April…" She popped another grape into her mouth. "I wish for someone who doesn't ghost me after the first date."
Mathilda raised her eyebrows. "Big dreams! I like it. May…" She chewed thoughtfully, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if seeking divine inspiration. "I wish for someone who actually notices me without me having to post ten Instagram stories a day."
Linda chuckled softly, imagining Mathilda swiping through dating apps and posting selfies in every possible lighting. "That's reasonable," she said. "June… I wish for someone who makes me laugh until my cheeks hurt."
Mathilda grinned, mimicking a dramatic swoon. "Oh, I'm already picturing him. Tall, dark, charming, mysterious… the whole package."
Linda laughed, shaking her head. "You've been imagining him for years, Mathilda. Maybe it's time reality catches up."
Mathilda made a face, exaggerating indignation. "Excuse me? Reality has a reputation, okay. Sometimes it takes a while to meet the right person."
The ritual continued, grape after grape, month after month, with each wish more elaborate and humorous than the last. July brought the wish for someone spontaneous who would take them on adventures. August was for someone kind who would care for them in small, meaningful ways. September was for romance that felt genuine, not forced. October was for passion and laughter. November was for stability and trust. And finally, December… the ultimate wish: someone who could be both a lover and a best friend.
As they reached the final grape, they sat back under the table, laughing so hard that tears prickled their eyes.
"Okay," Mathilda said between giggles, "I think the universe just got the memo. We are officially putting ourselves out there. Someone's going to be head over heels for us soon. I can feel it in my soul."
Linda smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Or maybe we're going to eat grapes and end up with indigestion. But either way… it's been fun."
Mathilda nudged her friend playfully. "Fun? Girl, this is bonding. This is magical. This is sisterhood. And maybe… just maybe… love."
They crawled out from under the table, still laughing, and settled back on the couch, the energy between them lighter, warmer, and filled with hope.
"Seriously, though," Linda said after a moment, "I feel… different. Like maybe we're actually doing something. Not just waiting for life to hand us a boyfriend. We're taking control."
Mathilda nodded, her face thoughtful for once. "Exactly. That's what this is about. Not the grapes themselves, but the intention. We're putting ourselves out there, showing the universe we're ready. Love is coming… whether we're ready for it or not."
Linda smiled softly. "Then let's make a pact. No holding back. We try, we fail, we laugh, we cry… together."
Mathilda extended her hand, and they bumped fists. "Together. Always."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, reminiscing about past crushes, failed dates, and ridiculous romantic mishaps. Linda shared a story about a guy who had shown up late to their first date with spinach stuck in his teeth. Mathilda recounted a blind date where the man had spent the entire dinner talking about his pet lizard. They laughed until their sides hurt, each tale reminding them of why they had vowed to take love seriously this time.
Hours later, they finally settled into the quiet comfort of the apartment, the grapes now gone but the ritual's magic lingering in their hearts. Both felt a renewed sense of hope, an unspoken agreement that Valentine's Day would not find them single and hopeless. They had taken the first step, and now the universe had been notified: Linda and Mathilda were ready for love, and nothing would stop them.
For the first time that week, as the city outside twinkled in the night, both felt truly excited about what the future might bring.