To: griffincaleb@gmail.com
From: Skylarlodge@gmail.com
Re: Therapy.
"I don't know what you told Danny, but I very much enjoy watching him being worked up,"Erik says slumping on my couch, all sweaty from work.
He grabs the remote and changes the station to a rerun of yesterday's Wednesday night Smackdown.
"You gave me Martin's number not Peter's,"
It's not a question but he still answers,"your father wanted a way to talk to you and dad had basically cut of most of the communication,"
He sits up right.
I don't say anything else and continue watching the show that I also missed yesterday.
When the show goes for a break, I grab us beer, a packet of cheetos and some nuts.
"I'm sorry,"
"Stop apologizing for things that you didn't have control over," note the sarcasm.
The wrestling match acts a background noise to the wheels in my brain rolling. Bringing up my life like a slide show, a set there a passenger to my own memories.
The picture of my father burns in my back pocket and I go seeking where I have seen him before.
A memory I had long forgotten about takes the center stage and starts the show.
I was fifteen years and I had just about convinced my father over the phone that I was ready to have an oven cooker in the house.
I really didn't want it. I loved cooking just about as much as I loved figure skating, but Erik convinced me to. At the time I had a huge crush on his friend Todd and the possibility of having him around my space felt more important than anything else at that time.
Coming home early from my Friday hockey practice, I find Erik setting up the oven.
"Wow it came? I thought it would take a while considering dad said he doesn't have the money to buy Carrie a phone after constantly breaking hers,"
I grab the orange juice pitcher and take a long swig as I sit on the counter stools.
"Guess yours seems important," he looks away from me.
"Okay… so when is Todd coming by?" I try to appear casual and I fail miserably.
"Soon," he shoots me one of his know it smiles.
"Am gonna take a shower," I raced to the bathroom aiming to look presentable for Todd. But not forgetting to shoot dad a thank you text for the oven.
I come out twenty minutes later smelling like jasmine, and in a sun dress, despite the October weather.
"Nice," Erik snorts when I reenter the kitchen.
He had fried some bacon and eggs. I eat some, ignoring him.
"Whats up man!" Todd enters the kitchen and does that bro hug thingy with Erik,then shots me a look.
I don't know what to make of the look, it's not a checking me out look nor an acknowledgement look.
So I slide back on my stool afraid to say anything,but willing to lurk in the shadows and watch.
"I got some assignment I need to research on, be back once am done," Erik leaves the house.
Todd completely ignores my existence and works silently. I continue to watch him afraid to make a noise and have him lash out at me as Maggie does whenever I am around and she's busy.
An hour later he's done with the cooking plates whatever it is he's made into the dish and leaves the house, leaving the kitchen in a horrendous mess.
Erik later in the night brings me a slice of what Todd made. It's delicious, so delicious I want to have more but none is left and I don't know the name.
I tell dad about it over a text and he advice that I learn something of what the guy likes so we can have something in common to bond over.
I spend the next day, Saturday, recreating his steps to make whatever it is he made.
I keep this up. I recreate his actions every next day after he leaves and dad is so very helpful to provide the name of the dishes and some recipes to try. But none of this make Todd wanna talk to me. After a few months of using my ingredients and equipments he stops coming by.
******
I am rudely pulled out of my memory slideshow by Carrie who busts into my house yelling profanities at me.
Erik tries calming her down but her voice is so damn near pitchy at this point annoying the hell out of me. Everything I had been holding in sees a perfect receiver, and before I can stop myself, I start yelling at her.
I full on rant for about five minutes before I get a hang on my emotions. The two siblings stare at me like an alien with two heads before, the girl gets all emotional and starts to cry.
I want to feel bad, but I don't, everything I said is the truth, and they never saw me crying while they were mean to me.
The sweet relief of payback has me smile I walk towards her. I probably look like I have lost my mind. She backs away from me till she is out the door,I shut it to her face.
"Sky? What on earth was that?" Erik
Almost yells.
I ignore him. Carrie's rant reminded me of after Todd stopped coming and baking her nice stuff she kept blaming me.
"Why did Todd stop coming here?" I turn back to face him.
"what?" My question catchs his off guard.
"Why did Todd stop coming over?" I stress over every word like am talking to a child.
"Your father asked him to stop taking advantage of you," he is uncomfortable.
"And he couldn't continue cooking at the main house why?"
"Dad didn't want him around Carrie," he takes a few seconds to answer.
"So he liked her and you knew about it and never told me? Just let me act like a fool around him?" I half scream at him.
"Nothing would have happened even if he liked you. He was there when mum said your sick," he shrugs.
I stare at him for a long while before opening the door, "out!"
~~~~~~~~
I wake up to movements around the room. I flutter my eyes open taking in my surroundings. I was so very tired yesterday to care about where I was.
The room is almost the same as it was last time I was here. A queen size bed stands at the middle of the room. A study desk by the window, a closet occupies the opposite wall of the window. The drapes are a navy blue color that is slightly parted letting in light from the outside world.
The light illuminates a poster of the if the New York bull, and a newer poster of the team he was drafted to play for this season - The wolves .
"Sorry I didn't mean to wake up you up," he says noticing my open eyes as he places a mocha latte and a some wrapped escort, which by the same tells me is a blueberry muffin or cupcake.
"It's okay," I sit up.
"I wanted to get you breakfast before I left,"
"You really didn't have to. I could have gotten myself when I went into class, what will you use,?"
I can't help but worry about him if he continues spending his money on me and will be stuck on the road for a week on his Chicago game.
"It's fine, I got it covered," he says after a long stretch of silence.
"But-"
"No buts, you already are tutoring me for free, let me at least do something nice for you," his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened.
I don't push him, I just take the latte and sip, loving how the hot liquids washes over my mouth waking up my senses.
"You can stay here for as long as you need," he drops the house key next to the muffin.
"I will text you once I get to the hotel,"
I nod at that. He stands there for a while debating on how to say bye to a stranger that spent the night on your bed with no sex and might continue crushing here for a while.
He settles for a quick hug and leaves the room. I listen to his footsteps,aware that I am inside his room all alone, and that my exam is in an hour and I have nothing to wear.
Like the very normal person I am, I start going through his stuff.
The constant thumping of my foot is the only sound that flitterrs through the office.
It's ten am and I am in Mrs. Linda's office for my results. She left ten minutes ago and my foot hasn't stopped thrumming and neither has the nail biting.
I think I did well on my exams, but the nagging feeling in the back of mind won't stop chanting that maybe am not good at this as I think I am.
"Sorry Ms. lodge for you keeping here for so long," she sits at her desk.
"It's okay,"
"You did quite well on the theory exam, but the practical part not quite so much, but not enough to have to the class both this semester and the next," she pause.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Am not that bad.
"You have earned the full marks that Mrs. Smith needs for you to pass this class, but I would like for you to work on your measurements and heat on your pastries. Need any help, you know where to find me," she gave me a smile.
"Thank you so very much,"
I walk out of there my heart lighter than it has been since Mrs.Smith said I might not pass this semester if I don't get the required marks.
There's a light skip in my step as head for my only Monday class- African fusion history.
The class entails choosing three African countries and learning their main dishes along with its history. I picked Kenya, Nigeria and Rwanda, which pretty much seems to be the easiest of all the traditional food.
And on top of that we get to compete with other schools and we are lucky to be in the competition happening next Monday with a few culinary institutes around town.
*******
"Here," Mark pass me a spinach smoothie as we head into our Friday gastronomy class.
The week has flown by pretty fast and in a few hours I will be having my first ever game in a while. The training has gotten intense in the past couple of days, coach determined to keep us into the season till playoffs.
"Caleb again?" I take the drink.
The whole week Caleb has been sending Mark or Amelia to bring me breakfast and at times Luca to bring me dinner and on occasions flowers as I have been staying in Caleb's room.
"Yep, you really have the guy wrapped around your finger don't you?"
"That's not true," my voice raises an octave at the accusations.
"The clueless ones seem to be having the most power," he mutters.
I ignore him focusing on my drink as we occupy the last station.
The kitchen hums with quiet anticipation. Stainless steel countertops gleam under the over head lighting, each section meticulously set up with neatly arranged knives, cutting board, bowls and measuring cups and spoons. The stations came with their own pre installed ovens and sinks.The air carries about the faint scent of garlic and fresh herbs.
"From our previous lectures we learnt that gastronomy is not just cooking, but the deeper understanding of food as an art, a science, and a cultural expression. This practical session isn't just about following recipes; it's about exploring flavors, techniques, and creativity," Liam slowly walks around the class talking.
"On the shelves lining the walls, groceries have been placed, select what you need for this class and let's make a simple lunch meal, I will be walking around to see how you work," he says, pausing at his workstation at the front of the desk.
"Keep in mind, that every ingredient has a story, engage all your sense and work clean. And don't forget to employ Mise en place," Liam adds.
"What do you think we should make?" I ask Mark as ther rest of the groups rush to pick out their ingredients.
"Let's do something that speaks to both of us"
"What would -," I cut myself off realizing what he is talking about.
"Presentation of the food is just as important as the food creation process. Mastering the art of presention can be at times hard but not impossible,"
The class is almost over and we have managed to create a lunch and a brunch meal.
"For our next class, we will be working on Chinese cuisine. Enjoy your hard work," he takes a huge bite of his taco to cement his words.
Grabbing a fork, I roll the pasta in before dipping it in marinera sause and into my mouth. I moan at the the taste. Mark is a genius when it camees to anything sauce.
"This is where I was meant to be," Mark groans, grabbing the class's attention.
Daisy, a short gorgeous girl that seems to have a thing for Mark walks over,and they were project partners since the start of the program.
"May I taste?"
"I need to hit the cafeteria and sell the cake pops,see you later," I say much to Mark's dismay.
"Skylar,"
"Liam,"
"Of to the cafeteria?"
"Yes,"
"Don't forget to save me some"
After getting over my fear to ask for help, Liam seemed helpful in both catching me up on the unit and and helping me the business plan that got Mrs.Smith approval.
Plus he has been a Loyal customer buying for me more than five everyday.