Chapter Twelve

Kaleigh

The minute he shuts the door, I grab my phone to FaceTime Lauren. She answers on the second ring.

Her face comes into the screen. “What is on your face?” I ask, looking at her with a black mask.

“It’s a mask to detox. What do you want?” She tries not to move her lips so the mask doesn’t move.

“The recipe says to sauté the peppers and onions.” I look back at the recipe that I printed before.

“Okay,” she asks, not sure what the question is.

“What the fuck does that mean? Sauté. Is that code for something?”

“Jesus, you should have just got him pizza.” She shakes her head. “It means put oil in a pan and then add the peppers and onions and have them cook. Stirring them often to make sure they don’t burn. I would add some salt while they cook for flavor.”

“Okay, I think I can do that.” I nod, taking a silver frying pan out, pouring oil in the pan, and turning it on. Turning back, I ask her, “How do I know the oil is ready?”

“I’d wait about maybe a minute. It depends on the stove.” She starts to press down on the mask. “Then I would take the veggies out and do the steak.”

“Oh, shit, I have to cut the seitan.” I grab it out of the bag. “Okay, I’ll call you back if I need anything.”

“Don’t burn down his house.” Is the last thing she says before I disconnect.

I tie my hair on top of my head and push my sleeves up.

I open the seitan, slicing it thinly, my head moving to the music. When I finish cutting it, I put the cutting board in the sink. When I turn around, I see that the pan where the oil is in is now brown and smoke is starting to fill the room. “Shit,” I say, picking up the pot from the handle and turning the water on in the sink. The sounds of sizzle overpowers the music. “Fuck.” I open the fan and run to open the windows in the kitchen along with the back door. I pray that the fire alarm doesn’t go off. When I get back to the sink, I try to scrub the brown off the pan, but it’s useless. I grab another pan. It looks the same as the other one, so I put it back on the stove. I take the burnt pan and place it in the back of his cabinet, burying it under a couple of other pans. “Never happened,” I tell myself.

I get the oil out again, putting some in the bottom of the pan. “I’m not taking my eyes off this shit this time.” I wait a minute, counting to sixty in my head. I put the onions and peppers in the pan and coat them in oil. Adding salt, I turn to change the music on my playlist. When some dance music comes on, I start moving my hips while I stir the peppers and onions. “Why don’t I cook more often?” I ask myself.

I grab my phone and FaceTime Lauren again. I watch as it says connecting.

“Hey, are these ready?” I ask, turning the phone to the peppers and onions that are frying away.

“Almost. I would give it another minute or two.”

“Okay. Thanks,” I say, disconnecting again. I wait about a minute, grabbing a plate and placing them in it. When I have them all off, I put the pan back on the stove, adding the seitan. The sound of sizzle starts again. “Oh, shit,” I say, trying to grab a fork to flip the pieces, but it’s stuck to the pan. “What the fuck?” I try to pick them up, but the pieces are turning black so fast.

I call Lauren right away. “Why is the seitan sticking to the pan?”

“I have no idea.”

“I scraped the peppers and onions out and then added the seitan like the recipe said.”

“Did you add some more oil?”

“No, it didn’t say to.” I check the paper. “Okay, I’ll add some now.” I pour some oil into the pan, but I guess it was too hot because it smells right away of burn. I take the pot off the heat. “I added oil and it smells burnt.”

“The pot was too hot,” she tells me like it’s something everyone should know. “You need to lower the heat while you cook the meat. Then just add the veggies again.”

“Okay. Remind me to never cook this shit again,” I tell her, tossing my phone on the counter, waiting for the pot to cool down, the oil being absorbed into the seitan. I lower the temperature on the stove and place the pan back on. When the seitan starts browning instead of blackening, I’m thinking I got this under control. I grab the bread, slicing it in half and placing it on the cookie sheet while I open the oven.

I look down at convention or bake. The sheet says bake, so I press that button and put the buns in. I add the peppers to the seitan and put it on simmer so it stays warm.

I go into the living room and light some of the candles from last night. I go to the table and see if there is anything I can set the table with. A beep sounds from the oven, so I go over and check on the bread. Opening the door, the smell of burning and smoke make my eyes burn. Grabbing a cloth, I take the cookie sheet out of the oven. I notice I pressed broil instead of bake. “Shit,” I say, pressing the right button this time. Thankfully, the bag came with six buns.

Placing the buns in the oven, I set a timer for four minutes just to make sure. I grab the vegan provolone out of the bag, going to the oven and placing them into the buns so they can melt at the same time. Once the timer rings, I open the oven, taking out the buns with the melted cheese. I start putting the seitan at the bottom and placing the peppers and onions on the top. I place it back into the oven. I press the warm button to keep the sandwiches hot. Happy with my progress, I start cleaning up and come across the buns that are burnt. I hear the front door open and slam shut. Panic fills me as I take in the buns. I grab them up and toss them in the garbage and place the garbage on top of it.

“Honey, I’m home.” I hear from behind me. I turn, trying to get the look of despair out of my eyes.

“Hey.” I smile over at him. I should have gotten naked. This way he wouldn’t notice the burnt bread. “Just in time. Supper is ready.”

“Is it now?” he says, putting the cases on the counter and taking out a couple of bottles of white wine. “I’m told this is a vegan wine. I can’t confirm that she didn’t lie to me,” he says, showing me the label which is in fact a vegan wine.

“Awww, aren’t you sweet?” I grab a couple of wine glasses from the island that I found earlier. “Why don’t you pour the wine, and I’ll bring in the food?”

He comes closer to me. “I like seeing you here in my home. Cooking for me.” He leans down, whispering the last part before he places a kiss on my lips. I’m about to go one step further by slipping my tongue into his mouth, but the beep from the oven lets me know that the warming is done.

He nods his head, opening a drawer and taking out a cork screw. I open the oven, grabbing a rag, and bringing the cookie sheet out. The hoagies look amazing if I do say so myself.

Placing a hoagie on one plate and then the other, I carry both plates to the dining room. The sun is starting to set and with no light on it’s almost like it’s dim.

I sit down and watch Noah uncork the wine, pouring my glass first, and then his own. Sitting down in front of me, he raises his glass.

“To the first of many home-cooked meals.” He winks at me while I click my glass against his.

I take a sip of the wine, watching him lean over and pick up the hoagie, taking a bite. The bread crunches as he bites down. I reach for my own hoagie, cutting it in half.

“What’s in this?” he asks at his second bite.

He wears a confused look on his face while he opens the hoagie to see what is in fact inside.

“Veggies and seitan,” I say, grabbing a piece and biting down. Not too bad. It tastes a little like char from the burnt seitan, but it has that whole Philly steak vibe.

He grabs his wine, downing it.

“What the hell is seitan?” he asks. “Is there no steak in this Philly steak?”

I laugh at him, grabbing my wine and taking a sip to drown out the taste of burnt. “No, silly, it’s seitan, which is a ‘wheat beef’. It’s a fake beef.”

“Well, what happened to the real beef?”

I laugh at him. “I can’t eat the real beef, so I improvised.”

He takes another bite, peering inside the hoagie. “It’s almost like foam texture, or sponge. It squeaks while I chew.”

I shake my head, taking another bite, and he isn’t wrong. It does squeak. “Maybe because I overcooked it.” I take another bite. “Or burnt it.”

“Babe, I really want to eat this, but…” He looks down, his hands going up. “But. But.”

“But you won’t be full?” I try to make an excuse for him.

“Yes, I won’t be full. We should order pizza.” He pushes off the table, going to get a menu from the drawer while I take a piece of seitan with my fork. Fuck, it’s horrible. It tastes like burnt wood.

“What do you like on your pizza?” he asks, handing me the menu.

“I’m going to take the veggie one with no cheese and extra sauce.” I smile at him. “You can get your own.”

He picks up the phone, dialing the pizza guy. “Hey, I’ll take a small veggie pizza, no cheese and extra sauce, and then I’ll take a large meat lovers pizza extra sausage.”

I laugh at his order.

He hangs up. “Should be here in thirty minutes. Want to go sit outside by the pool?”

I hadn’t even noticed the pool, but now that it is dark outside the light from the pool illuminates the yard. I grab my glass of wine, following him outside. The whole backyard is free of grass. It’s all bricks and cement. The pool sits in the middle of the yard. There is a wall of cement all around it, acting like a fence. But there are lights on the wall. Against the far wall to the back there is a ledge that is built in, filled with pillows and cushions. Two potted plants sit in the corner. Two loungers are on one side near the door and on the other side is a round lounger with a half cover over it.

“Where would you like to sit?” he asks, waiting for me to continue looking around.

“Let’s go sit on the round one.” I wink at him. “This way we can make out if we want.” I smile at him while he grabs my hand, dragging me to it.