Chapter 5 Cam
five
cam
On today’s episode of Let’s not think about what a hellscape my life had become, I was now following a recipe for tamales because Sofía—the equine vet who happened to be Saúl’s sister—mentioned it was Saúl’s favorite food, and when more people lived at the main house, everyone took turns cooking.
I figured that, since the freezer was half-full with food, my turn would last quite a bit to compensate.
I didn’t mind, exactly. It was only fair, too, since I wasn’t paying for any of it.
Besides, I liked cooking. When I actually bothered to socialize and there were people I thought of as friends, I always joked that if I’d been born with money, I would’ve upended my life to study in some fancy culinary school abroad.
Somewhere in France, maybe. In that parallel universe, I would’ve been taking private language lessons from an early age, of course, so I wouldn’t even have to struggle with the culture shock.
Granted, I’d been the kid living in a kind of shitty ranch and then the apartment with barely enough natural light to keep it legal. I hadn’t had the marks to go to med school, but I got a full ride for vet school, so… Here I was.
In the middle of fucking nowhere, sharing a giant house with a man who did his best to stay out of my way.
At least the work was fun. All the habitats were monitored and the animals microchipped, but there was a habit of driving or riding around the habitats so that the animals got used to our scents.
Everyone gushed about the wolf I’d met on my first day, and I got it—she really was an oversized puppy—but I was partial to the foxes.
They were just so chaotic and dramatic. One of them almost ripped my shirt today, but no way was I snitching on him. The poor thing just wanted more scritches than I could possibly give, and how could I fault him for it?
I was kind of shocked that, strained living situation aside, I hadn’t come into any issues.
It wasn’t a secret that I was prone to those.
So far, though, the lion cub was growing up nicely to the point where we’d start introducing him to the other lions next week, no new animals had arrived, no major injuries, and vaccination season was months away.
So, was I cooking for my roommate because I had nothing to do?
Well, no. I could have my hyperactive moments, but I didn’t need to add tasks to my daily routine for the sake of it.
Unless they involved animals, it was actually bad for my mental health to do so.
But procrastination was the name of the game.
Avoidance, rather.
My therapist said that giving things the proper name was important, and avoiding calling something avoidance was… avoidant.
It had made me laugh then.
It didn’t make me laugh now, simply because now I was very aware of the thing—the email from that PI—I was avoiding. It was bad enough that I had read through the preview text and gotten the gist of it. I didn’t want to know more.
Well, I wanted to. I just knew I shouldn’t, so… Cooking tamales, it was.
Every website I checked—where, yes, I even read paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that had nothing to do with the actual process—said one should always have supervision from someone who knew what they were doing when cooking tamales for the first time.
Was I heeding the advice? Obviously not.
In my defense, I wouldn’t know who to go to. From what Sofía had said, I got the impression that Saúl wouldn’t know how to even start prepping them. Besides, if he was here, disaster was guaranteed. I’d be lucky if I only managed to burn something.
I imagined their mother would have been my first choice, but I hadn’t met the woman yet.
I had met Saúl’s dad in person the other week when he came by to check some paperwork they had to file for some fundraiser, and he’d been just as I’d expected from the video call. But Saúl’s mom hadn’t been with him.
Even if she had, teaching me how to cook felt like something a mother-in-law would do, and I was not entertaining such thoughts.
Just because a big part of the reason I got embarrassingly nervous around Saúl was the fact that he was every fantasy I’d ever had come to life—bar the kinky side, obviously, but he could be the perfect Daddy in my head if I so wanted—that meant nothing.
I didn’t even know that he was queer. He gave me queer vibes sometimes, but I’d never actually been good at telling who was part of the alphabet mafia and who wasn’t.
I blamed growing up chronically online and then only socializing with other Littles and Daddies.
I hadn’t been as exposed to actual, IRL queer circles, which was more of an issue than one would’ve thought.
There were real differences between the two.
Big differences.
“What are you doing?”
Shit!
It was a good thing I’d already prepped the plantain leaves and just had the meat cooking in the pan and the masa set aside. If I’d been carrying something, it would’ve fallen all the way to the floor, and I would’ve been the biggest, most inconsolable mess in the whole land.
My knees buckled as I whipped around to find Saúl tiredly sitting down on the breakfast table in the kitchen before taking out his Stenson. Which was a stupidly hot image, even though I cringed at the grime clinging to his face.
Now that I looked, there was some kind of fluid staining his shirt, too. I couldn’t even attempt to guess at what it was. Was he also part-mechanic, and one of the trucks had broken down?
“Um. Tamales.” I remembered to answer, but my mind was already running on ten different scenarios. “What happened to you?”
“Helped deliver a foal until Sofía could reach us.”
Ohhhhh.
I bounced up. “Blondie finally gave birth?”
I wasn’t in charge of the horses, just as Sofía wasn’t in charge of any of the other animals, but we still talked among ourselves.
Besides, she had mentioned that the vet who had been working there before me and she used to assist each other regardless of whether one of them needed an extra set of hands, so I planned to honor that legacy.
I bet that Sofía had been taking in my animals while they searched for me, anyway, so it was only fair, and I did like horses.
“That’s right.” Saúl smiled, but he really looked like he was two seconds away from falling asleep right here, right now. “I bet you can go see her tomorrow.”
Well, yeah, of course I was going to go see her. There was nothing urgent, and most importantly, nothing cuter than a newborn foal still learning to stand upright.
“Will do.”
I bet Sofía would drag me there even if I didn’t want to. She had that vibe around her—like she was the type of woman who got things done, and she was too used to getting her way and people doing her bidding.
“Why are you making tamales?”
Right. He’d startled me while I was trying to figure out if I had to lower the fire for the filling, or if it should stay longer. I was going with longer, but I still turned around and gave it all a stir for good measure.
“Um, I like to cook, and Sofía said that you like them. Unless—” My heart started beating faster as the wandering thought took more and more space.
Shit. How did I not realize? “Are there Chilean tamales? The recipe I’m following is from a Mexican blog.
Fuck, I didn’t think of it, I’m sorry, Sofía just said that and I wanted to contribute, but—”
“It’s fine.” Saúl raised the hand that wasn’t holding his Stenson.
“I’m not that attuned to Chilean cuisine, if I’m completely honest, but I’ve always had Mexican tamales.
Our last cook was a woman from Tijuana. She was here since I was a baby, and I think she’s the one who taught my mom how to make them. ”
Oh, thank fuck.
I breathed out, which was probably very visible and wasn’t doing me any favors in giving the impression that I was a competent human, but…
Too bad.
“Okay.”
Should I look into Chilean cuisine? He said he wasn’t attuned, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to be, right?
Sadly, I’d never met anyone from Chile before, and even though Chilean restaurants had to be a thing, I’d never been to one.
I’d do some research tomorrow.
“You don’t have to cook my favorite foods.”
“I know.” I huffed, my back turned to him while I burned holes in the contents of the pan.
Part of my decision to let it cook longer was the fact that I was terrified of the next step—spreading the masa on the leaves, then the filling, and tying it up.
What if it spilled out, and I ruined it all?
And then there was the steaming part, and how no blog gave you an exact time or way to measure when they were ready.
Now I’d have witnesses, too. In my head, Saúl was going to arrive when I already had everything plated up and looking pretty.
“But I’ve been emptying your fridge all month. It’s only fair.”
“It’s part of your contract, isn’t it?” He didn’t let me answer before he stood up. “I’m going to go shower while you finish up.”
Did that mean the filling was ready now? Maybe he recognized something about the color or the smell. I didn’t know, but I nodded anyway and pretended there wasn’t a knot in my throat.
This whole living situation was a mess.
At least the tamales didn’t end up looking a mess.
I didn’t know if the taste was that authentic—recipe blogs couldn’t always be trusted—or if I’d taken them out of the heat too soon, but they looked decent.
I think I tied the ribbon a bit too tight in a few of them, and they looked more blobby than they should, but hey, if anyone asked, I was representing body diversity.
Saúl didn’t ask. He just thanked me for the food, and I pretended not to stare while he untied the ribbon and started eating as if he hadn’t had anything all day.
I knew he had, but I liked the way he was acting as if he’d never had anything better in his entire life.
He even thanked me all proper, and I managed to just clear my throat and acknowledge it without turning into a mess.
Or apologize profusely because I’d underestimated how long it would all take, and the fact that they needed to sit for about an hour after being steamed.
Had I been fiddling a lot while I waited and he took his sweet time upstairs?
Obviously.
Did I mention it?
Nope.
“Tell me you’re finally having a day off this week.”
I grunted.
Another reason to avoid Saúl? He kept bringing this up.
Technically speaking, I took my days offs because it was illegal not to—every Sunday. Just because I decided to hang around with the animals, people thought I was working? That wasn’t my fault.
“Maybe? I don’t know yet.”
It wasn’t my fault that I had no interest in actually leaving the sanctuary, which was soon turning into a sanctuary for me as well.
I understood rest was important and whatever, but if I rested, I had time to think through shit, and check my emails, and confirm the lack of people on social media I could start a conversation with because I’d fucked up everything.
Spending the day checking in on the pretty foxes and the other animals that were okay with giving some love was a much better use of my time, as far as I was concerned.
Saúl grumbled. “I swear I will lock you in if I have to.”
I huffed.
At least he didn’t say he’d drive me to the nearest town himself.
I’d heard that from a couple of the ranch hands who didn’t understand why I wasn’t jumping with joy at the idea of the BBQ they were putting together for me.
I didn’t want to sound unappreciative. I just didn’t think it was going to be my thing.
Their threats definitely weren’t.
Saúl’s threat was only slightly better.
“It’s your house,” I quipped with a shrug.
He stared at me for what felt like a minute. It wasn’t that long, obviously. I didn’t know if he was in need of a haircut or if he preferred longer hair, but the locks of dark hair covering his ears were something else to be distracted by.
Ugh.
“Please, take the day off.” He sighed. “The care team loves you, and they will surely blame me if you burn out ahead of time.”
“I don’t burn out,” I protested.
I did, but I kept on going, because the exhaustion was better than staying alone with my thoughts.
Now there was no way I could get away with visiting the animals on Sunday, though. It was a thin tightrope—being playfully contrary and being seen as an insufferable, stubborn, piece of shit.
Too much?
Probably.
“Fine,” I mumbled. “I’ll stay inside and won’t lift a finger.”
Saúl shook his head. I didn’t know if he was fondly exasperated by me, or if he was at his wits’ end. I never learned the difference. “I can give you riding lessons next week if you do.”
I gasped.
I couldn’t help it.
After the first week and seeing how he was on his horse more often than he was on his truck, I’d gotten that bug I used to have all the time when I lived at the farm.
Saúl had noticed, and he’d offered to see which of the horses weren’t claimed for and matched with me, but I hadn’t ridden in so long.
I didn’t want to accidentally hurt one because I was out of practice and didn’t have the right balance.
“You’re not playing fair.”
He just shrugged and continued eating.
I did the same, but in my head, I was glowering at him the whole time.