Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
LUKE
I lied to Lorelai about leaving today. I’m staying until the day after tomorrow so that I can cook supper for my parents at the diner. I didn’t tell her that though because I knew after our dinner at the lodge I was in serious trouble. I was ready to throw caution to the wind and declare my interest to her regardless of the consequences, and that wouldn’t be fair to her. She’s made it clear what she wants, and my plans don’t fit into her dreams.
My mom keeps to herself most of the day, seeming to realize how important it is for my dad and me to have uninterrupted time together. We talk about his childhood, and I learn all about his parents and Bobby. They sound like wonderful people, and it makes me sad that I never got to know them. I hear of my dad’s favorite memories—which include a family trip to Disney World; his most cherished keepsake—a framed photo of them all in front of Space Mountain; and his biggest regret—never telling his dad how much he loved spending time at his diner.
The more we talk, the more I realize a significant part of my father’s development was stunted by his careless words and the subsequent demise of his family. My heart aches for him and I want to wrap the little boy he used to be in my arms and assure him that everything will be okay.
Like so many, my dad is battling demons that invaded his life without invitation. Seeing him as a normal person is a novel experience. I’ve never thought of him as an ordinary human. From a childhood perspective, he was more like a legendary superhero who knew how to fix any problem that arose. I suppose my idolization has made his seeming disapproval of my life’s choices even harder for me to understand.
Once my dad lies down for his afternoon nap—which has become a regular occurrence in his day—I take off for the diner to prepare for the evening meal. Despite my mom’s concerns that he’d be angry when he learned I’ve been picking up the slack for him at Pop’s, he was grateful and proud that his son had been there for him in his hour of need.
I’ve learned so much during this trip that it’s going to take me a while to unpack it all. I’ve learned that while we don’t live for others, we must always consider their feelings. Life, while often construed as a singular journey, is so much more than that. It’s an adventure that, if lived right, includes compromise and concessions. Bending doesn’t break us; it gives us more resilience and strength to handle whatever else might come.
Once I get to Pop’s, I strap on an apron and think about what I can make for my dad. I consider something that he will love, while trying to come up with a twist that he might not have previously thought of. I want him to see there’s a place where his style of cooking and mine can meet. By embracing our differences, we might actually broaden both of our repertoires.
Cooking for my parents at their diner is a curiously exciting feeling. I’m right where my dad has always wanted me to be, but he no longer seems to even care. Walking over to their table, I announce, “I’ve made a stuffed meatloaf for tonight’s special.”
“You know about my specials, huh?” The expression on his face is sheepish.
Giving him a knowing look, I tell him, “Tanya told me that you served blackened catfish with garlic mashed potatoes.” I wait a beat before adding, “Not coleslaw.”
The color of his complexion deepens. “Everyone loved it. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time.”
I sit down next to my mom and ask, “Is this how you saw things working out between Dad and me?”
She shakes her head. “I could only hope, but you’re both so relentlessly stubborn I was having doubts.” Glaring at my dad, she demands, “How is it that you never told me that you didn’t want to be in the restaurant business?” I’m surprised she didn’t already know that. She must have overheard him tell me.
“I liked it after I got into it,” he tells her. “Are you saying you would have preferred the life of a footballer’s wife?”
“Soccer wife,” she corrects him.
“They call soccer football everywhere in the world except the US,” he reminds her.
My mom takes a sip of water before replying, “I’m glad this was our life. I like Pop’s and Elk Lake has been the perfect place to raise the kids. I always felt like we were a key part of our community.”
“What I want to know,” I say looking at my dad, “is whether you copied the menu from your dad’s restaurant here.”
“A couple things for sure,” he says. “But I like to think I put my own spin on them.”
“That must be where I get it,” I tease before asking, “What happened to your parents’ restaurant? You know, after they passed.”
“It was sold, and the proceeds went to the people who adopted me and Bobby. I think it was like a buyout for taking a kid they didn’t want.”
“You’d think someone would have taken both of you, then.” My mom’s tone is past judgmental and bordering on hostile.
“People want babies,” my dad tells her. “It’s not an easy task placing two adolescent boys.” Changing the subject, he asks, “What comes with that meatloaf? ”
“Caramelized onions and garlic mashed potatoes.”
“You just can’t get away from those mashed potatoes, can you?” he jokes.
“Just you wait until you try the onions,” I tell him. “I caramelize them, then finish them off with root beer instead of wine.”
My dad raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like very fine dining to me.”
“It’s not. I learned a lot of stuff at culinary school and not all of it is fancy, as you like to call it.”
“Well then, bring me the meatloaf!” he orders. My mom asks for the same.
Walking back into the kitchen, I tell Jim, “They both want the meatloaf.”
“Good choice.” He cuts two slices and puts them in a pan under the broiler to heat. “It’s nice seeing your dad up and about again. It’ll be nicer when he comes back to work.”
“The doctor says he can start back next week, but he’s got to take it slow.”
“I might have to hire some help,” Jim says. “Now that you’re heading back to Chicago, I’m not sure we’re going to be able to manage everything without you.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll be back in a few weeks to check on you,” I tell him. “But I’m sure my dad would be happy for the extra help.”
I get busy filling orders that are coming in, and I let my mind wander. I haven’t even been home for three weeks, and I already feel myself slowing down. I expect readjusting to late hours at Capon might kick my butt. Even so, I am looking forward to getting back into my groove.
I plate my parents’ order and then take it out to the dining room myself. I want to see my dad’s face when he tries the onions. Putting their dishes down in front of them, I turn to my dad and declare, “I predict that you’re going to beg me for the recipe. ”
He laughs. “You think, huh? You know I cook a pretty mean meatloaf.”
“I know you do,” I tell him. “But I think mine might be worth a cook off. We can serve some of each and let the customers decide which they like more.”
“Are you challenging me?” My dad is trying to sound tough, but the truth is, I can tell he’s excited at the prospect. This is probably the kind of lively competition our working together might have created.
I stand and watch while my dad cuts into his meatloaf. He takes a small bite and chews it thoughtfully before guessing, “Horseradish and Tabasco?”
“Yup. What else?”
He starts to list items. “Mushroom, spinach, and salsa! I like salsa in place of ketchup. Nice move.”
I offer a small bow. “I should have known you would have caught that.”
My mom rolls her eyes. “I’m starting to think that if you two ever did work together, I’d never see either of you. You’d be too busy competing.”
My dad waves his fork through the air. “You don’t have to worry about that. Luke is going home to Chicago, and I promised that we’d come up there and let him cook for us at Capon.”
My mom positively beams with joy. “I’m glad to have my boys back together.”
“I’ve been a real idiot, Luke,” my dad says. “I promise to never pressure you about where you work again.”
A feeling of warmth circulates through me. I love having my dad back. I just wish we hadn’t lost so much time. “I’m still coming back to Elk Lake and we’re going to have some throw downs. I’m thinking our first one should be meatloaf, but our second should be catfish.”
“My money’s on your dad for the catfish,” my mom says loyally .
“How can you say that?” I want to know. “You’ve had my catfish at Capon.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll refrain from voting until I try them together,” she says. “Now scoot. I want to enjoy my dinner, and I can’t do that if you keep yapping.”
As I walk back into the kitchen, an image of Lorelai pops into my head. I finally see why she likes living in Elk Lake so much. I’ve spent so much time away from home in the last several years, I forget how it feels to be so easily accepted. There’s no need to prove yourself here. There’s no pressure to be more.
Getting back on the line, I throw several burgers and chicken breasts on the grill while contemplating my future. Not too long ago, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted, and nothing was going to get in my way of having it. But now that my dad and I have mended fences, I finally see that there’s more to life than leaving. Coming home has been pretty sweet, too, and I look forward to spending a lot more time here.
Which of course, brings me back to the topic of Lorelai …