32. Dylan
”...now, add olive oil to help caramelize the onions. Don”t add too much… just enough to coat the pan…”
After pouring a small dollop of oil into the pan and rolling it around to coat the surface, I glance at the TV on the kitchen counter.
”Next, drop your chopped onions in. Check on them and stir frequently.”
I grab onions from the cutting board next to the stove and dump them in, then pause the cooking show and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
Cooking dinner is thirsty work.
My shirt and pants are covered in sauce and who knows what else… maybe I”ll wear an apron next time.
I guzzle the water.
It”s been two weeks since I”ve spoken to Lara, and I”ve been forced to finally accept that we”ll never end up together like I want.
She doesn”t want me—or doesn”t want me like that.
Whatever it is, she won”t back down and let me in. I”ve tried talking about it. I”ve tried giving her things. Taking her places. Tried fucking her. Loving her—god, don”t even try—and she won”t have any of it.
I”ll not lie and say it doesn”t hurt because it does. It hurts. But there”s nothing more I can do. Lara is Lara…
I”ll always love her, but if she wants to do her own thing, she should. And I hope she”s happy.
And… I lick my lips and swallow hard. I”m going to have to be, too. And fill my time with tasks that keep my mind off her.
Like ranching. Breaking horses. Cooking. Whatever?—
Earlier,after flipping through the channels and finding a show about making smothered pork chops with sauteed spinach and onions, I gave Aunt Mary the night off and tried something new.
Juliet walks into the kitchen holding shopping bags, followed by Aunt Mary. ”Whoa… mmm, what”s that smell?”
”You making something, Dylan?” Aunt Mary asks with a surprised smile.
I grin. ”Thought I”d make dinner.”
My sister sits at one of the bar stools on the other side of the island. ”You tryin” to get on Aunt Mary”s good side?”
I let out a chuckle. ”Just something I wanted to do. Hope that”s okay?”
Aunt Mary kisses me on the cheek. ”It”s sweet, Dylan. I was going to pull a lasagna out of the freezer, but this… this is a gourmet feast.”
I look at the stove, feeling proud, then back to her. ”You think so?”
She looks at the various dirty pans on the stovetop. ”I can”t wait to try it. May I help with anything?”
I shake my head. ”Not a thing. Just relax. I”ll call you when it”s done.”
She pats my back. ”Thank you, honey. I”m going to change into something comfortable. I”m not sure if the rest of the gang are around. It might just be the three of us for dinner.”
”Leftovers, then.”
After Aunt Mary leaves, Juliet goes upstairs to lounge in her room before dinner, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I start the cooking show again, hoping to keep up with the rest of the steps.
I have an apple crumb cake to get into the oven, and I want everything ready in a reasonable amount of time.
Fortunately, everything turns out just like it”s supposed to, and I”m setting everything on the table as Aunt Mary walks in, wearing a light grey sweatshirt and jeans.
”Good timing, Aunt Mary. I”ll get you a glass of wine.”
”Wow.” She glances around at the dishes. ”You made all of this?”
”Not bad, huh?”
”It looks wonderful. And yeah, I”ll have a glass of wine. But I”ll get it. You”ve done enough. Sit and eat before it gets cold. Did you call your sister down?”
”Not yet.”
She walks over to the stairs. ”Juliet? Come down for dinner!”
”The cooking show said a white wine would pair well, so I left a bottle on the counter.”
Aunt Mary gets a corkscrew from the drawer.
”Hey! What about me?” Juliet asks as she bounces into the kitchen. ”Can I have some?”
Aunt Mary chuckles. ”Show me some ID, and I”ll pour you a glass. You can have some lemonade… freshly squeezed.”
”Fine.” Juliet scoffs, goes to the fridge, and gets out the pitcher. ”Do we need anything else? Plates, forks?”
”It”s all here.” I wave her over. ”Come and sit.”
Aunt Mary holds up her glass of wine. ”This calls for cheers. Dylan, thank you for cooking us a delicious meal.”
The three of us clink our glasses together.
”Holy cow!” Juliet exclaims around a bite of pork.
Aunt Mary cuts a piece and pops it into her mouth. ”My word, Dylan. This is so good.”
The pork chops are tender and juicy, and the spinach and onions have the right amount of oil and spice.
”Save room for dessert,” I tell them. ”There”s an apple crumb cake on the way.”
”Now Malcolm is going to be sorry he missed this,” Aunt Mary says. ”We”ll have to leave him a plate.”
”They”re all going to flip out when they find out they”ve missed it,” Juliet says.
”You”ve got some talent in the kitchen,” Aunt Mary says. ”Maybe it”s time for advanced lessons.”
I think about it. ”I didn”t think about cooking before. But I like it.”
Aunt Mary takes a sip of wine. ”Let”s look into what they offer in town. Maybe they have some classes starting up. It”s good for you to get out, socialize, and learn something new.”
I sit back and think about that. ”You sure? You don”t need me to do things around here?”
”Honey, if you can cook a meal as good as this, then it”s a crime not to go for it. Just think of where you could go with cooking skills.”
The timer on the oven goes off. I take the cake out, thinking about the skills I could learn in the kitchen. This might be something… it”s been a long time since I”ve found something I”m interested in besides horses.
I bring the cake to the table, cut off slices, and hand them to Aunt Mary and Juliet.
”This might be better than the dinner,” Juliet says, pointing at the cake with her fork. ”I agree, bro. You should cook more.”
Aunt Mary pats my forearm. ”I”ll call the center tomorrow and see what they have.”
I let out a chuckle. ”Sounds good. It”s funny… I just wanted to do something nice, and now you two want me to make a career out of it.”
”I think you should look into it, Dylan.” Juliet scrapes up the last piece of her cake. ”Now, can I have another piece?”
Over the next few days,I spend more time in the kitchen, experimenting with different recipes and seeing what flavors work well with each other and what doesn”t.
Aunt Mary cooks with me a few times, and I don”t think I”ve ever had more fun with her. We laugh and joke around, ensuring everyone who walks through the house tries whatever we”ve been making.
Juliet becomes my official taste-tester, coming through the kitchen for seconds and thirds.
Aunt Mary signed me up for the next cooking class in town, which conveniently starts next week. It”s an introductory class for anyone considering going to culinary school, and it”s a good opportunity to see if I really have it in me or if cooking is just a passing phase.
Finally, the first day of my class arrives.
Carter has to borrow my truck, so Aunt Mary drives me into town because she has errands.
”This is nice of you, Aunt Mary,” I tell her as I climb into her car. ”You don”t have to worry about picking me up, though. I can find a ride back from town.”
”Absolutely not,” she says and starts to drive. I”ll want to hear about your first day, so you can be sure I”ll pick you up to find out before anyone else does.”
I smile. ”You”re too good, Aunt Mary.”
”Comes naturally,” she says with a chuckle. ”I love seeing you kids passionate about something and what you might want to do with your newfound talent. Maybe study in Paris? Learn how to make pasta in Italy?”
”I”d like to open my own restaurant. Make my own dishes and have free rein over what”s on the menu,” I tell her, going for it, and making up some new dreams. ”I”ll make delicious food for people and have a great place to come together.”
I”m excited to see what I can do with this new hobby and how far I can take it. I don”t know why I never noticed it before…
I wish I realized it sooner. But it was meant to happen this way.
”That”s a wonderful idea, Dylan. You have the brains and the work ethic. And you have a knack for this. You do. I”m so proud of you.”
She pulls in front of the education center a while later. I kiss her on the cheek. ”It”s like you”re dropping me off for my first day of kindergarten.”
Aunt Mary smiles and squeezes my hand. ”You”ve got the potential to be great, Dylan. Now go in there and show them what you”re made of. And call me when you”re done so I can pick you up.”
”Thanks. I”ll see you later.” I hop out of the car and walk to the door. As I step inside, it”s like I”m beginning a new chapter in my life… one that leaves all of my sadness behind—especially the rejection from Lara.
”May I help you?” the receptionist at the front desk asks.
”Yeah. Uh, culinary class?” I tell her, holding up my intake form.
She smiles. ”Down the hall. Last door on your right.”
”Thank you.” I take a breath and pass by classrooms on either side of me. Some of them are regular classrooms, with desks and a chalkboard, but there”s one that looks like the inside of a workshop and another that leads to a garage.
Finally, I make it to the right door. I walk inside and glance around.
The space is a large industrial kitchen with a few rows of long, narrow countertops. Next to the counters are stools for each student, and I glance around for a free spot.
Several students are already here, but luckily, I find an empty stool up front. I sit and place my notebook and pencil on the counter in front of me.
The teacher isn”t here yet, and people are murmuring behind me. I”m too nervous to start talking to anyone, so I wait patiently for class to start.
”This your first time?” someone whispers to me.
I turn to my right and see a girl looking at me curiously. She”s around my age, with soft blonde curls and large hazel eyes. I smile at her. ”Is it that obvious?”
She giggles. ”I didn”t mean it like that. What I mean is, it”s my first time, and I was just wondering if it was yours, too… and n-now I”ve said way too much.”
I can”t help but chuckle. ”My name”s Dylan.” I hold out my hand, and she shakes it.
”I”m Gwen. It”s nice to meet you. What made you take the class?”
“I like cooking,” I tell her.
”It”s fun, isn”t it?” She has this big, beaming smile on her face. ”This is just a beginner class, but maybe it”ll open the door to opportunities.”
”Yeah. I haven”t been excited like this in a long time. What made you want to study cooking?”
”Same as you. I”ve been working in a cafe and like making all of the baked goods. Cookies. Cupcakes. Brownies. I want to be a pastry chef eventually.”
”That sounds nice,” I tell her. ”If you ever need a guinea pig to test your pastries, let me know.”
”Oh, yeah? Well, how about after class?” she asks. ”What I mean is… w-we could go to the cafe and have a cupcake or something. A cup of coffee?”
”Well… um?—”
Her eyes grow wide. ”I”m so sorry. I didn”t mean to be forward. You don”t know me, and I”m asking you for a date. And, uh?—”
”Gwen? It”s okay.” I smile at her. ”I”d love to go to this café with you.”
”Okay.” Her cheeks go pink just as the teacher comes through the door.