Chapter 10 Orion
ORION
“How about now?” Albert says—Bertie says—holding out the spoon.
He’s making something called bacon jam, of all things, but it’s absolutely devastating.
It’s simple—bacon, onion and brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce, and an unusual smoked paprika—but it packs a punch.
I suppose you can never go wrong with bacon, particularly when you pair it with one of his baguettes.
“Maybe a touch of pepper? Or maybe not. It has a certain clarity just the way it is.”
“Let’s try it—I’m always up for trying something new.” He turns to Jake, who is attentively assisting us in the kitchen. “Oh, look…there’s an extra piece of bacon. I wonder if there’s anyone who would like it. No? So sad. I guess it will just have to go in the trash.”
“Woof!”
I turn back to my project to hide my smile, but actually, I don’t need to hide, so I let my tentacles dance with the pleasure of it.
I haven’t felt this free since I moved out to California.
My tentacles were never an issue back home with my family, but everywhere else, not so much.
It feels good to let them fade into the background, not an issue, and focus on cooking.
Bertie has tasked me with two variations of stuffed endive: a sweet one with Roquefort cheese, honey, walnuts, and pears, and a savory one with chives, crème fra?che, and caviar.
My tentacles are in ecstasy with the intense flavors.
I often toss some blue cheese on my salads, but Roquefort takes it to a new level.
The sharp musty-moldy blueness is almost too much, but they keep begging for another taste.
The caviar is a revelation. I’ve never encountered a flavor quite like it, and they’re so fun.
I stop my chopping and give them a few more on the tip of my finger.
They roll the tiny eggs around and explore the smooth buttery surface.
The temptation is irresistible, so I let them squeeze, bursting each one in an explosion of salty-briny intensity.
Then they pop the remains in my mouth, ready for another round.
“You’re having too much fun!” Bertie says. He stopped his work, watching the whole spectacle. I lick the last bit of caviar off one of my lip tentacles, and he smiles. No disgust, no fainting, no cruel words. Just a smile.
“Sorry, I should get back to this,” I say, turning back to my chopping before I’m overcome by that smile. “It’s just this caviar. I’ve never had anything like it.”
“I’m glad we could introduce you to a new pleasure.”
The caviar and Roquefort are great, but the real pleasure is being here cooking with Bertie, talking with Bertie, after so many years of cooking by myself.
“You have a beautiful house,” I say, arranging the endives artfully on a platter. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thanks!” he says, obviously proud. “That’s a tribute to our double-income-no-kids status, and we bought it years ago, when things were still affordable. How about you?”
“My place is smaller, but it suits me and Jake. I also bought when the market was more in the realm of sanity, so the mortgage isn’t a problem.”
“Right? I can hardly believe the comps these days. I don’t know how young people can afford anything.”
“There must be some young families in your neighborhood, though,” I say, remembering the blow-up Santas and arrays of candy canes. “There are some serious decorations down the street.”
“You’ve got that right. We’re also mobbed at Halloween. Unfortunately, Hidie and I have been mired down in work, and we haven’t had much time to focus on decorations.”
“Not to be rude or anything, but I was wondering about that. You have this big Hallmark house…”
“...but no Hallmark decorations. Sad but true. We have them, and we used to decorate back when we first met, but we’ve gotten out of the habit. The season comes and goes so quickly…”
“And you’re busy with work. I understand completely. I’m in the same boat. Seems like I always have a deadline with my freelance work, and Enzo wasn’t at a place in his career to contribute much.”
“I was sorry to hear about your breakup. Hideo mentioned it.”
“Thanks. It’s been rough, but not unexpected. I’m doing better now that he’s moved his stuff out, but little things still set me off. I bought him a present—it would have been our first Christmas together—but I didn’t get a chance to give it to him. It’s just a sweater, but…”
“I’m guessing you can’t wear it? You're as big as Paul Bunyan, after all.”
I have to laugh at this. “You have that right. I’ve never found a sweater that fits.”
“Hidie-ho and I haven’t exchanged presents in years,” Bertie says, looking thoughtful. “We buy everything we need, so we’ve gotten out of the habit.”
“Seems like you celebrate in plenty of other ways, like cooking together and celebrating with friends.”
“Yes,” Bertie says, coming over and giving me another hug. “And celebrating with new friends! Are you finished with those endives? I could use some help with the artichokes.”
Oh, how I want to give this adorable man a kiss! Just a quick one, but I don’t dare. He’s married, and I’d never be able to keep my tentacles in check.
The platters of tasty treats are all laid out and ready, but I’m getting nervous.
No, that’s too soft a term. I’m terrified, complete with cold sweat and an inescapable feeling of impending doom.
The day has been wonderful, but it could all evaporate in seconds if I offend their guests. Why did I let them talk me into this?
“Here,” Hideo says, rubbing the back of my neck and handing me a bubbly glass of Prosecco. “I know it’s hard, but try to relax.”
“I need my mask,” I say. I need to hide myself. I need to protect Bertie and Hideo. This is bound to be a disaster, like so many times before.
“Let’s try it without,” Bertie suggests, stroking his hand on my arm. “Like you always do with me at the bakery.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t want to scare…”
“Trust me,” Bertie says, taking my hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. “It won’t be a problem. Just leave everything to us.”
The doorbell rings before I have any more time to dither, so I tuck my tentacles away and hope for the best.
They bound into the kitchen, laden with bags and plates, three of them, pretty much a matched set.
Two heavyset bears with big brown beards, maybe early forties, one with his beard in Lord-of-the-Rings braids.
The third is a thinner fellow with an even longer beard, gone almost entirely snow white, and styled with a dramatic waxed mustache and several small Christmas ornaments dangling in the forest of white cascading over his chest.
I stand off to the side, out of the way and clutching my glass, as they offload their stuff and exchange a few hugs. It’s not too late to escape. I’ll just say hi and make an excuse, then Jake and I can flee to safety.
Hideo says, “I’d like you to meet our friend Orion.”
All three men turn to look at me and I’m near panic. Somehow, I retreat more tightly against the wall.
The fellow with the braids says, “My god, Bertie, you said he had a beautiful beard, but I never imagined.”
He walks over and sticks out a hand, saying, “Nice to meet you, Orion, I’m Carl. The sexy brunette over there is Bob, and the fellow with the silver whiskers is Paul.”
Paul adds, “But please call me Pops.”
I manage to squeak out, “Hi,” slopping some of my drink in the process, but I’m concentrating too hard on keeping everything in place to do much more.
“And who is this handsome fellow?” Carl says, kneeling down to give Jake some attention. Jake is beside himself with all these new people to meet, and his tail hasn’t stopped for an instant.
“This is my best buddy Jake,” I say, starting to relax, but I don’t dare. I can only hold them back if I pay attention. It’s time to come up with an excuse to duck out. I really, really should have worn the mask.
“So guys,” Bertie says, “we need to get something out of the way before Orion explodes.”
Hideo continues, “Orion has a little special something extra.”
“I bet he does!” Bob says, giving me a lusty once-over.
Hideo takes my hand and says quietly, “Go ahead. We’re right here with you.”
Can I do this?
I close my eyes and let my tentacles unfurl, and I hear a gasp. Gasps. I don’t hear any crashing plates or falling bodies, but I can’t bear to look.
Hideo squeezes my hand and asks, “All okay there, Orion?”
I nod and open my eyes, expecting the worst, and they’re all staring.
With big smiles.
“Oh my fucking god,” Carl says. “Are they real? This isn’t a trick, is it? Say it isn’t.”
“No trick,” Hideo says. “Can I offer everyone some bubbly?”
He steps out in front of me, brandishing the bottle and distracting them as they juggle glasses and wine.
I see he’s totally doing this on purpose, giving me some distance, some shelter, if I need it.
It’s so thoughtful. Do I need it? They’re all still on their feet, so maybe it won’t be a disaster. Maybe I’ll stick around to see.
Bertie sidles over and whispers, “I give them about five minutes.”
“Five minutes? Until what?” I ask, starting to catch my breath.
“You’ll see, but I’ll give you a hint. I didn’t last even one minute.”
The kitchen is a flurry of foil and plastic wrap as everyone unwraps their creations and positions them for best effect.
I shuffle over to the fridge, trying to stay in the background, and spend far too much time retrieving my deviled eggs, giving myself a moment to breathe.
Could it really be true? I focus on making a place for them on the table, next to the endive, and carefully shift each egg back into the symmetrical rosette pattern, waiting to see what’s next.
The guys are also intent on arranging the table of treats, but they keep darting glances at me. Interested glances. Admiring glances, and not just at my body. At my face. Carl nudges Pops and whispers. “Go. Go ask him.”
I get a glimmer of what’s coming, and it would be such an unexpected pleasure. If it’s true, I’m all in. I wait and wonder, close to the moment of truth.
Pop catches my eye as he walks over, and says, “I’m sorry, Orion. I know it’s very rude, since we just met, but we were wondering…”
“Please, feel free,” I say, finally relaxing. “Touch all you like. I think they like the attention.”