The Knife's Got Reflections by Mia Salehudin

Chapter 1

I looked down at the table as the waitress came by to pour iced green tea into our cups. She carried the ceramic jug back into the kitchen. The black and red noren above the door flapped when she went through.

Zef let out a small sigh, his short dark hair glistening beneath the hanging lamp. There were grey and orange carps swimming around water lilies on the lamp's paper shade.

"You just got back. Why do you have to go again?" he asked. "Do you even know what it's going to be like over there?"

I took a sip of tea, holding the small sand-colored cup with both my hands. "It's not like I've got any other choice."

"Nuha, how many times have I told you? We find our own choices. If there's none, we make one."

"Tell me not to go then."

He put down his wooden chopsticks and looked down at the plate of prawn nigiri in front of him. His face darkened. He'd been smiling just a minute ago. Without even looking at me, he uttered: "No. You go."

"I wouldn't if you'd just tell me to stay..."

"Go. Make a chef out of yourself."

I thought I detected sarcasm in his voice, but Zef wasn't that kind of person.

I guess I hadn't really been expecting him to be thrilled for me. But at least, maybe, he might have asked me to stay. I could feel my chest tighten up. I had been kind of hopeful he'd tell me that I have got a place here, where I was nearer to him.

We finished our meal silently. Later, we pretended the conversation never happened. We left the restaurant and he asked me if I wanted ice-cream. I said I was full, so we went into a book shop where we browsed through the cookbooks. He showed me his favorites and I showed him mine. He was smiling again. I would surely miss that smile, I knew it.

"I almost forgot." He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jeans and showed it to me. On the screen was a photo of him standing next to Chef Grant Achatz. I yanked it from him. Grant Achatz was one of my all-time favorite chefs. He is a cooking genius.

"When was this?"

"He was on this Asian tour and had a workshop at the Paramount Singapore last week. I took a day off and went for it."

"Well, aren't you inconsiderate? You could have told me right? You know how much I admire the man. You should have taken me with you!"

He took the phone back from me."It's just too bad then."

I pouted. In truth, I just didn't want this to end. If only this could go on forever... him and me, us browsing bookshops together, arguing about recipes and Michelin starred chefs.

"Kiasu," I muttered.

"No, I'm not. Well... maybe just a bit." He slid the phone back into his pocket and placed the copy of Keller's French Laundryback onto the shelf. "Can I make it up with dessert then?"

We sat by the white marble fountain in the small park, with Polar Bear gelato cups in hand. Small kids skittered pass us, carrying balloons and plastic swords.

"I've been meaning to ask you... how was Switzerland like?"

I took a spoonful of chocolate hazelnut dream. "It was great. I had a great time."

"What did you love most about it?"

I thought about it and smiled at all the possible answers I might give to Zef. "The place itself. It's beautiful. Everywhere you turn, you'll get a million dollar postcard view. I even had a postcard view of Mount Pilatus from my window. You must've seen the pictures right?" I said, referring to the postcards I'd sent him.