Good in Bed

Something Special

"What're you doing, mami?" Victor asks, as he enters the kitchen, the evening summer sun shining sharp as a blade through the window.

"Oh, don't you look nice." Isabel has an apron on over her pink and red floral dress. She's peeling an under ripe plantain from a pile and setting it on the cutting board in front of her, beaming.

Victor smiles weakly in return. "Thanks. You, too."

"You're sweet, mi lindo..." Isabel pauses, mid-peel. "Well, I said I'd make mofongo for dinner tonight, so... I'm making mofongo."

Rolling his eyes and sighing, Victor grabs an apron from the hook on the wall beside the fridge, draping it over his bright purple and yellow shirt and tying it around his waist. Isabel eyes Victor for a short moment before she goes back to busying herself with the plantains.

He washes his hands before he dries them with a paper towel, nudging Isabel away with his hip as he picks up a plantain from the pile. "I got this. You should go finish getting ready before they come."

"What time is it, anyway?" Isabel's face twists and she scoffs, throwing her hands up in frustration before she swipes her wrist across her forehead.

"Like six-thirty."

"Shit... I hope I have time to fix my hair..." She glances at her own reflection in the window and grimaces. "Ay, I look like I just got done playing with you when you were a baby. You never could keep your hands out of my hair."

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, sheepish, Victor passes the tip of the paring knife through the tough peel of the plantain before he slips his finger into the slit to separate the exterior from the starchy fruit inside with a crack, all under Isabel's suspicious gaze. "Seriously, I know what to do. I've watched you make it plenty of times. Might not be as good as yours, but..." He clicks his tongue. "They won't know the difference."

"Okay, well... if you know what to do... have at it, then." Isabel wrenches off her apron, hesitating as she watches him for a second longer. She restrains her smile and shuffles over to the doorway. "Don't forget the g--"

"The garlic, I know." Victor doesn't look up as he slices the bare plantain into small sections and gathers it into the bowl beside him on the counter.

"And the--"

"Oh my god, mom, just go!"

"Ay dios mio! Okay, okay. Fine. Just shout if you need me. I'm going for real."

Once Isabel finally exits the kitchen, Victor's shoulders relax as he continues cutting the plantains, humming quietly to himself as the knife clacks against the board. He fills the bowl to the brim with the final rounds of plantain before he wipes his hand in the front of his apron and crosses the kitchen to where the pots and pans are hanging above the stove, grabbing a large pot and placing it gently on the front burner. On the backburner, a pot of tomato and pepper sauce simmers gently.

As he pours the oil into the pot, his pocket vibrates, and Victor turns on the burner as he sets the bottle of oil aside on the countertop.

He peeks down at the oven, which is warm and lit, and opens it ever so slightly, peering inside at the two dishes perfuming the air with adobo and cumin. Closing the oven, he turns around to lean against the counter as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, eyebrows knitted together.

"I need ur help to decide what to wear pls 🥺👉👈" Benji had written.

Victor glances over his shoulder and exhales before he opens the chain of messages between them.