The House

Chapter 28 - Day3: Waking Up

I smell onions. Frying onions, to be precise!

My stomach growling and my mouth watering, I wake up from the weirdest dream I've ever had, but I'm not lying in my bed at home, and I'm not hearing Craig singing off-key while cooking something inedible in our small kitchen. Forcing my eyes open, I can make out the blurry outlines of the furniture that lived in my dream seconds ago.

I move my body stiffly, struggling to rise from a stuffed leather bench of some kind. I feel drugged, the way I always do, after taking an unplanned nap. This might've been a comfortable place to rest 300 years ago, but now the leather is cracked, and the stuffing is lumpy. I slowly sit up, surprised to feel the soft throw blanket, previously draped over the back of the couch, slip from my shoulders. The blanket woven in sunset colours is one of the few things in this house that is not ancient.

This house...

It wasn't a dream; I really am in La Belle Pêche's kitchen, lounging on the padded lid of the large wooden box, housing empty containers that once upon a time would've stored things like rice, sugar and flour but are now only home to a small collection of dried up, dead bugs that got trapped in there years ago. 

To my relief, I recognise David's back standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. He was the one thing in the strange dream I really wanted to wake up to find in reality. The aroma of whatever he is stir-frying, together with the toasted bread I'm smelling, is making me extremely hungry.

"Hi," I croak drily, hoping I do not sound as thrilled to see him as I am. I do have my dignity to think of, after all. "What are you making?"

Startled, David stiffens and spins around to give me a rather guilty look. "I'm sorry, I promise I don't usually just take over like this, but you fell asleep at the table and were about to fall off your chair, so I put you on the bench. I didn't want to wake you because you seemed exhausted, but I'm really hungry, and I thought you might be too when you woke up. I promise I'll replace whatever I've used."

Standing, I stretch very unfemininely once David's back is turned again and cross the floor to join him at the stove.

"No, I'm sorry for falling asleep on you... that was really weird." I stifle a yawn and frown at the strange, unappetizing-looking concoction in the pan. "Please, help yourself to whatever you need. How long was I asleep for?"

"About three hours. The clocks' last tantrum didn't even wake you."

"Three hours? I'm so sorry."

"Why? I'm not an invited guest. I'm a gate-crashing... maintenance man," he grins. "Besides, you really seemed to need it. I wasn't completely useless; at least I got your car running and moved it out of that muddy patch."

"Oh! Thank you! That was very kind of you." So, I managed to park in the only muddy patch on the paving? Typical Lunabelle Emmerson! I'm really touched and feel all kinds of guilty just checking out on him like that. He could've done so many less chivalrous things, but he made me comfortable and looked after my car instead. 

"What are you making?" I ask again. It looks like messy scrambled eggs with herbs and spices and quite a bit of red blended in there as well.

"For some reason, my grandmother used to call it Chimpera, but I don't know why. It's scrambled egg with fried onions and chopped tomatoes mixed into it. It tastes a lot better than it looks, I promise. Her version always looked a lot better," he chuckles and then his smile melts into a look of concern. "I took it that since these ingredients are all yours, you won't be allergic to any of them..."

"You're right. Thanks for making... uhm..." It is a lot less bright in the kitchen than it was before I went to sleep, and judging by what I see through the windows, I think the sun must've set already because it's grown pretty dark outside. It could also just be the overwhelmingly thick clouds wrapping the house in impenetrable mist, causing the heavy dusk in the kitchen. The gentle light of the kitchen globe is not doing much to brighten things, but it certainly adds a lot of atmosphere. "Dinner, I guess?"