Hide and Seek.

Chapter 3

Allan walks around the kitchen like he owns the space completely. Like he could ballroom dance thought the room seamlessly with his eyes close, and still not knock a single object out of place. He's familiarized with the space, and not only the kitchen. It feels to him like the whole house is imprinted on the back of his mind, like a map. Remnants from a childhood of looking for the best spots to hide away from his dad's alcohol fueled aggressive bursts. Sarah's house had been a haven for him, and he never felt safer anywhere else.

"Did you make something special for dinner?" Peter asks him, standing in the middle of the open kitchen. "Smells really fucking good."

"I wouldn't say special, exactly. I do dishes like this all the time." Allan puts two plates on the table, already filled with the meat and the side dishes. "I hope you don't mind me making your plate for you. I'm a sucker for presentation."

Peter inspects the plate briefly. There's a piece of meat meticulously cut into a rounded shape, accompanied by something that looks like a risotto and a handful of steamed vegetables. Whatever it is, looks delicious, so he gives Allan an encouraging nod. "I don't, it looks good. I'm not used to that little food, but I'm hoping I can have seconds."

"You're more than welcome to."

Allan watches carefully as he takes the first bite, and makes a humming sound of approval. He liked it.

"Is this like... smoked chicken or something? It's really good, Allan."

"It's a Rosemary, Quinoa and Turkey Loaf, with Arroz con Leche."

"Arroz con Leche? Like...the rice pudding?"

"It's similar, but this is a salty version. The sweet one is Sarah's favorite, though."

"Mine too," He says, fighting with a mouthful of the delicious dinner. It takes a while, but he's able to swallow everything. "Isn't Quinoa one of those...superfoods, or something?" 

He smiles and nods. "It's the only way to make her eat the healthy stuff. I have to shove it inside the meat, so she won't notice."

"Well, lucky her! Marrying a guy who knows his way around the kitchen, and worries about her health."

Suddenly, a shadow crosses Peter's eyes, and Allan feels compelled to try and make it go away. It's a habit, after all, to bend over backwards in order to make people happy.

"About that..."

"Hey, don't worry about it." He says, trying to sound reassuring enough for both of them. "I know that we...I mean...I'm not...her favorite person ever since..."

"Yeah. A lot has changed since that."

"Not everything. You guys are still attached to the fucking hip. Aunt Mary is always telling me just how happy you guys are. Allan this, Allan that. Sarah this, and so on..." Peter tries to hide the hint of bitterness from his voice but thinks that it was a job half-done. Allan is not exactly frowning, but he's not smiling anymore either.

"Aunt Mary sure says a lot of things." He tells Peter, giving him a pointed look. "Heard you got a job on that big law firm in New York. Is it true?"

"Yeah, I mean...it's just a job."

"No way, man. We should celebrate this." He gets up and opens the small wine cellar above the counter. "I have this 2011 Cru Beaujolais, that has been sitting here, just waiting for a special occasion."

He pours the wine equally on two glasses and gently swirls the liquid a couple of times before smelling it. Peter poorly mimics his actions - more so to make him laugh than anything else - and then gives him a pointed look. Allan just smiles. "It's to incorporate oxygen in the wine. It brings out the flavor."

As if convinced by Allan's argument, Peter repeats the step and then takes a small, calculated sip. He makes squinty eyes and nods a few times. "Good, good. Very fruity and dry. I would say it's perfect for summer."

Allan laughs at this attempt. "Do you even know what you're talking about?"

"Do I look like a know?"

"No, it sounds like you're just bullshitting me."

"Bullshitting is a big part of being a lawyer. I would even say I'm an expert at it."

"I'm sure you are."

"But I was serious, the wine is really good. You should use it in the wedding." Allan raises an eyebrow at him in response. "What isn't your wedding special occasion enough?"

"For what kind of savage you mistake me for? Sarah wants chicken, the Cru Beaujolais doesn't go well with chicken."

Peter has to laugh at that. He has absolutely no knowledge about wine, but he decides to go along with whatever Allan is talking about. "What wine goes with it them?"

Allan stops and ponders before answering it. "I'm thinking about either a Sauvignon Blanc or a Nebbiolo if we use some type of mushroom-based sauce. Or maybe some...smoked portobello mushrooms on the side. It's a good combo, I should write that down."

Peter chuckles. "I forgot how passionate you are about food."

"Food is the glue that keeps families together, Peter." He says, matter-of-factly.

"Hey, I think I read that on your blog."

"Yeah, I told this to Sarah one time, and she thought it sounded deep, so she wrote it down. You read our blog?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes. I like to pretend that I could ever cook some of those dishes. Plus I learned a lot about food from it. Like those, hm, the posts that break down the whole like, science of cooking,"

"Back to basics." Allan tells him.

"Yes, that one. I learned a lot from that."

"Well, at least someone is learning. Sarah still doesn't want to go anywhere near the kitchen."

"I don't blame her. Remember that time she tried to bake those cupcakes and almost burned down the kitchen?"

They both laugh. Allan vividly remembered Sarah desperately running around the kitchen with a small tray of blazing-hot black cupcakes.

"Leave it to Sarah to make a whole point about how she could do anything if she put her mind to it and then forget the things in the oven."

"The whole house stank like burnt sugar for like a week. Mom was so fucking pissed at her."

"To this day she still can't eat cupcakes. I think it gives her PTSD"

"Like I said...nothing changed."

"Well, to be fair, she did change a little. She complains that all wine is the same and whatnot, but I've seen her scattering around the house looking for the 2014 Brachetto to eat with her cold turkey sandwiches."

Peter laughs."I don't really know what that means, but I'm guessing is something good."

They go back eating and stay in silent for a while. Allan knows that he probably wants to ask about Sarah, but doesn't know how to introduce the topic without it being somehow uncomfortable. So he decides to step in. "I think she'll have dinner later today."

Peter nods. "She's still working or she just doesn't want to see me?"

"You know how she is, Peter."

That's all the answer he needs. Peter knows what that means. "Yeah, she hates my fucking guts."

"She doesn't hate you, she just...you need to take things at her pace. Baby steps, Peter. Baby steps."

"If you say so..."