Time flew by and before I knew it, it was almost mid summer and I was neck deep in searching for a job. Michael had told me to take a year off and just have fun, but I refused. I needed to do something useful. So, not long after I had my surgery done and got the cysts removed, I started calling around and handing out resumes to whatever job that caught my interest. And since I graduated in sociology and had a major in psychology, the market was pretty open. It didn't make it any easier, though. Especially since some of the people I talked to were busier asking questions about Michael, rather than listening to me when I tried to elaborate on my qualifications and why I wanted the job.
I was quick to rule out jobs within the policy and market research analyst field. That was boring as heck, and didn't give me the satisfaction of making a difference. I wanted to feel useful and help people. Especially because of my own childhood. If it wasn't for the system picking up on my biological mother's drug issues as early as they did, I wouldn't be alive today. And since I knew how it felt to be in foster care and sent from family to family for a few years, I wanted to help children so that they didn't have to go through all of that. At least not that long. Of course, I knew it wouldn't be easy, but at least I could do my best.
"Wow... I mean, thank you. Y-yes, I'll see you on Monday. Third floor? Fourth? Okay, that's... Wow... Thank you. Bye."
I hung up and stared at my phone until I heard Michael walking up behind me.
"Is everything okay?" he asked.
"I..."
"You?"
"I got the job," I said silently. Then the realization hit me with full force and it felt like I was exploding with joy and relief.
"I got the job! Oh, my God! I got the job, Michael!"
I had already leapt up from where I was sitting on the couch, and almost crashed into his arms.
"Congratulations, babe. I'm so happy for you. Which one is it? The one in Glendale?"
"No, it's here. Here in Santa Barbara, at the Tri-counties regional center. Oh, my gosh. I can't believe it!"
We kissed and Michael chuckled at my eagerness.
"Yikes! I'm not a student anymore. I'm officially an adult, and the next on the list will be grey hair and mid-life crisis. Oh, no..." I ranted, and Michael shook his head.
"I think you skipped a few stages."
"Oh?" I asked. My mind was all over the place.
"Yeah," he said and kissed my forehead, before he grabbed my hand and made me look at the promise ring. "The part where I ask you to marry me, and this turns into a proper engagement ring."
My jaw fell open and I just stared at him.
"And the part where you walk up the aisle and say yes to being my wife."
The smile and his eyes were sparkling like a thousand stars when he spoke, and my body was trembling all over.
"And the day we become parents, in one way or another."
He kissed me again, and I finally found my voice again.
"You know that I just grew up, right? Like, literally five minutes ago?"
Michael's laughter was so contagious that I started giggling, too. Then we just hugged, and I loved the way the voice rumbled in his chest.
"I'd love that," I whispered eventually, and pulled away just enough to look at him. "I'd love all of that. And I love you more than anything."
I wished I could see him smile just like he did in that very moment all the time. That would be my reason to live. To make him happy. To be able to love him, and to do everything he said and then some. His smile was simply... Perfection.
"I feel like celebrating," I said with sudden determination.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Why don't you give your chef the rest of the day off? We can make dinner together, and maybe you can teach me how to make that delicious filet mignon of yours?"
His smile dropped like a stone.
"Y-yeah. Uhm... That's a very... Very good idea."
I frowned a bit. I thought he would like that idea? Just the two of us, making l... Food. In the kitchen.
Michael cleared his throat.
"I just have a couple of things to do at the studio first. Nothing big. I'll be back in a couple of hours. See ya'!"
And before I even got to reply, he was out, and the door slammed shut behind him.
<><><>
"Filet mignon," I mumbled to myself while twiddling my fingers.
How could I be so stupid to believe Mia would forget about that? That had all been one giant lie. It was my chef who had prepared everything, only so I could impress my girlfriend and take all the credit. But hey, I was the one paying for it. Didn't that count? Yeah... No. Not the least. So in panic, I called mother to let her know that I was on my way, and that it was an emergency and she had to prepare the meat. I didn't realize until later that she'd gotten the impression that I was beaten and needed something to cool down the bruises. Not until I saw the pack of frozen peas in her hand when I arrived.
"You should be really glad I don't put these into use," she scolded, while pointing at the bag in her hand. "Giving your mother a heart attack like that... You could at least have told me that it was about cooking. An emergency? Pff."
"But it is an emergency!" I objected, only to be met by a raised eyebrow and a look I knew too well.
"Okay, so maybe I overreacted a little bit, but I need to learn how to cook filet mignon. And fast."
"So your chef accidentally chopped both of her arms off?"
"No, but Mia..."
"Ahh... Of course," she mumbled and hit her forehead with her palm. "I should've known that the only thing that would scare you into the kitchen would be to impress a girl."
"Scare?! Mother!"
She chuckled in her typical way, and I relaxed a bit more.
"Okay, then. Let's start, shall we? I think I have something in the freezer. It won't give the best result, but it'll do for now."
"What do you mean 'not the best result'?"
"Because you should get fresh meat when cooking something as delicate as this."
"Hm," was the only answer I could think of. I'd already decided to shut my mouth and listen to what she had to say. And while she searched for everything we needed, I washed my hands and tried to calm down and focus.
"Found it," she smiled and held up a large piece of meat wrapped in plastic.
"When you go to the store, ask for tenderloin or short loin. Tell them that it's to make filet mignon, so they don't give you the lower half. You need the part of the rib cage that runs along the spine, closest to the head."
"Okay. So... What kind of meat is it? Pork? Cow?"
"Fish."
"Huh?" I exclaimed wide-eyed. Then I pouted grumpily when she laughed at my reaction.
"It's cow, son. Now, filet mignon is French and means tender filet, and when cooked properly, you won't even have to use a knife to cut through the meat. It will literally fall apart under your fork. I've never managed that, though, but at least it's not like rubber."
She smiled again and I could tell she was enjoying this very rare moment. Having mother and son bonding time wasn't on the agenda very often, if at all, and to have it in the kitchen was something neither of us would ever have envisioned. It was highly appreciated nevertheless.
"This is not the most flavorful cuts of beef, but I'll teach you the mix of seasoning and herbs I use, or you can buy the premade ones at the store."
"Nothing premade," I mumbled. "Mia's gonna be hanging over my shoulder all the time, so I better act like I know what I'm doing."
I could tell she wanted to laugh, and honestly I didn't blame her. The whole situation was a bit pathetic, and I was so unbelievably relieved that neither of my brothers were here right now. If they were, I wouldn't hear the end of it.
"Okay. So let's defrost and marinate the meat, and we'll prepare the potatoes, vegetables and the gravy while we wait."
So we did. And I loved every second of it. The way she explained and pointed out the things that could go wrong, and even what to do to save the food if something unfortunate actually did happen. She helped me write the list of things to buy, and even suggested what kind of dessert that would complete the meal. I can assure you that it wasn't the kind of dessert I had in mind.
"I think you'll handle this perfectly well, son," she said and gave me a hug.
"Thanks. I'll let you know how it went."
"Good. I better call for Joseph while the food is still warm, then. He'll probably think he forgot our anniversary or something. It's not often I bother to cook this kind of luxury meal for the two of us. At least not on the weekdays."
She chuckled and gave me one final hug before we said goodbye, and I whistled a happy tune on my way to the car. My driver gave me a confused glance, but didn't ask, and he shook his head at the list of things he had to buy. But when I came home with my arms filled with bags of meat, vegetables, ice-cream and wine, my jaw dropped to the floor together with the groceries.
Because there, in the middle of the living room, I found Mia sitting on top of a person lying on the floor, moaning and screaming words I didn't understand.
"Whatta...?"