Dinner for Two, Plus One?

The house seemed to groan in protest as Freddie began his work in the kitchen.

He smiled, taking the complaint in stride. What was it they said; everyone is a critic? He didn’t really understand why people said that; most people were not critics. Though, he knew, many people were prone to criticism. But now, in the age of cellphones, Yelp, and Google Maps, maybe most people did think of themselves as actual critics? Freddie didn’t know.

It didn’t really matter though, in the end, he knew everything would work out as it was meant to. There wasn’t any reason to stress or panic. The meal would come out fine. Dinner would be nice.

It would be just the two of them, for the first time in a while.

Well, just the three of them, really, depending on how you counted.

Freddie glanced around the room, taking stock of his inventory. Things had a way to move about when he wasn’t looking. Sure enough, though the two pots he’d sat on the stovetop were still there, the skillet was gone. The dishes. Why was it always the dishes? Freddie knelt down and checked the cabinet where he kept his pots and pans.

No skillet. Of course.

“Where did you put it this time?” He asked, but of course, there was no answer.

Freddie began to search the room when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The small shape darted out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He followed, pausing to check the entryway before moving towards the living room. Freddie stopped; something wasn’t right.

The house was silent, and the small shape he’d seen had vanished, but something was out of place in the hall. He turned away from the living room and looked again. There, the front door wasn’t closed all the way.

He’d missed it the first time because though the door appeared closed, it wasn’t latched. Only a tiny strip of light was shining in from outside. Freddie opened the door, quickly scanning the front porch. There it was, sitting on top of the table at the far end was the skillet.

Freddie took a single step outside and stopped. He glanced back at the door and smiled. He knew this game and was pretty sure he knew where this was heading.

“Don’t do it.” He said to no one in particular. “Just, you know. Let’s not this time, alright?”

With that, he crossed the porch, grabbed the skillet from the table, and turned back to the front door.

Which was closed.

“Oh. Yes. Very amusing.” Freddie said, standing in front of the door and trying the knob. It was locked. Of course. “Alright,” He said, “I know you don’t really trust this, but I’m telling you, the fish is going to be great. All of it’s going to be really good. And you miss Jenni, don’t you?” He asked, looking around the porch for any sign of movement, but saw nothing.

He tried the door again, to no avail. “Normally, I’d be happy to wait out here most of the day. Maybe just order in. It’s nice out here after all, but I promised Jenni a homecooked meal this evening. You don’t want her to be disappointed, do you?” He asked.

Something brushed against his leg, and Freddie looked down to see a large black cat winding its way between his feet. The animal paused, then glanced up at him before he heard the door click open. Freddie pushed the door open, then looked down again, and though he heard the sound of tiny feet running through the hallway towards the kitchen, the cat was gone.

Inside, Freddie found the two pots already filled with water and boiling. He wondered about this but decided it wasn’t worth fretting over. It was as it was. But how had it reached the countertop?

Moving on, Freddie placed the skillet onto the stove. He added rice to one of the boiling pots then turned down the heat on the other before adding the frozen vegetables. The rice and vegetables would take about twice as long to cook as the fish, so Freddie decided to sit down to read while he waited at the kitchen table.

Freddie opened the worn-out copy of Alan Watts’s ‘The Book’ and flipped through the pages until he found his place. He never used bookmarks; he didn’t need them. Freddie always remembered where he was in a book. Not so much by page number, but by the feel and always being able to recall the first line of the last page he’d read. Freddie had read this book thirty-seven times so far, but he never tired of it.

For Freddie, books were like that. No matter how many times he read them, he always enjoyed rereading them. Even long after memorizing the entire book, something about going back to read something he’d again felt comforting and familiar. This one was one of his favorites.

As he read, Freddie heard something heavy fall to the floor upstairs. He glanced up from the book and listened. The thing seemed to drag itself along the floor before standing up with two heavy footsteps. It began to walk across the room, its steps echoing through the house. Freddie just sat and listened. The steps moved out of the spare room, into the hallway, and towards the bathroom. There was silence for several moments, then Freddie heard the shower start.

With a quiet sigh, Freddie returned to the book while he waited.

Lost in his reading, Freddie jumped when a drop of something fell onto the top of his hand. He stiffened for a second, surprised, then closed the book and sat it down to inspect the spot. It was red. He touched it and found that the liquid was thick and sticky. He smelled it, detecting the metallic odor of blood. Freddie looked up towards the ceiling but saw nothing to indicate where the drop had come from.

Standing from the table, Freddie walked towards the oven to grab a towel when he noticed that the rice was about to boil over.

“Ah! Right!” He said, grabbing the towel that hung from the handle on the oven door. “Thanks. I forgot.” He said, turning the heat off on the rice and lifting the pot up to allow it to cool down more quickly. He sat the pot down again a moment later and covered it with a glass lid that didn’t fit quite right.

Freddie hung the towel back on the handle and rechecked his progress.

The rice was resting now. The veggies were basically done; they just needed to steep until the fish was ready. All that was left was the main course. So, Freddie turned the heat on under the skillet, added a splash of oil, and got back to work.

Freddie pulled the fish from the sink, cutting the small pouches open one at a time and smelling them for freshness. Satisfied, he placed them on a plate and seasoned them on each side. Nothing fancy, just some seasoning salt, garlic, and a lovely lemon pepper mixture he preferred. Then he placed each of them onto the hot skillet to sear.

As Freddie was setting the table, he felt someone walk into the kitchen behind him.

“My love,” Said a woman’s voice. Jenni’s voice.

Freddie smiled, turning to look at her. “Ma’am.” He said.

She glowered at him. “Jenni.” She corrected.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, smiling back. Freddie didn’t understand much humor, but this one was easy. It was called playful teasing, and Jenni thought it was adorable, even though she acted like she didn’t. It was confusing at first, but he had figured it out in time.

“Something smells good.” She said as he pulled out a chair and offered it to her.

“Yes. I made lemon pepper tilapia with rice and veggies.” He said as she sat down.

“Lovely. I’m starved.”

Freddie paused, wonder if Jenni really hadn’t eaten in more than seven days. She must have noticed the look on his face because he felt her place her hand over his.

“Just an expression love. I’m very hungry, and it sounds wonderful.”

“Ah. Thank you. I hope you like it. How was your trip?” He asked as he began to prepare the three plates he’d lined up on the counter.

“It was alright,” Jenni said. “Fourteen arrested, one dead. All of the girls are free, though. On their way to treatment or the hospital. Some of them will need some pretty serious help.”

“Oh my,”  Freddie said as he brought over the first plate and sat it in front of his girlfriend.

“Yeah, it’s like that. These people, they really put those girls through a lot. They promise them safety and freedom here, then take advantage of them. Sell them to these places where they’re used like….”

It was Freddie’s turn to put his hand over hers. “I know, love. You did well. You got them. Right?”

“Yeah.” She whispered. “But…”

“You did well, but you can’t save them all.” He said.

“I know.” She said, closing her eyes. Then she smiled up at him again. All the pain from a moment before gone as if it had never been there. “Three plates tonight?”

“Yes.”

“For…” She trailed off.

“Yes.” He said.

Jennie watched him as he gathered up the two remaining plates from the counter and sat them at the table. Freddie pulled out another chair and waited.  

“Are you sure?” Jenni whispered, but Freddie only smiled at her and held his finger to his lips.

After several long moments, a dark shape began to inch its way into the room. The cat stopped, glancing around as if nervous, before darting forward and leaping up into the chair.

Acting as though nothing unexpected had happened, Freddie moved around the table and sat down in his own seat. He smiled at Jenni. “It’s been a while now since we’ve all been together. I’ve missed you, and I know I’m not the only one. I know what you do is dangerous. We both do, and we know why you do it. Still, we worry when we can’t be with you.”

Freddie glanced at the other seat then continued.

“So we’re glad you’re home. And we’re thankful you’re back with us, safe again. To celebrate, I thought we’d all enjoy a meal together. So please. Enjoy.”

Jenni smiled at him, then looked across the table to see a young woman where the cat had been moments before. “Thank you for this,” Jenni said.

The girl looked up and smiled at her.

“You’re the only man I know that makes dinner for the ghost in his house,” Jenni said.

“And you’re the only woman I know who would enjoy it,” Freddie said. “Now, please, let’s eat.”