Dropped Dumplings

Jack drove up to the house. He checked the address twice against the directions, then noticed Thomas’s car down the street. Smiling, he got out and approached the door. Ian opened it as he knocked.

“You found it!”

“I found the store too,” Jack said, opening his pack. “I got the pretzels, pizza, and soda right here.”

Ian grinned; and a girl's voice called out to them to shut the door, or else the cats might escape, and they quickly came inside. In the other room was a large table, and Ian introduced Jack to the others.

Thomas was Jack’s best friend, all the way since elementary school, but the three sisters were new to him.

Sophie was the shortest and most stylish. The oldest girl there rocked a blond pixy cut and wore a red and black corset over a lacy skirt. Emmie was the tallest and had straight brown hair. The middle sibling was plain and thin; and wore a modest polo shirt and blue jeans. The youngest, Maggie, was a good mix of her sisters. She was of middle height, and while she wore a plane black shirt and jeans, everything was ripped in a very purposeful way. She wore glittering necklaces, and when she stood up from the table, Jack glimpsed a colorful tattoo beneath the tears of her clothes.

Jack laughed a little louder than normal at a joke Thomas told to hide his reddening face.

“So, thank you again for joining me,” Ian said to them all as Maggie sat back at the table. She set two bowls out before them. “Five players I feel is the perfect amount. But since some of you haven’t played before we’ll just be going over the rules today, and play for real next Sunday.”

“Dungeon and Dragon has rules?” said Jack. “I would have never thought.”

“Right? Who would have guessed?” said Maggie.

“It’s good we hear the rules, so we know how to break them later,” said Tomas. “I’m going to give Ian a hard time later to get back at him for yesterday- oh! Hi Ian, we didn’t see you there.”

“Shut up, I still hate you.”

“Hey Tomas, thanks again for giving me the win.”

“Shut up Jack! Ug, why did I invite you clowns?”

Everyone laughed and Maggie grinned at Jack as she poured a bag of pretzels into a bowl.

“Oh, you already had some?” Jack asked getting his own from his bag.

“Different kind,” she said, passing him both bowls, “these are my favorite. Try them.”

“We can enjoy two different kinds of snacks,” said Ian. “Now everyone shut up, let me talk.”

Still smiling they each sat back and listened. Jack poured his pretzels from his bag and tried Maggie’s. He smiled and gave her two thumbs up, which she returned across the table. She flicked her hair to the side and turned to listen to Ian, and Jack did likewise. As Ian explained the game, Jack’s eyes kept returning to Maggie, and thought it was pretty cool that a girl seamed to like him, and one that shared his favorite food.

…

Later that night Jack’s father asked how the game went. Jack told them they hadn’t played, not really, which baffled his father completely.

“So long as you have fun I suppose,” he said. “And you have girl’s playing with you? Well, I’ll be.”

“They’re all nice,” said Jack.

“Sure. And are any of them pretty?”

“They’re all pretty, and nice, and one of them really likes pretzels.”

“Oh? As much as you three? She’ll fit right in with your group. Food is the best way to a man’s heart after all.”

“That’s… true, isn’t it? It goes both ways though, right?”

“Food?” asked his father. “Sure, everyone likes food. Why?”

“Nothing,” Jack said quickly. “Hey, let me put my stuff down. Talk to you in a bit…”

…

The next day Jack switched shift at work, and a week later when the next game came around, he spent the morning making Ciabatta bread. His father eyed it and the muster cheese, but when he tried to make a sandwich with them Jack stopped him.

“They’re for the game tonight,” he said. “Now I’m going to the store for some roast beef and lettuce, and we’ll all have a nice dinner with that.”

Jack's father sighed and dug through the fridge for leftovers. He found nothing, and so made himself a PB&J with store bought sourdough. When Jack returned from the store his father noticed a new bag or pretzels and a six pack of soda.

“Are you drinking soda now?”

“No, not really, they’re for Maggie and everyone.”

His father nodded and let his son busy about and pack up the food. Once Jack had left his father let himself grin.

“Not Thomas, not Ian, not whoever the other sisters are; but Maggie…”

…

After living in the same house for so long, Jack’s father had developed a knack of reading his family’s emotions from how they opened the door and walked in. That night Jack cracked the door open slowly. It shut, slowly. A moment later things were placed on the table. A long moment later the fridge opened. There was no singing, or humming, or bustle of excitement.

“Welcome home Jack,” his father said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Did you have a good game?”

“Oh, yeah, it was fine.”

“Good, that’s good. And did your friends like the sandwiches?”

“Oh, yeah, Thomas and Ian liked them plenty.”

“Not the girls?”

“Ah, Emmie ate one first, and got sick. Sophie, Maggie, and her are all allergic.”

“Allergic to what?”

“Gluten. Apparently it’s a thing to do with wheat that makes dough for bread stretchy, and everything will have gluten in it unless it’s made with special gluten free flour.”

“Didn’t you say she liked pretzels?”

“She does!” said Jack. “The kind she gave me last time were gluten free. And the pizzas we’ve been eating for dinner were gluten free too.”

“So,” his father said. “If you want to make sandwiches for everyone, you’ll have to learn to make some gluten free bread for the girls.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Well, I can make normal bread, so baking things gluten free can’t be that hard, can it?”

…

Jack’s father watched his son over the next few months. Every week he would make something gluten-full for Thomas, Ian, and himself, and also attempt a gluten free dish for the sisters. There were several mornings where Jack fretted and flailed after failing a new recipe. He slumped off to the game with only food for the boy half of his friends, but would return home in better spirits. His father didn’t want to pry, but occasionally he’d ask about how the game went, or how his friends were doing; to which his son would reply something like; “We had a lot of fun tonight, Ian’s enjoying himself a lot,” or “Thomas is doing well. He really liked the pizza I made for us today.”

“Oh, and how are you liking the sisters?”

“Well, the oldest sister Sophie is pretty nice,” said Jack one evening.

“She’s the most put together out of the three, and she gets along well with everyone. The middle sister Emmie is kind of just there. She really like the combat part of the game but not the rest; which is strange because I’m the exact opposite.”

“And how about Maggie?”

“Maggie is really cool! Like, she’s great. She’s super nice, and interesting. She’s going to school to be a 3D artist, but she paints and draws really well already. She’s getting her motorcycle license along with Ian, but she looks way better on a bike then him. I mean, Ian’s put together enough, but Maggie has style. She gets along perfectly with the three of us, and she’s really into the game. Thomas and her team up a lot, and well, me too with them, well like it’s a group game, but if Sophie or Emmie couldn’t make it; sucks but oh well, but I don’t think Ian would run a game without Maggie. She’s that big of a part of it.”

“Well, I’m glad she fit’s in so well. I’m a bit surprised Ian and Maggie get along that well together. Do you…think they’re anything going on between them romantically?”

Jack thought for a moment, then laughed. “Ian doesn’t fall in love. He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Remember when Lara had a crush on him in middle school? he broke here heart. Like, they’re friends and have similar taste in music and clothing and stuff, but that’s all. Neither Ian or I have had a girlfriend before, and we would tell each other if we were interested in someone. I mean I- yeah, yeah, we’d tell each other.”

“Right,” his father said. “Just wondering. And hey, how is Tomas’s girlfriend doing?”

“She’s well! The two of them…”

…

In time Jack’s success in the kitchen grew. He learned recipe after recipe, most being keepers, and spent every Sunday morning making food for his friends. Occasionally Tomas would come over on a Wednesday, and Jack would make the two of them pizzas. When his father caught Jack making food for Tomas on days throughout the week, he joked that Tomas soon wouldn’t be able to feed himself.

“Oh, well yeah he can feed himself fine,” said Jack “I just want to do something for him. He’s spending time tutoring me in math, and he’s always there when I need an ear, and he invites me places. I’m just being nice to him back.”

“And I guess it’s easy to make him meals when he’s a bottomless pit,” his father said. “Hey, how come you never make me food?”

“Oh, I totally will if you want!” but Jack’s father was already waving his offer away.

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Jack. I kind of miss making you breakfast though. You fill up the kitchen all morning and then you run out of here.”

“And I miss your pancakes, but you don’t make breakfast, Dad, by the time you get cooking you make lunch!”

They laughed and went about their business. After that day the fridge was more often filled with leftovers. Jack said his father was welcome to it, and sometimes when his father mentioned a meal in passing, he’d soon find it a day or two later in a container ready to be microwaved.

Now many more weeks went by, and Jack’s father started paying attention to which of Jack’s friends came over. He saw Tomas often and Ian seldom, but never once one of the sisters. Whenever Jack’s father asked his son about why he hadn’t met them, yet he got an evasive reply. Evidently Jack didn’t invite them over like he did his childhood friends because he was too shy, but his father was glad whenever Jack was invited to hang with them throughout the week. Occasionally they’d do a game, or a movie, or eat at a restaurant. It was after one such meal that Jack came home very excited.

“I’ve got a new idea,” he said. “Ian, Sophie and I went out to eat dumplings today, but Maggie couldn’t come with us even though she really wanted to. Apparently, she loves dumplings even more then pretzels, and been wanting to go to this new fancy place for a while now; so I’m going to make her some for Sunday.”

“Fancy gluten free dumplings?”

“Yeah! I’ve never made dumplings before, but they can’t be that hard.”

…

Gluten free foods did not stretch, flatten, or bend well. Normally for breads and pizza crusts this din’t matter since they simply were the size they were and then baked, but it made shaping dumplings nearly impossible.

Jack hadn’t the right ingredients, and he had tried to make do without success. He’d gone out and bought new flour, and gum that’d supposedly solve the problem, and still he struggled to shape them without the dumplings breaking and falling apart. After hours he had little to show. Jack hit the counter in frustration.

“Just try again next week,” his father advised. “You don’t have to get this right today.”

“Yes I do,” Jack moaned. “I already told Ian I’d make dinner. Dumplings for Maggie, since she really wanted some. I want to make it a surprise! but it’s. Just. Not. Working!”

He hit the dough after every word, and his father walked away and let him be. Still, while it took longer than expected and maybe some tears, eventually Jack made a small batch and headed off to their weekly game. Later that night Jack’s father would listen to his son return home, and right away he knew something wasn’t right.

His father found Jack sitting at the table, eating a PB&J he had made. Jack’s comfort food.

“How’s it going?” he asked. “How was your game?”

“The game was fine,” Jack said. “We beat this boss we’d been fighting for a while, so that was cool.”

“Well, that’s good. Did your friends like the dumplings?”

“Oh, yeah well, they didn’t get to try them.”

“What? Didn’t you make enough?”

“I didn’t make a whole lot,” Jack said, sounding rather dejected.

“They mostly fell apart, but I made a few for everybody. When I got there, I showed Ian and he didn’t think we’d have enough either, so he asked me to go get some pizza just in case.”

“And did you?”

“Well, yeah. I turned right around and drove to the store, bought a normal and a gluten-free. Then went back, and-”

Jack’s father waited for his son to continue.

“I guess as soon as I left Ian tripped and spilt all the dumplings onto the carpet.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah, and like, with all the cat hair…and they probably busted open and couldn’t be saved...”

“Out of all the times…”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Just…Ian said he’d make it up to me and invited me to go back to that dumpling place on Tuesday. Just…”

“Don’t you have night class on Tuesday?”

“Yeah, and so does Tomas, and Sophie and Emmie have a show to go see, so they’re all busy. Everyone’s busy Tuesday except him and Maggie.”

“Well why don’t you all go on another night?” his father asked.

“I…I don’t know. Ian said he’s could only do it on Tuesday. He invited us all at the same time…Just, he knows when I’m free…and why can’t we go next week when he’s not busy? Why’s he even going without me?”

“Well why didn’t you ask him?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t feeling good when it happened. I worked so hard on those dumplings, and Ian dropped them…”

…

The week went by and next Sunday arrived. Jack made pizzas for his friends and his father saw him off like normal.

What wasn’t normal was when Jack came home early.

“It’s not even dinner time yet, why are you home? Forgot something?”

“No,” Jack said. “I’m just not feeling very good. I’m going to go lay down.”

“Sure,” his father said hesitating when he saw his son’s face. “Did you…catch the crud from one of your friends? How are they?”

“Everyone’s fine. Tomas, Sophie, Emmie.., and Ian and his new girlfriend are all fine.”

“Girlfriend? Who, Maggie?”

Jack nodded as he shuffled past his father.

“I guess their dinner together went really well the other night…”

His father winced and watched his son turn the corner. He shook his head and walked into the kitchen. Jack had left dishes in the sink, so his father cleaned them, and when they were finished, he looked in the fridge. There was plenty of leftovers to choose from. His father shut the door. He walked to his son’s room, made to knock, then walked away. He looked in the fridge again, nodded to himself, then drove to the store.

He returned, and after half an hour in the kitchen, knocked on his son’s door.

“Come eat dinner with me.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I’m not really hungry.”

“Sure you’re not,” his father said wrapping an arm around Jack and leading him into the kitchen in a near hug. “But I had the inkling to make pancakes for dinner, and if anything is going to be okay for your stomach, it’s pancakes.”

“Dad…”

“Look, see what I got here? Pure Canadian maple syrup. It’s in a glass jar, that’s how you know it’s the good stuff. I made just enough for the two of us, so you sit down there, and I’ll serve you up first. You want one big one or four little ones?”

“A big one,” Jack said falling into his chair. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, really, I love your cooking, Dad.”

“I love your cooking too, son.”