I was still reeling a little from telling Julie no. I was reeling and trying to focus in on working things out with Z.
We were going over the trash, which was composed mainly of the whipped lardo and seaweed butter he served with the bread. It depended on the day of the week whether that rich, gooey lardo and the salty butter were spooned up or left behind. Saturdays, people drowned their fresh farm bread in both types of fat. But Sundays, they seemed to leave the lardo behind. Chef Z wasn’t particularly interested—not in the bread, and not really in what I had to say.
Before I got a word out, he raised his hands, stopping me. “I already know what you’re going to say,” he said.
“You do?”
He motioned across the kitchen. “Douglas told me about your little fake TV show,” he said. “When he was trying to get me to replace you with his nephew on trash.”
“He did?”
Chef Z shrugged. “Headline is, I couldn’t care less. Cooking and television are two separate things. And one of them is idiotic.”
“The show was actually just on the internet. Though when it came out that I couldn’t cook, the Food Network did cancel my contract. I was going to host for them.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Think I care.”
He shook his head, not interested in my part of this conversation, only in his.
“There is no way to make coq au vin in under thirty minutes and also to make it well. That’s why you pay me to make it. Because you should not.”
I smiled at him, feeling buoyed. I wanted to talk to Z about letting me work in food prep. I’d proven to have a good palate and I wanted to learn. I knew it was a long shot, but I couldn’t help but think: Maybe this was where this roundabout road had taken me. I’d cook the kinds of food that I had learned to love at the restaurant—fresh, specific, thoughtful. And I wouldn’t do it as a way to get a new show, a new shot at stardom, but as an end to itself. To actually be a great cook.
Putting the ingredients up front. Take two.
Chef Z was spooning the lardo into a plastic container. “Is there a reason you’re staring at me or is this just the naturally awkward way you make people uncomfortable?” he said.
“I’m just happy to hear that you weren’t irked by what happened.” I paused. “I should say, by what I did.”
I was learning to do it. Take responsibility.
“Fine,” he said. Then he motioned toward the lardo. “Moving on.”
“I was hoping to talk with you about pursuing cooking opportunities here at the restaurant,” I said. “Under your tutelage.”
“I don’t like that word,” he said. “Tutelage. Please don’t use it again.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“And, also, no.”
53
So when I said put the ingredients on top, I didn’t mean you should throw the baby out with the fucking bathwater.”
Rain and I were sitting on the steps outside the front door, my belly starting to stick out.
“I did that when I was twenty-six, and it didn’t work out.”
“But this new show sounds like it would have been different.”
I thought of what would be required. Social media and live television and Instagram updates sweeping me up, imploring me to let people into my world, into my experience, before I even knew what that experience was adding up to. Maybe I had been burned so badly I was officially a Luddite. I was certainly getting emotional during this pregnancy. But I now understood something about when I wanted to share myself. And why.
My sister shook her head, like I was crazy, though I could see she was also a little impressed.
“I guess it’s a good thing you have job security,” she said sarcastically.
I laughed. “I do have a proposition for you,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a way for Sammy to go to that school.”
“Maybe we should go back to you waiting outside until we fall asleep,” she said.
I looked at her. “I almost took the show, just so I could get you guys set up in a nice apartment, make it so you didn’t have to work. But I figured you wouldn’t go for that anyway.”
“You figured right.”
“The school has a special weekend program. And I have some money from the apartment. Money I could stretch. I can’t stay in Montauk anyway. What if I got a place in Harlem? Near the school? Sammy could stay with me on the weekends. That’s one night away from you a week. And she’d get to do a bunch of nerdy kid things. It’s just one night, but if it works out, we could revisit the full-time thing.”
“No fucking way.”
“Okay, we won’t revisit. But the weekend thing, it’d be good for her. And maybe for you too.”
She looked at me like she might yell. And like she might say yes. It could go either way. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“You will? Really?”
“Yes.”
It was a nice moment. No one reaching in to hug each other, no one offering anything definitive. But nice. At least it was until two headlights interrupted us. A guy drove down the driveway. And then got out of his car.
Danny. My heart skipped a beat, even at the sight of him. His hands were in his jeans pockets, his uneven button-down, soft against his skin. He looked up and offered a small smile.
“Oh, brother,” Rain said, shaking her head.
I wrapped my sweater around my small belly as he walked over to us. And I could feel it, my sister was steeling herself.
“Hey,” Danny said.
“Hi,” I said.
Rain shot him a look.
Danny nodded at her. “It’s nice to see you, Rain,” he said.
She pointed right in his face. “You did a shitty thing, Danny,” she said. “No, you did two shitty things, because now I’m in a position of having to stick up for my sister, and you know how much that pisses me off. You’re not invited into the house.”
“I’ll stay out here,” he said.
She stood up and looked at me.
“He’s not going in the house,” she said.
“I hear you.”
She turned back to Danny. “And she’s picking up my kid in fifteen minutes, so don’t make her late,” she said.
“I’ve got it,” Danny said.
She gave him a last look.
Then she disappeared inside, and we were alone. He smiled, taking me in, not saying anything.
“You look good. Can I say that?”
I nodded. “I’m doing well.”
Danny smiled—a real smile—like he could see it. Like that was enough for him. Fourteen years. He knew I was telling the truth.
Then he took in the property. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here. It looks different.”
I motioned toward the main house. “There used to be a lot more room.”
He laughed. “Yeah, well. I remember the guesthouse being pretty cozy,” he said.
I thought about it too. The first time I had brought him home with me from college, we’d stayed there. My father had liked Danny, so we ended up spending a little bit of time with him. Danny brought out the best of my father. It was almost enough to make me think it could be different between us. Danny had always had that power—how had I given it away?—the power to make anything feel possible.
He motioned toward the step where I sat. “May I?”