Chapter 15: The First Real Meal
Chapter 15: The First Real Meal
Our first night in the lake house, we didn't have any furniture delivered yet. The moving boxes were stacked haphazardly in the corners, and we only had a couple of inflatable air mattresses set up in the master bedroom, covered in warm blankets.
But the kitchen, bright and open with butcher-block counters, was fully stocked with groceries.
I tied an apron around my waist and handed a smaller, matching one to Maya. Tonight, we weren't eating cold instant noodles out of cracked plastic on a dirty floor. We were cooking together, reclaiming the kitchen as a place of warmth.
"Alright, chef," I said, handing her a large wooden spoon. "We are making the ultimate, top-secret, double-cheese homemade macaroni. I need you to stir the pasta so it doesn't stick, while I shred the cheddar and gouda."
Maya giggled, pulling a wooden stool up to the stove. It was the best sound in the entire world, a sound I hadn't realized how much I missed until it returned.
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For the next hour, the kitchen was filled with laughter, the rich smell of melting cheese and butter, and the warmth of a real family. When the food was finally ready, bubbling and golden brown, we didn't eat at a formal, stifling dining table. We sat cross-legged on the floor of the empty living room, eating out of massive ceramic bowls, watching an animated movie on my laptop.
Maya ate until she couldn't take another bite, a massive, satisfied smile on her face, cheese smudged on her chin. The healing had finally begun.
