Chapter 33: The Meal
Orely
"And anyway, you can read the text when you come back."
"Don't delete it!" she orders me, heading for the kitchen.
I quickly wrote an SMS course as brief as the two sentences he wrote on the card.
\[Thanks for the flowers. I'm glad that you enjoyed the moment.\]
Clear and straightforward, yet respectful. And there comes my mother! I knew it would not satisfy her, and if I had sent him her idea, I should have sent a message with no head or tail.
I put my phone on the table and my mother immediately picks it up, as soon as she returns, to check my note.
"What, that is it? I should have checked before you sent this. It is lame. You should have put more feeling, like "I was surprised and touched by this beautiful bouquet of flowers outside my door" or "I thank you for the beautiful flowers and hope they stay beautiful for a long time."
"Do you think it is a romance novel or something? He would think I was crazy if I sent him something like this. It is not my style at all.
Suddenly the notification of a new message rang out, and my mother, who was still holding my phone, rushed to read it, preventing me from retrieving it. She gives me a broad smile before handing it back.
\[Do you like them? I had trouble choosing. I hope you don't find the bouquet too exaggerated as there are all sorts of varieties in your garden\]mm
Oh, he is quick. I reply immediately, this time letting my mother read over my shoulders.
\[A little bit imposing but very beautiful. I see before the day is over, you are pretty free\]
His response was not long in coming.
\[Yes, since my appointment was cancelled, I now have some extra time to dedicate to sending messages\]
My mom is stamping her feet with enthusiasm next to me while I reply.
\[In my case, I am about to make dinner.\]
As the exchange continues, a slight smile appears on my face. No matter how much I pretended not to want to contact him, this little moment makes me very happy.
\[And what are you going to cook?\]
\[ Ah, something simple but nice. On the menu, express chicken enchiladas\]
\[Hmm, sounds tempting. Too bad I won't be able to come and taste it, work forces me to. \]
With nothing to add, I put my phone on the table and sit on the sofa for a while before going to the kitchen.
"You two seem to be getting on well.” she begins.
“That is bullshit, there is nothing special in these text messages, just small talk.”
"And you seriously think I am going to swallow this, that a director does not have enough things to do other than to send texts to someone he's not interested in."
How do I tell her we are already having an affair? I don't want to rush things. So I am still keeping it a secret. Besides, we are not together.
"Maybe he is just being polite."
"Arr, you are getting on my nerves! You can't be that stubborn," she complains, putting her hands on her hips.
"Anyway, it is already nearly half past six and I am going to go and make dinner. So either you come and help me or you leave me alone."
"Okay, but it is not over, Orely. I am warning you!" she says sternly, and I sigh.
"Let's go, the meal won't make itself. Even if it is a quick meal, the sooner we get started the better," I declare, rising from the sofa.
My mother preheats the oven to two hundred degrees after placing the rack in the middle.
While she was off in the kitchen getting the ingredients out of the shopping bag earlier, she made sure to roast the chicken BBQ-style, a perfect shortcut for this recipe. Now, she debones the chicken, shreds the meat, and places it in a large bowl. I add freshly chopped cilantro and salsa to it. I mix everything together so that the chicken is well coated.
Meanwhile, Mom spreads the chicken filling in the center of the tortillas, then rolls them into tubes.
Then I place the rolled tortillas side by side in a rectangular baking dish, which I top with the remaining salsa and my mother sprinkles with cheese. I place it in the oven and let it bake for ten to fifteen minutes.
Finally, I end up cooking under the broiler for one or two minutes, until the cheese is golden brown. And to finish, I garnish the enchiladas with the remaining cilantro and it's ready. The kitchen is filled with the aromas of the cooked dish. The table is already set, and with a warm smile, she heads to the refrigerator to get the bottle of orange juice.
For my part, I place the main course on the table, a masterpiece of flavors, and the colors of the dish blend harmoniously with the carefully ironed tablecloth. She returns, the orange juice in hand, and places it delicately in the center of the table, adding a touch of conviviality.
Finally we are at the table and I am starving.
"It is delicious, you have outdone yourself!" compliments my mother, pouring orange juice into her glass.
"Ah, but you also helped make this dish! It is an easy recipe that works every time."
"I am going to take one more roll!" she tells me and I serve it on her plate.
In the dining room, lit by the soft glow of the sconces on the wall and between bites of my dish, we exchange friendly banter, awakening our taste buds. Laughter mingles with the clatter of cutlery, and story after story evokes childhood memories.
By leaving the window open, the scent of fresh garden herbs and food spreads through the air, creating a comforting atmosphere. In the pocket of my overalls, I feel my phone vibrate. It's Santiago, wishing me bon appétit in a playful way that I discreetly smile at.
\[Enjoy your meal, my gorgeous, and don't forget to save me a little!\]