Monster Chef

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “You. I love you, ma petite. You are very special to me and I will spend my life protecting you from any harm in the world.”

  “You will?”

  “Why of course.”

  “That’s good, Pierre. Because even though you talk funny, I love you too.” And I know her words are real, they come from her heart. She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek.

  “You are going to be in my life for a very long time.”

  Silence closes around us, and Emma hugs me tighter.

  The quiet is broken by a very cheeky little girl. “I think you love Mummy too.”

  “And why do you say that?” I tangle my fingers in her long hair and slowly draw them through.

  “Because if you love me, then that means you must love Mummy too.”

  I smile as I kiss her hair. “You are a very smart little girl.”

  “I’m so smart I can spell ‘shopping’. Do you want me to spell it for you?”

  “Of course I would love to hear you spell such a difficult word.”

  She hops off my knee and stands in front of me, but gives me her teddy.

  “Shopping. S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G, shopping!” she says with the hugest smile on her face.

  “Very good, you spelled ‘shopping’ perfectly.”

  “I can also spell ‘catch’, can I spell that for you, too?”

  “Oui.” I sit back in the uncomfortable hospital chair and cross my leg over my knee.

  “Catch, C-A-T-C-H. That word’s tricky ‘cause of the ‘TCH’ sound, but we learneded that at school.”

  “Learned,” I correct her.

  “Oh, yeah, learned. I’m hungry. Do you have anything to eat?”

  “I did not bring food. We will wait a little longer for your mummy to come back and then I will take both of my beautiful women out for lunch.”

  “I’m a girl, not a woman.” She puts a hand to her hip, tilts her head and her eyes pop open.

  “I am very sorry for that mistake. My gorgeous woman and my cute little girl.”

  “I don’t like being cute. Can you call me something else?”

  “What would you like me to call you?”

  “Um.” She taps a finger to her lips as she stares past me and scrunches her mouth. “I know. You can say I’m your pretty ma petite. I like that.”

  “In French, we say ma belle petite. It means my pretty petite. Well then, we’ll wait for mummy to come out and I’ll take my gorgeous woman, and ma belle petite out for something to eat.”

  “Yay!” Emma exclaims in excitement. But as quickly as the spark came to her, it extinguished even faster. “I hope Nanna is okay.” Her face drops and she seeks comfort from me again by climbing up on my lap and resting her head against my chest.

  All I can do is hold her, and kiss her when the tears start again.

  I watch the seconds hand tick on the large, sterile, white clock hanging over the triage desk. It appears the hands are not moving. There’s the chatter of people coming and going, the television is turned on to a channel showing children’s shows. Emma sits on my lap, burrows herself into me and watches the television as her grip on Teddy does not loosen.

  One show finishes.

  Another show starts.

  The hands on the clock have only marginally moved.

  An uneasy feeling is growing inside me. Something is not quite right. A dread is bubbling away while the tense air crackles as the sounds are all drowned out. I’ve been here before. Bad news is coming.

  “Pierre,” I hear Holly calling me as she sits beside me and cries.

  “What has happened?”

  She shakes her head and her tears continue to tumble down her sorrowful, hurt face.

  “Mummy?” Emma says, her voice small, her own salt water about to erupt.

  “Nanna died, Peanut.”

  THIRTY

  Holly

  Pierre held both Emma and me until we had no more tears left to cry. He had Emma on one knee and me on the other, as we both wept and let it all out.

  Now we’re back at his house and sitting, emotionless, in his kitchen as he prepares something for us all to eat. Emma’s watching some kid’s show on TV and I’m sipping a coffee he made for me.

  “Can I help you with anything?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

  “You just sit there and relax.”

  “I’m going to have to get my car from the hospital parking lot,” I say as I swallow a mouthful of the coffee. I can’t actually taste it, not because it’s terrible, but because my brain isn’t registering it.

  “I will get it. I need to duck out to the store after dinner, so I will take a taxi there and pick it up.”

  I can feel the tears begin to well in my eyes again. “I’m sorry Mrs. Walker, there was nothing more we could do for her,” the doctor said as she put a gentle hand to my shoulder.

  “I’ll help you with whatever you need,” Pierre whispers as he puts his knife down, wipes his hands and rounds the island counter to hug me. “Anything you or Emma need, I will do.” His arms embrace me, and I lay my head on his firm chest. He kisses my hair, and I tuck further into his warmth.

  “I’m… I’m… not sure – I…” The tears just start again and I can’t help them.

  “Let it all out,” he says softly but draws me in closer.

  “I’m just not sure I can do it all again.”

  “Unfortunately you have to, but you will not be on your own.”

  I nod and close my eyes.

  “Mummy I’m hungry,” Emma says as she walks in on us cuddling. Pierre goes to move away, but I don’t let him go, instead I open my stance and beckon for Emma to join us. With sleepy, red eyes, she drags her feet and comes to us. “I’m tired, too.” Pierre hugs us both, and this moment feels right. Although the circumstances are horrible, I know we’re perfect together. All three of us.

  “After dinner I need to go the store, you can both take my bed and have a rest if you like.”

  “That’ll be nice. Thank you, Pierre.”

  “My pleasure,” he says and bobs down to kiss us both before letting go to continue with dinner.

  “What are you making for dinner, Pierre?” Emma asks as she tucks herself under my arm, cuddling into my side.

  “I have a quiche in the oven, and I am chopping the salad.”

  “I like quiche with lots and lots of bacon.”

  “But of course. There is no other way to enjoy it.” His brows furrow together as he chops a cucumber and tosses it into the salad bowl.

  “But I don’t like eggs.” Emma moves away from me and leans an elbow on the island counter.

  “Well, ma belle petite, that is very unusual because quiche is made from eggs.” He stops chopping and looks at her.

  “It is?” she asks. She’s rubbing her eyes, telling me she’s really tired.

  “Oui, it is. Just like French toast, which we will make tomorrow morning for breakfast.” As he finishes talking, the timer for the oven sounds and he goes to check the quiche. “Emma, can you mix the salad please?”

  She leaves my side and goes to the cutlery drawer. “Oh,” she says, closing the drawer before she gets anything out. Curiously I watch what she does. Pierre’s taking the quiche out of the oven and Emma goes to the sink to wash her hands. He looks over his shoulder and smiles, then checks dinner.

  “How does it taste?” he asks as she takes a piece of tomato from the bowl.

  “It tastes really good.”

  “Good, would you please get three plates and knives and forks?”

  “Sure.” She goes to his cupboard and gets three plates, then to the cutlery drawer to get utensils.

  Pierre cuts the quiche, and dishes it up on the three plates then adds salad. We each take our plates into the dining room, Pierre and Emma sit beside each other and I sit opposite them.

  Emma starts eating and looks at Pierre. “You know, this tastes really good, even though it’s made out of eggs.”

  “Of cou
rse it tastes really good. I made it.”

  Emma giggles and Pierre chuckles.

  “I love you,” Emma blurts as she kisses Pierre on the cheek.

  Pierre’s eyes find mine, and I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. He leans over and kisses Emma, “I love you so much,” he says without taking his eyes off mine.

  “Excuse me,” I say as I stand and go outside to the backyard.

  “You stay and eat your dinner, I want to check on your mum, okay?” I hear Pierre say to Emma.

  “Okay,” she responds.

  “Are you alright?” Pierre asks as he comes to find me outside.

  “I’m an emotional wreck. Today’s been so overwhelming, I’m emotional and now Emma admits she loves you.” I look down, suddenly finding my feet more interesting than Pierre’s intense grey gaze.

  “It has been a trying day,” he says in his deep, velvety voice. “But you must understand, that little girl in there,” he pauses as I look up to find his features have softened, “that little girl has stolen my heart. She is amazing, and brave and simply extraordinary.”

  “I know.” I swallow the heavy and tasteless bile which has formed.

  “I love her, Holly.”

  With those words I crumble. “What if you leave us too?”

  “Impossible. Can’t you see?” He drags me to him, nuzzling into my neck as his hands smooth my hair.

  “See what?”

  “This is the rawest and purest form of love a man can give. It is the only way I can be with you and Emma. I am just a man, and I am laying my heart out for you to take and cherish or to turn and leave. The choice is yours, and only yours. But please, I need you like I need the sun and water.”

  “What are you saying, Pierre?” I look up into his steely eyes.

  “I am saying, I am not good at short term. I do not want a fling. I do not want you to walk out my front door and never return. I want you to stay with me because you are all I need and I want to be all you need too.”

  “I – .” I look down again, momentarily made speechless by his brash words.

  “Non, you cannot tell me you do not feel this.” He lifts my right hand and places it over his heart. “It only beats for you, and for Emma.”

  “Pierre.” My voice cracks as the emotional tears keep falling.

  “Please, stay with me. Let me take care of you. Let us be a family.” He kisses me softly on the lips.

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  He leans in to kiss my cheek, then peppers my skin with kisses from his warm, soft lips all the way to my ear. “Holly,” he whispers as he draws my earlobe into his mouth.

  “Yes.”

  “My heart is yours. I love you.”

  My head lolls forward and I rest my forehead on his shoulder. “Pierre.”

  “I did not tell you I love you so you can repeat it back to me. I needed you to know that I am here, not for a month, but a lifetime. When you are ready, you will tell me you love me too. Today has not gone to plan. It has not been a good day for you. But I cannot let you go one more day without knowing you have also stolen my heart.” Pierre steps back and runs his hands down my arms, then leans in and kisses me once more on the cheek before he turns and goes back inside, leaving me to my own thoughts.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Pierre

  “Angus, Holly and I won’t be in for at least the next week.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we won’t be in for at least a week,” I tell Angus over the phone.

  “And why not?” He sounds angry.

  “Her mother in law passed away and she needs to organise the funeral and take care of some personal matters.”

  “And why can’t you come into work?”

  “Because it’s none of your damned business.”

  “So help me, Pierre. I’ll fire you right now if you don’t give me a good enough reason.”

  I have just parked Holly’s car at the store and turn it off. “I tell you what, how about this as a good enough reason. I quit. Goodbye, Angus.” I hang up and put the phone in my pocket.

  I get out of the car, lock it and go in the direction of the shopping centre. I can feel my phone instantly vibrating against my leg, and when I take it out I see it’s Angus calling me back. I silence it and put it back in my pocket. I’m never going to let work get in the way of my family again. I’m not going to put it above the needs of my girls. As far as I am concerned, they come first.

  As I walk into the department store I go over my mental check list of everything I need for Holly and Emma. Taking a cart, I go to the kids section first. I’m not sure what size Emma is, but I get pyjamas, undies, socks, t-shirts and shorts that I think will fit her. I make a detour to the entertainment section and get every Disney DVD I think a seven-year-old girl would like, along with a portable DVD player, and an iPod. Next stop, toys. Again, I load the shopping cart with all types of things, and what she doesn’t like I’m happy to donate.

  There’s a lady looking at some dolls and she sees me putting a heap of things in the cart. “How many kids do you have?” she asks as she points at the almost overflowing cart.

  “Only one.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of things.” She smiles at me and goes back to looking at the packet she’s holding.

  “She is seven and I do not know what she likes.”

  The woman knits her eyebrows together and frowns at me. “Okay then.”

  “Sorry, that did not sound right. She is going to be my daughter one day, when I marry her mother.” Hmm, I best talk to Holly about marrying her. I’m not sure if she would like that, but that is where it is all heading in my mind.

  Again the woman looks at me as if I have grown two heads.

  “My stepdaughter,” I correct myself. But I do prefer her to be my daughter and not involve the word ‘step’.

  “Oh,” the woman says, smiles and exhales. “Most little girls like Barbie or Monster High dolls, they’re the popular choice with that age group. I have an eight-year-old daughter myself.”

  “Merci beaucoup.” I tip my chin down.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I rummage around the shopping cart and find I’ve picked up both of those brands along with some other toys about a snowman. I am satisfied with everything I have for Emma. Now, to shop for Holly.

  I go to the women’s section and again I guess her size by holding up several things and imagining they are on her. I buy her everything she may need, and even if she does not require it, then she can keep them for when she does.

  Next stop, toiletries. I put in toothbrushes, combs for their hair, hair ties, bath gel, shampoo and conditioner.

  As I stand back and tick off everything on my mental list, I am happy with my purchases. Once everything is paid for, I put the bags in the car and head back home.

  When I pull into my driveway, the automatic light goes on outside under the carport. I go to the trunk of the car and load all the shopping bags into my hands. When I get to the front door, Holly has it opened and is looking at me with incredulous surprise.

  “What is it?” I ask her as I give her a kiss on the lips and move past her.

  “What have you got?” she asks me, smiling as she eyes the bags.

  “Supplies.”

  “Who have you bought for? An army?” She locks the front door and follows me into the family room.

  “It is just some things I think you and Emma may need.”

  Holly sits beside me and begins to rustle through the bags. “A portable DVD player?” She keeps searching. “An entire library of children’s movies?” She looks at me, lifting half the DVDs from one of the bags. “Toys?” She frowns, looking upset.

  “They are all for Emma’s room. I want her to be comfortable when she is here and to have everything she needs.”

  Holly puts everything on the floor and leans her elbows on her knees, cupping her face in her hands. “Pierre, what have you done?”

  “I am providin
g for my family.” She abruptly stands and moves away from me going toward the back yard. “Where is Emma?” I ask as I stand to follow her.

  “She’s in bed. She had a shower while you were gone and I put her to bed.” Holly goes quiet, and her hands knot together as she stands on the back veranda looking out at the dark night.

  “Are you alright?”

  “No, I’m not. You can’t do that.” She points inside toward the family room, indicating all the bags I bought.

  “Why not?”

  “We’re not your responsibility.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I’ve lost my best friend and my mother-in-law today. You’ve also declared your love for me and Emma, and now it’s full steam ahead with you. You’ve not talked to me at all. Instead you went to get my car, came back two hours later with all of that.” She pauses and points back inside, “And you’ve not said anything to me. Next you’ll be presenting me with a ring and demanding I marry you.”

  “I have not bought a ring, but yes, that will happen too.” I lean against the outdoor table, because right now I doubt she wants my arms around her.

  Holly takes a deep breath and rakes her hand over her face then through her hair. “This is too much, way too quick.”

  “Oh I see,” I begin as I drag a chair out and sit in it. “You think this is not normal.” I gesture between her and me. “You are one of those people who do what is expected of them. Society says we have not known each other long enough, so of course I must be crazy to have fallen in love with you this soon. Society says we must spend time and court one another, discover what the other likes first.”

  Holly averts her eyes as her shoulders drop.

  “You must follow a ‘normal’ regime of taking time and taking it slow. Is that right, Holly?”

  “Well, this isn’t normal.”

  “Normal is subjective. What is normal for one is not always normal for another. Judgement has no place here.”

  “But c’mon. You don’t think this is way too fast?”

  “I tell you what I think. I think life has shown me if I love something, I should never hold back. I should throw myself into it and hope you feel the same way. I will protect what I love, nurture you and respect you, because tomorrow I may wake up and find I never had you. We have one opportunity to cherish what we love, Holly. To hold onto it and savour every moment with it. And you and Emma are what I love, with my entire soul, with my life. I do not want to let you go. I want to fall into the oblivion of your love and never return from it. I want you, Holly, and I want to be a father to the most amazing little girl I will ever be lucky enough to know.”