Help Our Heroes: A Military Charity Anthology

by T. L. Wainwright

  “Plating the risotto.” I walk to the pass and spoon the risotto into a round white plate, letting it ooze over the base before piling it up. A few shavings of Parmesan and it’s ready to go. I smile as I look at the cleanness of the dish. This is what I want, to create food that people will enjoy.

  “We need two cheese soufflés and a crab waffle for table six.”

  I turn to see Jer standing behind me with the next docket in his hand. He smiles as the kitchen goes to work preparing the ordered dishes. “How is everything?” He puts the docket in the queue so he can see what else is needing to go out.

  “Going well. No complaints which is always a good thing, don’t think they even noticed it wasn’t a proper chef that cooked their meals.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice because it's not Jer’s fault that I chose the wrong path in life.

  “Say the word, little brother, and I will have you in here training. You want to be a fully qualified chef and I will make it happen. We can run this place together.”

  It isn't the first time that Jer has told me that he will help me achieve everything I want, and I have enough money saved to take some time and do the training, but part of me feels like I'm stealing his dream from him. He was the one who always wanted to work with food and maybe he would hate it if I followed in his footsteps. “I know. How was the bank?”

  His eyes lose their happiness a little but the smile stays on his lips as he tries to convince me that he's okay. “Went well, just have to wait now.”

  “Wait on what?”

  “Nothing. Now get home and relax. You do far too much these days.”

  I let him change the subject, removing my apron and putting it in the dirty washing basket. “We will be talking about this, Jer, don’t think we won't.”

  I hear his laughter as I leave the kitchen area. He knows that I won't risk the orders getting behind by pestering him about it now, but I will talk to him soon, and I won't give up until I know what’s going on. When I get to the staff room I head straight to my locker and grab my bag out of it. Checking the time I see that it's just after eight, so text Ralph to ask him if he's eaten yet. I get a response before I manage to change my shoes, telling me that he hasn’t thought about dinner yet, so I grab some supplies on the way past the fridge. Jer shouts something about it being theft but I just give him the finger. Since I don’t get paid for helping him out I'm taking whatever the hell I want.

  “Good night, little brother.”

  I smile as I leave through the back door and head towards my car.

  * * * *

  I'm draining the pasta when Ralph appears in the doorway behind me. He was asleep on the couch when I arrived home which was a bit of a surprise since he'd texted me twenty minutes earlier. I left him to rest though. He's been through so much since he arrived home and he already looked ready to drop at that point. My imagination tells me that they don’t get the rest they need when on duty, but I don’t know. They might get twelve hours sleep a night for all I know and live in five-star accommodation.

  Adding the pasta to the mushroom sauce, I mix it until it's all combined and heap bowls high with the finished meal. Just as I put the pan in the sink I hear Ralph walking fully into the kitchen behind me. I turn and see him stretching his arms above his head while he yawns. The move pulls his t-shirt up and away from the waistband of his jogging bottoms, leaving a bare patch of skin on show. My eyes drop to that area and I can't look away. His skin is slightly tanned, showing a tan line just under his waistband, and it looks smooth and soft. There’s no hair that I see apart from the start of the perfect happy trail. It's dark and alluring, and I want to tug those joggers down to see how thick it is.

  Ralph coughing makes my eyes dart back up to his face. I try to look at him like I wasn’t just staring at his cock area, but from the heat building in my cheeks, I know that I'm failing. To try and distract him from what I was just doing, I turn and grab his plate of food.

  “Hungry?” I take the plates to the small table that sits at the edge of my kitchen. Once I put it down I take a few minutes to gather cutlery and drinks for us both, and when I return to the table Ralph is already sitting there waiting on me.

  “All you seem to do is feed me.” He digs into the pasta like he doesn’t have a problem with me making him food.

  “I love to cook, and it's nice to have someone to cook for. It's never as satisfying when I have to praise myself.”

  Ralph smiles around the fork and chews the mouthful before speaking. “Well let me be the one that praises you. This is fantastic, in fact, everything you’ve made me has been better than anything I've eaten. You're a fantastic chef.”

  “Cook.” It’s become second nature to me to correct people when they call me a chef because I don’t have the right to claim that title.

  “You said that earlier and I don’t understand the difference.”

  “Cooks tend to be self-trained, you know like people who own cafes and food carts. Chefs are trained and have the official qualifications.” I eat while Ralph processes that information. I know a lot of people don’t see the difference but I refuse to let people call me that when it took my brother years of training and late nights to earn the title.

  “But you want to be a chef?”

  My heart races a little when I think about following that particular dream. I've spent so long thinking about it now that it seems so hard to do. I've left it too late to start chasing it. “I would love nothing more, but it's not meant to be. I'm too old to be changing careers, and after spending all those years in university, it seems like a waste to go back to training for something else.”

  Ralph puts his fork down and gives me his full focus, which makes me feel a little under the spotlight. “It's not a waste if it’s something that you care about. I always knew that I wanted to join the army, even as a young boy I would watch the soldiers and want to be them. You should do what holds that passion for you. What are you doing now?”

  I put my own fork down, my appetite disappearing under Ralph's intense stare. “I'm a graphic designer with Red Door Custom Designs. I help with the website and merchandise design.”

  “And it makes you happy?”

  I take a moment to think about his question. People have asked me that before, Jer, my uncle, and my mum, but I always just give them the standard answer. Yes, I'm happy, no I don’t think I'm wasting my life, no I don’t want to rock the boat by changing things. This time I think about my answer. “Yes, seeing that finished product makes me feel like I've achieved something.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Fuck you, Ralph.” I get up from the table, grabbing both of the half-empty plates and storming off to the sink. Who the fuck does he think he is? He's known me for like two days, and even in that time we have barely spoken, so it's not like he knows me. I'm basically his landlord just now, not that he's paying me. God, he needs to mind his own business. I'm slamming the plates around in the sink when I feel him standing close behind me.

  “I'm sorry. It's not any of my business what you do. You have been kind enough to open up your house when you know nothing about me. It just seems to me that food is a passion, I just wondered why you weren’t following your passion.” He sounds so sad that I turn around to face him, my anger melting away as he speaks.

  “It's okay. It's just my parents did without most of their life so I could go to university, I don’t want to throw that back in their faces. If I give it all up, then it's like I don’t care what they went through.” I shouldn’t be putting all this on Ralph, only a minute ago I was telling myself that he was a stranger, but maybe that’s why he's easy to talk to. He has nothing invested in the outcome of my decisions.

  “I don’t think they would be upset if you were following your dream. You don’t want to be unemployed, just change the way you make your money. Does your brother know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  Why is he pushing me for all these answer
s? And why does it feel so good to finally talk about all this? “He says he supports me and will train me so we can run the café together.” Ralph stays quiet and I eventually look up, wondering why he hasn’t said anything. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks annoyed, like he can’t understand what my problem is. Going by the look on his face he's about to tell me.

  Chapter Ten

  Ralph

  I have no idea what to say to Aiden. He's acting as though he wants to follow a life of crime and thinks his parents will be upset. He isn’t telling the world that he's giving up his degree to become some hippy in a commune, he wants to retrain in a field that makes him happy. I see his face when he talks about cooking, and I've tasted his food, the guy has a talent that shouldn’t be ignored.

  As I stare at him, wanting to say so much, I wonder why it's bothering me so much that he isn’t following his dream. He isn’t a friend or a member of my family, so it doesn’t change anything in my life if he doesn’t become a chef. So why does this bother me? Maybe it’s just that I can see the way his eyes light up when he talks about cooking, the obvious joy he feels for food. I don’t want to see him miss out on being happy for some silly reason, even if the outcome doesn’t affect me in any way.

  “Why are you glaring at me?”

  I wasn’t aware that I was glaring, but apparently I can't hide my emotions from Aiden. “Sorry. It's just … I don’t get why you won't take your brother up on his offer.”

  Aiden rolls his eyes as he walks to the fridge and opens the door. He takes two bottles of beers from the shelf and hands me one after removing the top on the opener on the side of the fridge. I take it from him and enjoy a long drink, sighing as I have my first beer in months. It really is the simple pleasures that I miss.

  “Why aren’t you more upset about the William thing?”

  I blink mutely at the sudden subject change. It came so out of left field that it's thrown me.

  “If you're allowed to get personal then so am I. You were with him for two years and he was fucking someone else, that’s got to hurt a little?”

  “And as you said to me … fuck you.” I slam my beer down on the worktop and turn, planning on escaping before I lose my shit with him. I don’t get a foot outside the door before my arm is grabbed and I'm pulled to a stop.

  “I'm sorry.”

  I don’t turn to look at Aiden, too angry to look at him. He may have been kind enough to give me a bed for the night but he doesn’t get to invade my privacy like that. I sigh when I realise that I'm angry at him for doing the same thing I just did. His life is his business and I shouldn’t be asking him such personal questions. “No, I'm sorry. How about we make a pact to leave these subjects alone?”

  “Sounds like a plan. Want to finish that beer?”

  I laugh as I walk back into the kitchen, grabbing my beer from the worktop as I follow Aiden to the table again.

  * * * *

  I park my borrowed car outside Handy’s house on base. Aiden was working all day from the little home office he has set up in his garage, so he said I could take his car to do a few errands. I took the chance to come into the housing office, thinking that maybe I could convince them to get me a room quicker if I was face to face with them. What became clear very quickly is that it doesn’t matter if you call or go in person, if they don’t want to give you a room they won't. So I'm still homeless, I just have a pissed off woman dealing with my request now.

  “Are you coming in, shithead?”

  I hear Handy shouting from his front door before he turns and walks back into his house, leaving the door wide open for me. I smile before getting out and locking up the car. I take the steps two at a time, eager to get inside to see Handy. He's standing in the hall when I close the door behind me, and I don’t say anything before I pull him into a bone-crushing hug. He hugs me back, his arms wrapped tightly around me. Handy, or as his mother knows him Charles, is probably the best friend I've ever had. We met about ten years ago in a bar fight and we have been solid friends ever since.

  “It’s so fucking good to see you.” I mean the words so badly. I miss a lot of things when I'm gone and Handy is right up there on the top of the list.

  “Same, brother. Come on, let's get a drink.” I should tell him no because I have to drive home, but one won't do any harm. As long as it's just one beer and I don’t drive straight away, then I will accept his offer.

  I head into the living room as Handy goes to the kitchen to get us a beer. I collapse on the couch, feeling relaxed for what feels like the first time in days. Finally, I feel like I'm home. I look up as a beer appears in front of me and I take it from Handy as he sits next to me. He holds out his bottle and I tap the neck of mine against his.

  “To getting home safe.”

  I nod my head at the toast before taking a drink. “You do know I wasn’t actually in any danger, well unless you count from frustration. I swear I'm not sure how some guys got their qualifications.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  I groan, thinking of all the fuck ups that occurred while the men were training on the new equipment. “Let's just say that the hundred grand piece of equipment is worth substantially less now.” And I had to write up every report to explain why people couldn’t do as they were fucking told.

  “Shit, so you're glad to be home?”

  “Very.” I take another long drink.

  “So, how is William? Still walking?” He chuckles at his joke, not knowing that I'm now single and living in a strangers house.

  “Not sure, but if he's had a good fuck, it was probably Rickie who did it. Actually, Rickie looked pissed when I went to their house, so maybe it was someone else.”

  Handy freezes with the bottle halfway to his mouth, the look of confusion and shock clear on his face. “What?”

  I spend the next few minutes explaining everything that’s happened the last few days, leaving Handy angry as fuck.

  “I can't believe that little wank stain. I told you he was up to no good, I could see it in his cocky little face. Shit. How are you feeling?”

  “Numb. I don’t think it's fully hit me yet but I'm sure it will.”

  “How are you not angry enough to punch his cheating little face in?”

  That’s a great question. I haven't felt anything since I came home and discovered all my shit out of the house. Okay, that’s a lie, I would have killed William if I had seen him after I checked my bank account, but Aiden helped me get over that. I should be angry though and I'm not sure why I'm not. “Honestly? I don’t know. I should hate him with every single part of me, but there's nothing. Maybe once I find somewhere to live and I have less to worry about I will collapse. My only focus is finding a house.”

  “Wait, where the hell are you staying?”

  “With Aiden.”

  Handy sits forward and puts his beer on the small coffee table before turning entirely and giving me his full attention. “And who is Aiden?”

  Aiden’s name hadn’t come up when I was telling Handy about what had happened and his reaction makes me laugh. “Aiden is the driver who picked me up from the airport. I think he felt sorry for me and was worried about me having to sleep on the streets. He's been kind enough to give me a bed until I can get a room from housing… even though I think that’s gonna take six thousand weeks.” I humph when I stop talking and it's Handy’s turn to laugh at me.

  “I'll come back to the whole Aiden thing, but what did housing say?”

  “Before I went in and complained today, they thought they might have a room this week, but after I pissed off the woman with the pen, it might be a few weeks. Apparently, they don’t like it when you tell them how to do their jobs.”

  This causes Handy to burst out laughing. “Who did you speak to?”

  “Margaret?”

  The laughter increases and it doesn’t make my confidence grow. “Holy shit, brother, you are never getting a bed. You just pissed off a woman that can hold a grudge longer than my
mother.”

  Fantastic. Just what I wanted to hear. I need somewhere to stay and it looks like I'm getting further away from that.

  “Look, if you can give me until Thursday to clean out the spare room, it's yours. I know it's not the biggest room in the world but the double bed is comfy, and there is no rush for you to move out.”

  “Are you sure?” I want to make sure he's thought this through. I need somewhere until I can find an apartment off base or get assigned accommodation on base, and god knows how long that might take.

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. The room is full of junk so it's not like you will be taking space that I use, and it would be nice to have company for a change. Shame it has to be you but I will suffer through it.”

  He has a shit-eating grin on his face but I don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to his comment. Instead, I reply in the only logical way. “Thank you for the offer, but do you promise to keep your … night time activities behind closed doors? I've already seen more of you than I've ever wanted to.”

  As always Handy’s cheeks get red with the mention of how he got his nickname. Poor guy, he will never live that down.

  Chapter Eleven

  Aiden

  I've been stuck in my office all day trying to catch up on the design for a tattooist who is opening his third shop. He needed a logo that he could use on all his forms and advertising. It's been interesting working with him, but he is so freaking picky that I've had to change it a few times. I finally managed to finish it to his exacting standards so now I can sleep, well until tomorrow when I need to spend the whole day on my next job. Helping everyone has put me a little behind, but I don’t mind a few full days catching up, it's worth it to spend time in my brother’s kitchen.

  I stretch my back, groaning when it cracks in several places, but it relieves a lot of tension in the muscles. I rotate my neck as I walk through towards the kitchen, easing out the ache from the tightness. I've forgotten to eat today and my stomach is suddenly letting me know how much it hates me. A cramp goes through it as it grumbles loudly and I hear laughter, making me look up and meet Ralphs' eyes.