by Foxglove Lee
“Aunt Qeisha’s just really particular about things. Apricot’s food is like forty dollars a bag from the vet. It’s holistic or something.”
“What’s that mean?”
Mila shrugged. “Beats me.”
“A little cheese won’t kill her.”
Laura started washing potatoes while Mila swept cheese out of the fridge and onto the floor. It was so crumbly that she had a hard time massing it up with her dishcloth. She tried really hard not to be mad at Laura for making this mess -- after all, Laura had offered to clean it up -- but she could feel her stomach clenching in annoyance.
“Oh wow, this gas stove is really cool!”
Mila turned around. “Yeah, I know. Makes me want to roast marshmallows.”
Laura turned on one of the burners, and a flame popped up, making her jump. “Ooh, that’s kind of exciting.”
“I guess so.” Mila tried not to laugh at her girlfriend, but Laura sure was cute. “The pots and pans are in that cupboard there.”
“Yeah, I saw, but I should probably get the meat started. It’ll take the longest to cook. Is there a roasting pan?”
“Umm…” Mila didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know what a roasting pan was. “I think… maybe?”
Laura opened the oven. “Here it is. Perfect!”
“Turn off the burner first!” Mila shrieked, reaching for the knob as Laura set the pan on the stovetop. “Sheesh, you’re gonna burn the place down!”
“Oops.”
Mila turned back to her mess, tripping over Apricot, who was still eating cheese off the floor. Oh well. One less thing to worry about.
It took forever to clean the fridge. Mila had to bring out all the condiments and wipe them down, then clean out the basket that held them. It was like trying to scoop up little bits of styrofoam. Laura seemed to have a much easier task, placing the marinated pork they’d bought in the oven and setting water to boil for potatoes and veggies.
When Mila tossed the last of the spilled cheese into the sink, Laura looked up from the potato she was chopping. “I know we got off to kind of a rocky start, but I’m sure dinner’s going to be g--ahhh!”
“Oh my God!” Mila screamed when blood dripped on the cutting board. “What did you do?”
“My thumb! I cut it.” Laura dropped the knife and grabbed her thumb. “It hurts! It hurts!”
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Mila didn’t know what to do. “Don’t panic!”
“I’m not panicking. You’re panicking.”
“You are too panicking.”
“No I’m not,” Laura howled. “I’m just screaming because it huuuuuuurts!”
“Here.” Mila turned on the tap. “Run it under some water.”
“That’s for burns, not for cuts.”
“It’s for cuts too, to get the germs out.” Mila grabbed Laura by the wrist and shoved her hand under the tap.
“Owwww!” Laura jerked her hand away, nearly throwing Mila across the kitchen. “You turned on the hot water, stupid!”
Mila gasped. “How dare you call me stupid? It’s my birthday!”
“Well, sorrrrrry! Blame it on the blood loss.”
Laura wrapped one of the pristine linen tea towels around her thumb before Mila could stop her. “What are you doing? You’re going to stain that!”
“I’m only dying here, and you’re worried about what your aunt will think?”
That was a way more loaded statement than Laura probably meant.
“Look, I’m sorry.” Mila hooked her arm around Laura’s and shuffled down the hall. “Come on, there must be gauze and bandages and stuff in here.”
The bathroom was snow white, and Mila worried that by the time they were done, it would be spotted red. Maybe Laura was right -- she was worried about all the wrong things.
“Can you unwrap the tea towel?” Mila asked. “I need to get a look.”
“It’s throbbing.” Laura seemed close to tears. “What if I need stitches? What if we have to go to the hospital? It’ll totally ruin your birthday.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t care if we spend my birthday in the hospital, as long as we spend it together.”
Laura tilted her head and gave Mila a mushy look. “Awww, that’s so sweet. I love you so much!”
Being sweet sort of embarrassed Mila, and she held Laura by the wrist. “Here, I’m going to run this under some water and take off the towel.”
“Cold water this time!”
Laura cringed as Mila gently peeled back the tea towel. Her stomach tumbled like a washing machine because she was so sure Laura’s finger was going to start spraying blood all over the place, like in a horror movie.
But it didn’t.
Mila and Laura both leaned in for a closer look.
“Where is it?” Mila asked.
“It was definitely bleeding before. I mean, I felt it.”
“There’s blood on the tea towel,” Mila said, in agreement.
“Yeah, I know,” Laura snapped. “I’m sorry, okay? Where are the bandages?”
Mila pulled one out of the medicine cabinet, but she wasn’t sure where to stick it. Suddenly, a rich, hazy odor met her nostrils. “Wow, dinner smells good.”
Laura smirked, rinsing her thumb, then drying it on the linen towel. “Gimme that bandage.”
Mila followed the scent of meat into the hallway. “Hey, actually, I think it might be burning.”
“No way.” Laura wrapped the bandage around her thumb and admired her handiwork. “It’s only been in there a couple minutes.”
Mila crossed the hall. The closer she came to the kitchen, the more certain she grew. “Definitely smells like burning.”
“No, it can’t be.” Laura raced past Mila, yanking open the oven door.
Plumes of smoke kissed their cheeks, and Mila jerked away, coughing. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know! This shouldn’t have happened. It must be because it’s gas, and I’m used to electric.”
Fanning the smoke with Aunt Qeisha’s tea towel, Mila took a closer look. “Why’s it set to broil? Shouldn’t it be on bake?”
Laura’s eyes opened wide and blinked fast from the smoke. “I don’t know. Should it?”
Beep beep beep.“Fire!” Beep beep beep. “Fire!”Beep beep beep…
“Oh my God, what is that?” Laura covered her ears with both hands.
“The smoke detector. What do you think?”
Beep beep beep.“Fire!” Beep beep beep. “Fire!”Beep beep beep…
The deafening alarm shrieked through the house. Mila could feel it in her skull, ringing like a churchbell. The alarm itself was on the ceiling in the hallway, just outside the kitchen, and Mila flapped the tea towel at it, trying to make it think the air wasn’t quite as smoky as it really was.
“Shut up!” she screamed, barely able to hear her voice over the terrible wail. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
It did shut up.
“Thanks.”
“What?” Laura asked from the kitchen.
“I was talking to the smoke detector.” Mila threw the tea towel over her shoulder, nearly tripping over Apricot as she made her way back into the kitchen. She still hadn’t swept the parmesan off the floor. She really was counting on the cat to eat it all. “So, what now?”
“The top of the pork loin was super-burnt, but I flipped it over and switched the oven to bake. Shouldn’t be long. I’ve got the potatoes boiling and the carrots in another pot.”
Mila’s heart went out to Laura. She was trying so hard to make this dinner special, and everything was going wrong.
“Smells good,” Mila said.
Laura grimaced. “Smells burnt.”
“That’s okay. I like a bit of burntness.”
Throwing an arm over Mila’s shoulder, Laura said, “I love you.”
“Is it hot in here? I’m sweating like a pig.”
Stupid. What a stupid thing to say.
Mila felt jittery, and she pulled open the
oven to check on the meat.
Beep beep beep. “Fire!” Beep beep beep. “Fire!”Beep beep beep…
“No! Not again.” Mila ran away from Laura, fanning the smoke detector. It didn’t work this time.
Beep beep beep. “Fire!” Beep beep beep. “Fire!”Beep beep beep…
“Take the batteries out!” Laura called from the kitchen.
“It doesn’t have batteries. It’s hooked up to the electrical system or something.”
“Oh God, it’s going to call the fire department, isn’t it?”
“We better hope not. If my aunt finds out I had a friend over…”
Laura looked up from her steaming pot of potatoes. “Just a friend?”
“Now is not the time, Laura!”
Mila fanned the smoke detector so hard her arms started to hurt.
“Mila?”
“What?”
“Why don’t you try opening some windows?”
“Oh.” She’d been sure Laura was going to rant about how Mila had said friend instead of girlfriend. “Windows. Good idea.”
But Mila spotted the front door first and went there instead, opening and closing it swiftly to drive some fresh spring air into the house.
Beep beep beep. “Fire!” Beep beep beep. “Fire!”Beep beep beep…
“When will this end?” Mila cried, as she spotted Mr. Singh stepping out of the neighboring house. His eyes shot wide open. He could obviously hear the alarm.
“Is everything okay, Mila?”
“Yeah, fine.”
He approached Aunt Qeisha’s front porch, and his daughter followed along with a book of piano music. They were obviously on their way to her lessons.
“Anything I can help you with?” he asked, trying to peek past her.
“No, no,” she shouted over the alarm. “Just cooking dinner. I’m not great at it, obviously.”
On cue, the smoke detector stopped wailing. Mila could still hear its piercing tone echoing inside her skull, but her muscles relaxed. “Night, Mr. Singh.” She didn’t know his daughter’s name, but she closed the door on them before they could even reply.
“Thank the lord!” Mila breathed a sigh of relief and moseyed into the kitchen. “Everything under control in here?”
“I think so.” Laura poked at the potatoes with a fork. “Almost there. Would you mind setting the table?”
Mila smiled because it was so domestic, wasn’t it? The pair of them preparing a meal, sitting down together…
But when Mila glanced over Laura’s shoulder, her heart seized. “The sliding glass door. You opened it!”
Laura looked to the kitchen door and nodded. “Yeah, to let in some fresh air.”
“But you didn’t close the screen!” Mila rushed to the door and slammed it shut. “Oh God, where’s Apricot?”
Mila raced into the dining room, looking under the table because Apricot liked to sleep on the cushioned chairs. But she wasn’t there now.
“What’s the problem?” Laura asked.
“Apricot!” Mila scoured the living room. “She’s not allowed outside.”
“Oh. Well, she’ll come back.”
“How?” Mila raced from the guest room to her aunt’s bedroom. “She’s not an outdoor cat. Who’s to say whether she’ll find her way home? Lauraaaa! My aunt’s going to kill me!”
“I didn’t see her leave. She’s probably still in the house.”
Mila raced to the front hall and crammed her feet into her shoes. “I can’t find her anywhere. I’m going out to look.”
“But dinner’s almost ready,” Laura whined. “Let’s eat first, then we’ll go out later. Together.”
“I’m going now.” Grabbing her hoodie off the hook, Mila threw open the door. She went out, circling the house, whispering, “Apricot? Apricot!”
She didn’t want to shout, because she didn’t want to attract the neighborhood’s attention. When she reached the backyard, she gazed through the glass door at Laura mashing potatoes like a maniac. Wow, either she was really serious about creamy potatoes or she was seriously mad at Mila for leaving the house.
Who is she to be mad? Laura didn’t understand responsibility. She had a mother and father to take care of her, to give her everything she needed, to cook and clean, supply her with cash. Laura had everything handed to her on a silver platter. Of course she didn’t know how to show respect for someone else’s house, or how to take care of a cat.
But she did know how to take care of Mila. Look at her in Aunt Qeisha’s kitchen, struggling to make me the perfect birthday dinner. It’s really sweet. All this for me. Mila hastened her steps, touring the yard, running around the block. Apricot could be anywhere. She was so little. She could be hiding somewhere Mila would never think to look.
Laura was probably right. The cat would come back on her own. Animals were smart that way. And, if Mila was smart, she’d sit her butt down at the dinner table and allow Laura to present her a special birthday meal.
When Mila came in from outside, the first scent that hit her was burnt meat. Still, her stomach rumbled. All that running around reminded her how hungry she was.
“Okay,” Laura said from the dining room. “Time to eat. It’s… it’s…”
Mila crossed the threshold, expecting something amazing: candles, roses, and a gourmet meal. What she got was Laura looking like she’d been hit by a truck and burnt meat stacked beside a heap of potatoes and cooked mini carrots.
“I’m sorry.” Laura’s lip started to quiver. “It didn’t turn out very well.”
“No, no, no.” Mila’s heart gushed, and she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. “No, honey, it looks great. I’m sure it’s delicious. Let’s eat, okay?”
“Okay,” Laura whimpered, falling into her seat.
Mila smiled at her sweetheart and tried to hold that smile as she looked down at her food. Maybe the potatoes were okay? She scooped some onto her fork. “Hey, not bad!”
Laura’s eyes brightened. “Really?”
“Yeah. You sure know your way around a potato.”
“Thanks, I…” Laura made a face and cocked her head. “What’s that noise?”
Mila could hear it too. “Sounds like… no, not the heating vents. Maybe…” All at once, she knew what it was. “Oh my God.”
Scrambling from her chair, Mila stormed down the hall and into the guest room, where she slept. “Apricot!”
The cat hadn’t escaped. She was sitting in the middle of the plump white duvet, vomiting mountains of parmesan.
“Uh-oh,” Laura said, watching over Mila’s shoulder. “I guess cats shouldn’t eat cheese after all.”
“Aunt Qeisha’s going to kill me if it that stains!”
“Aren’t you concerned about the cat?” Laura slipped by, into the room, but when she got close to the bed she turned promptly around, looking like she was going to throw up. “Oh my God, Mila, that really stinks.”
“It’s just cat puke. It can’t be as bad as all that.” But when Mila got a whiff of Apricot’s vomit, she promptly changed her tune. “How can it smell like that? It smells like… like…”
“Like baby sick,” Laura said. “Like sour milk. Must be the dairy.”
“Christ Almighty!” Mila tried to shove her nose in her armpit while she reached for the zipper on the duvet cover. “Help me take this off, would you?”
“No, it stinks! Ugh, I’m gonna puke.”
“Just help! We’ll do it fast.”
“Nooo!” Laura cried as she grabbed one end of the cover and yanked it from the duvet. They tossed the cover on the floor like a biohazard, then looked at the duvet itself. “Is it stained?”
“I don’t think so,” Mila said, though she didn’t dare come too close. “We got it just in time.”
“Oh my god, Mila, I am seriously going to puke. That stuff stinks so bad it hurts.”
Mila couldn’t agree more, but she tried to stay strong. “Open the door to the basement, turn on the lights, and get the washing m
achine ready.” Scooping the balled-up cover with both hands, she cried, “Here I come!”
Laura ran ahead, smacking on the basement light and opening the front-load washer. “Get it in! Close it!”
With the puke-covered cover contained, they could breathe a little easier. Still, Laura opened a tub of laundry detergent and took a big whiff. “Oh, that’s better.”
“Let’s add some bleach, just to be safe.”
“You really know how to work this thing?” Laura asked, pouring liquid detergent into the cap. “How much do I put in?”
“That’s enough!” Mila yanked the cap away while Laura was still pouring. “Oops. Sorry.”
Laundry detergent ran down Laura’s hand, but her scowl quickly turned into a grin. “Thanks a lot, Klutzface.”
“Yeah right.” Mila fixed the settings on the machine, then turned it on. “Who’s the one that cut her finger, burned the meat, let the cat escape…”
“The cat didn’t actually escape,” Laura said, then giggled. “If she had, she would have puked outside, and I wouldn’t be feeling like I just ate a bad egg.”
Mila couldn’t help laughing. “I know what you mean.”
“Well, you said you wanted an evening of domesticity.” Laura shrugged, flashing a smile. “Careful what you wish for.”
Leaving the washing machine to its own devices, Mila followed Laura back upstairs. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’ve had fun tonight. Or… maybe fun’s not the right word…”
Laura laughed as they sat down in front of their cold meals, just staring at their plates.
After a while, Laura said, “I’m looking at those potatoes, and all I can see is…”
“Cat puke?” Mila asked.
Laura turned up her nose and nodded. “It’s soooo grossing me out!”
“Same here.” Mila felt terrible, after all the trouble Laura had gone to. But, hey, at least they could laugh about it. “Want to go straight to cake?”
“God, yes!”
Laura disappeared into the kitchen, taking their plates and returning with a cake. Candles blazed on top of the chocolate frosting. In blue letters, it said, “Happy Birthday Mila.” She stood to get a better look, and Laura hugged her waist.
“Better blow out your candles,” Laura warned. “Before the smoke detector goes off again…”
