Sarah & Leia Cook Dinner

Opening Image: Sarah And Leia Cook Dinner

Sarah and I are standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Or, more precisely, Sarah is cooking, and I am helping. Our kitchen isn’t the newest. It’s rather old fashioned, but beautiful. Parts of the wall are covered in turqouise tiles. White cabinets are adorned with crystal door knobs. The floor is covered in small hexagonal tiles. A few of them are missing, but somehow it adds to the charm of the space, rather than detracting from it. The space is shaped oddly, like a big hallway, three doors, two large windows. There’s lots of light, but no wall space to put a table. We’ve put a table in anyway. We put it adjacent to some cabinets that we’ve stopped using since. A sacrifice well worth it. Every kitchen needs a space where you can sit down. Chop vegetables. Drink a cup of tea. Or simply keep whoever is cooking company.

It’s Friday night and I’m really really glad to be home. Work has been long this week. Sarah hands me the onions and I start peeling them. I usually peel the onions. Whatever it is about onions that usually makes people cry, it doesn’t work on me. Maybe it’s because I wear contact lenses. Or maybe I’m just immune. Maybe it’s my superpower. Sometimes it’s nice to just sit down and peel onions. I feel useful. Peaceful. The weekend is here and I get to spend time with my best friend, making good food.  Sarah and I have been best friends since grad school. We finished a while ago. Now, in our early thirties we’re both therapists. On the good days I love helping people. But this last week has been… not that. I’ve been complaining to Sarah, who is nodding along compassionately. She gets it. Or at least I think she does. Her work is going well at the moment. But everyone has good days and bad days. Or weeks. 

“I had a conversation with Terri today” she says. Terri is her boss. “Feedback for the quarter.” Now I’m all ears. Quarterly feedback is important. It determines what clients she’ll get next quarter. “My clients have been happy”, Sarah says. “One of them even wrote us a really great review.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m glad one of us is doing well. Sarah hands me some red and yellow bell peppers, still wet from the sink. I cut them up finely and pass them over to Sarah, who puts them into the frying pan.

We hear the front door open and close. Sarah’s face lights up a little, a small smile playing on her full red lips. Sarah is stunning when she smiles, all flushed cheeks and blonde hair and tall and amazon-like. Amazonian? She has bright blue eyes and the longest eyelashes in human history. This particular smile is for Nate who has dropped his leather messenger bag in the entry way and is coming into the kitchen to give Sarah a big hug. Nate lives here too. He is Sarah’s boyfriend. They’ve been together for two years, going on three. They’re the kind of couple everyone wants to be. They’re beautiful people and they make each other better. They’re the kind of couple even I’d like to be a part of. Except that my dating life hasn’t been so great lately. 

Sarah hands me the wooden spoon that she’s been using to stir the yellow curry we’re cooking. It’s stained yellow from the tumeric in the curry powder. “Stir this for me Leia,” Sarah tells me. I’m glad she’s taking charge tonight. I’m beat and my brain can just about handle single instructions. I just want a break from being responsible for things. Too much responsibility taking all week, with the clients. I feel admiration for Sarah, for having any responsibility juice left at the end of her work week.

Nate is setting the table in the dining room. I love the small hit of synchronized harmony of everyone silently working together. Sarah is getting the rice out of the rice cooker. It has these black wild rice pieces mixed in with the normal white rice. They really put the dish over the top. I pour the curry sauce into a bowl and put it on the table. I sit down, my body feels heavy. I really am tired.

“How was your day, love?” Nate asks Sarah. She beams at him. “It was really good,” she answers. “Terry gave me some feedback today. Seems like I’ve been doing well. She says several of my clients have been saying very positive things.” Nate smiles at her proudly, nudging his chair a little closer to hers. “I’m so proud of you!” he says. I feel proud of Sarah too. She deserves to be appreciated. She’s a good therapist, and a good friend. It’s a good thing, to get positive feedback like that. “How was your day Leia?” Nate asks. I grimace. “Not the best”, I say. Nate nods understandingly. 

We keep eating our curry. It’s a great curry if I may say so myself. And our food standards are really quite high. Everyone in our group house likes to cook, including Murphy, our fourth house mate, who isn’t here tonight. I really like it when all four of us get together for dinner, as we normally do. There’s a cozyness that arises when you’re having food with the people you love most in the world. But tonight the chair next to mine is empty and I’m not quite feeling the cozyness. Sarah and Nate chatter on about their days. They’re mostly focused on each other, on the other side of the table. I’m tired enough that they seem far away, their voice passing through me like ghosts that are hard to hold on to. 

A few minutes later I hear Nate saying my name. “Leia?” he asks. “Are you still awake?” I nod. “I am really tired”, I say. “I think I’ll go to bed,” I add. “Go”, he says. “We’ve got clean-up covered.” I smile gratefully. I grab my plate and put it into the dishwasher before making my way to my bedroom. My room feels cozy. The pillows on the bed look cozy too. And the blanket. I lie down. Just for a few moments, I tell myself, before I drift off to sleep.