Page 22 of Rat Park
Dominic took a careful spoonful from his wobbling piece before putting it in his mouth. His eyes widened.
“Wow,” he said. The flan was mild in flavour, enriched by the caramel coating the bottom. The texture was delicate enough to melt in his mouth but thick and buttery enough to be pleasant.
Flor shrugged, looking down at his own piece. “I like to bake. It’s a lot like science, really.”
“It’s really good. I don’t think I’ve ever baked anything,” he said, not counting the bread he’d made sometimes in prison.
“I could teach you. It’s not hard to do with a good recipe and a few tricks.”
Dominic shook his head. “I’m a lost cause.”
“Sounds like an excuse,” Flor said, and for the first time really saw Cat in his sharp eyes. Dominic shrugged as Esteban snorted.
“Watch out,” Esteban said. “He’s a stubborn one.”
“I wonder where he gets that from,” he said, looking at Cat. He worried for a second, but she laughed instead of being offended.
“Eat your flan,” she said.
Dominic ate the dessert slowly, savouring each bite. The meal had been good, but this was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He hadn’t really indulged in sugary things as a kid and didn’t know if he had a sweet tooth or if it was just Flor’s skill.
Dominic insisted on helping with the washing up when they were done, and then made his excuses to leave not long after that. To his relief, Cat didn’t press him to stay, letting him go with a hug.
“Wait,” Flor said before Dominic left, catching him by the front door.
Dominic turned around, looking at the Tupperware box Flor was holding out towards him, a slight blush on his cheeks.
“It’s some of the flan. I made too much, so…”
Dominic didn’t move to take it. “I—”
“Please,” Flor cut him off. Dominic looked at him for a moment before accepting the gift.
“Thanks,” Dominic said. Flor nodded before taking a step back.
“Uhm, well. See you,” Flor said, awkward for the first time since meeting him.
“Yeah. Thanks again. Bye.”
He stepped out of the house and walked towards the bus stop, having turned down Cat’s offer to drive him home. He leaned against the side of the shelter when he arrived and opened up the Tupperware box to peek inside. Dominic could have sworn the entirety of the remaining dessert was inside. The golden brown of it shone underneath the streetlight, the sweet smell of caramel filling the air before he closed the lid again.
He pressed the box lightly against his chest and waited for the bus to arrive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dominic had found Ian Ilbert after a little trial and error, a junkie-turned-therapist that looked vaguely like Mick Jagger but without the overdone swagger.
“You had fun, then?” Ian asked. Dominic had found himself bringing up the meal at the Romeros’, unprompted, and now shrugged in response to Ian’s question.
“Yeah. I mean…yeah.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“I did. I mean…yeah. I did.”
There was an extended pause as Dominic looked to the side. Ian’s office was small and simple, the corner of a table between them so Ian could take notes if he wanted, although he didn’t do it often.
“Dominic, why do you think you got hooked on drugs?” Ian asked. It wasn’t the first time Ian had brought up this topic, but he always gave the same answer.
