Page 21 of Is This for Real?
Rory introduces us to the other couples and asks them each a little about themselves. The atmosphere changes to a more festive feeling of camaraderie.
I dice the peppers and the garlic while Rory cuts up the chicken.
“So, you’re not looking for magic. I’m still intrigued by that statement,” he says.
I push my chef’s hat back. It keeps falling into my eyes.
Okay, I should be more open.“Did you think I was looking for magic?” I ask and then frown.That’s asking him, not revealing myself.
“I thought . . . you thought that you’d already found the right person with Jamie. But I didn’t realize you weren’t expecting magic with Jamie.” He side-eyes me as he drops the chicken pieces into the boiling water, and then he leaves to wash the cutting board. I think about my response.
Returning with the clean cutting board, knife in hand, he plops the garlic into the water.
“It’s not that I didn’t expect any magic with Jamie.” I cut the onion.
He says, “So, Jamie’s like your perfect partner if you had an arranged marriage?” He scoops up the cut-up celery and adds it to the pot.
My eyes tear—from the onion. “Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? Our parents would have totally set us up. They often joked about it. And I mean, similar life experiences growing up.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. I can share what I really think with Rory. “I just think the magic is overrated. The magic disappears in the mundane.”
“It’s not overrated. It’s the whole thing. You need the magic to survive the mundane,” Rory says.
“I saw it with my parents,” I say. “I mean, why do you think they arranged a second honeymoon? They were trying to get the magic back.”
Next to us, a couple is squabbling in whispers about how to cut the onion. The wife says, “I just think you should dice it in smaller pieces.”
“Okay, then you cut it,” the husband says, thrusting the cutting board toward her.
The chef compliments us on our teamwork. He then explains how to make the tomato sauce, the guacamole, and the queso. Together, we cut up the tomatoes and the peppers. The oil sizzles in the pan.
“The magic is like the heat applied to this dish. It makes everything come together,” Rory says. “You need that heat and that sizzle to get through it all.”
“That sizzle needs the heat, which you can’t maintain when you’re tired because you’ve been up all night with the kids. Why do you think Olivia keeps scheduling date nights?” I roll my neck. It’s stiff from staring at the computer screen all day.
Rory adds the tomatoes to the pan. Small pops sound as the tomato juices meet the oil. A yummy smell fills the air. “I think you can keep up the heat. It just takes some effort. My dad always counsels patients to make the effort to keep the romance alive.”
He kneads my neck. I feel like the tomato, which is currently melting in the pan. This is dangerous territory because I’m supposed to be an immutable-iceberg-friend, not a puddle of conflicting feelings. I focus on grating cheese for the queso.
I say, “Well, as long as you recognize some work is required. If you only expect magic, then your higher expectations are going to be disappointed when you’re arguing over making the bed.”
“What’s your position on making the bed?”
“I don’t feel strongly either way.”
“Same.” He smiles. “We won’t fight over that.”
I roll my eyes.
He removes the chicken from the pot and puts it out to cool. Next up is shredding the chicken to add to the sauce, and then we’re going to make the tacos. I quickly make the guac while he shreds the chicken. The chef is setting up a station in the corner with boiling oil to deep-fry the puffed tacos. We finish our dough balls, but other couples have queued up. As we wait, my phone beeps.
“I bet it’s Zelda,” I say. “She’s going out to a party tonight, and she wants me to provide feedback.” I hand Rory the plate of dough balls.
Zelda:Status report!
Me:Wearing HUMONGOUS apron and chef hat. Doing couples cooking course.
Zelda:You’ve still got legs. Think Claudette Colbert inIt Happened One Nightor Irene Dunne inThe Awful Truthwhen her skirt rides up and she catches Cary Grant looking. Show some leg.
Zelda and I have spent many a happy Sunday watching romantic comedies. I text back a dancing flamenco girl emoji.
