Page 16 of Take a Chance on Me

“I think you have it rigged,” he says under his breath, but he pulls up the address on his phone and points the car in the correct direction.

The restaurant looks small from the outside with pink siding and green trim. Except for the small statues outside the front window, it doesn’t even look like a Thai restaurant, but that changes as soon as we enter the establishment. A large aquarium takes up most of one wall and traditional Thai statues greet us on the other side. Giant silver fans, like the kind you hold and fan yourself with, hang from the ceiling, and all the decorations are complemented by the dark colors running throughout.

“Let’s make a picture with the statues as part of the hunt,” I say, motioning for him to stand next to one so I can take his picture. I’m about to pose for mine when a woman with dark hair and a thick accent greets us and shows us to a table, before handing us a menu and scurrying away.

Immediately, I am sucked into the menu as entree after entree jumps out at me, but I can tell that Derek is having more trouble. “What do you like?” I ask.

“Simple food,” he answers. “Chicken or steak and vegetables. Maybe rice or a fruit salad.”

I stare at him, blinking a few times as I try to process his utter lack of delicious food. “What about seasoning? Flavor?”

He picks up his glass of water and slides a coaster underneath before answering. “I use salt and pepper. That is really all that is necessary if it is cooked properly.”

Oh sweet peas. How has this man existed on such bland food? “Well, you are going to get much more than salt and pepper today, Derek. I suggest you try one of the curries or one of the Yum dishes.”

He looks back down at the menu and shakes his head softly. “I think I’ll stick with the cucumber salad and maybe some chicken and rice on the side.”

I sigh and set my menu down. “Derek, you have got to live a little. Try new things.”

“I am trying new things. Cucumber salad is not something I have had before, at least not the way it appears to be made here.”

And with that, I know the conversation is over. Convincing him would be like trying to convince a brick wall to move. Or fall. Or do anything other than be a brick wall.

The waitress returns and takes our orders and we stare at each other in silence until I can’t stand it any longer. I pull a pen from my purse and grab a napkin. “Since we’ve got time, let’s explore other things we could do that would make a great stop on the scavenger hunt.”

He arches his eyebrows high on his forehead. “You’re going to make the list on a napkin?”

“Why not? I don’t have paper on me, do you?” I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to pull some out, but he shakes his head. “Okay, I was thinking ice skating, the sand castle experience, and the kite festival.”

He shakes his head and frowns. “Those are seasonal and wouldn’t work year-round.”

“I know, but they’d be great to throw in. Actually, all the festivals should be a part. They can be like bonuses in the months they occur.”

“Festivals are fine, but we need to make sure there is enough draw year-round. I still believe we should include the Museum of Art.”

I cannot imagine a more boring place to visit, but I write it down. Though I don’t want to believe it, I’m sure there are others like Derek out there who will find the museum ‘divine’ as he says. “What else is there?”

Cooperville isn’t huge. There’s the beautiful downtown area where we are now which features a lot of touristy shops and restaurants, there’s the ocean just a five- or ten-minute drive from here, and there’s the more businessy district about twenty minutes away where we work.

“There’s the old lighthouse,” he says. “Perhaps they could take a picture at the top.”

“Ooh, that’s a good idea. We should also add kayaking to the list. I’m sure there’s a picturesque spot they could take a picture at.”

We continue to offer ideas until the food arrives. My stomach growls as soon as the waitress sets my plate down in front of me. I love curry, so the duck curry was a no-brainer for me. Derek, on the other hand, looks a little lost as he stares down at his salad. His chicken and rice are on a separate plate. Pushing the salad to the side for a moment, he begins with the chicken and rice, and I stifle a laugh. “Not feeling adventurous, huh?”

“I’m working my way up to it.” He forks a piece of chicken and examines it thoroughly before putting it in his mouth. A detective looking for clues would take less time than Derek is. If he eats every meal like this, it must take him hours to get through meals. Then again, if he makes most of his meals, he probably trusts his own cooking, boring as it is.

Ignoring him for the time being, I devour my curry. It is every bit as good as I expected, the sweet and spicy flavors wrestling for control over my tastebuds. It’s so good, in fact, that I don’t notice the coughing coming from Derek at first. And then it gets a little louder. I glance up to tell him to drink some water, and my eyes widen. His lips are not only bright red but twice their normal size, and when he opens his mouth, I can see that his tongue is swollen too. Oh crud, I made him try something new and now he’s having an allergic reaction. Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to be going into anaphylaxis, but if his tongue gets any bigger, he might.

I rummage in my bag for my wallet, throw some bills down on the table, and grab Derek’s hand. He looks up at me with wide eyes. “What is wrong with me?” is what I think he says, but his enunciation is garbled from his swollen tongue.

“You’re having an allergic reaction to something you ate. Do you have an EpiPen?” When he shakes his head, I pull him toward the door. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital. Give me your keys.”

“Nu uh,” he says, shaking his head. “I can drive.” Or, at least I’m pretty sure that’s what he says.

“No, you can’t. It’s not safe. If you go into anaphylaxis behind the wheel, that would be dangerous. So give me the keys.” I hold my hand out and wait for him to fork them over. He looks like he wants to argue, but in the end, his analytical mind wins and he drops them in my hand.

I drag him out of the restaurant, hollering to the waitress as we pass, “Sorry, we have to go. Money is on the table. Food was great.” Then we’re outside and racing to the car. The redness has now spread from Derek’s lips to the rest of his face, reminding me of the cover for an old French film - The Red Balloon. I just hope he doesn’t look in the mirror before we get him some treatment. He might kill me if he does.

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