Page 41 of Group Hug

“Oh, um… how about if I call you in a few hours? If I can manage to get back to sleep, that will be the best thing, so yeah. Waking me up wouldn’t be so great.”

After showers and breakfast, I let Petra know I’ve left easy microwavable meals in the refrigerator for her in case she gets hungry. And finally, Weston and I are on our way south. We should be quite early unless there is a traffic jam. And in Indiana, you can usually depend on one of those.

Thirty-Three

Weston

I can’t imaginewhat Callum is feeling. Since he’s driving, I don’t want to interrogate him and make him nervous or upset, but he seems to be projecting a steely resolve this morning. I don’t know if it means he’s planning to ask a bunch of hard questions when we get there, or if he’s already decided that leaving us is a forgone conclusion. So on the drive down, we listen to music, and I ask him general questions about his cooking classes. We’ve never really talked much about what he does in them and what kind of students he has.

“All sorts of people show up. Almost all of them come with a friend or a family member, and that’s good because they can work as a team. Once in a while, it’s a young couple who want to learn how to cook now that they’re married, or some are couples on a date who don’t know each other very well, and they can be interesting to watch. The majority of the students are women though, and they’re all ages. Usually, they’re happy to be there and are ready to have some fun, but I’ve had a few who are thereunder duress because they’ve somehow never gotten the basics of cooking figured out.”

“Do they ever hit on you?”

He laughs. “It happens, but I haven’t let it go anywhere. I usually try to act oblivious.”

“Do you ever have any cooking disasters?”

“Once in a while someone will mess up horribly, but most problems can be fixed somehow. The goof-ups are always good learning experiences.”

“Have you ever messed up on a recipe?”

“Moi?!” Callum snickers. “Bite your tongue, Weston.”

“So I take it you have.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I got distracted a few weeks ago—probably because I was kind of sleepy after a long night of playing with you and Petra. I burned the white bean chili.” He smiles at me and winks, then quickly looks back at the road. “Totally worth it. I was just really careful not to scoop anything off the bottom of the pan when I served it, and I don’t think anyone noticed. I wasn’t crazy about the flavor though.”

I chuckle for a moment, but my smile fades as my thoughts shift back to home. “You think Petra’s okay?”

“I sure hope so. If you want to head straight back after we meet up with Professor Bates, that would be okay with me.”

“I dunno, Callum, that’s an awful lot of driving for you all in one day. Let’s have a nice dinner and relax. We can see what she sounds like when she calls us. If she calls us. If we think she needs us, we can always drive back tonight. And if you’re too tired, I can drive your car.”

An hour later, we’ve checked into the Airbnb and dropped off our backpacks. We hit a trendy café for a quick bite, and we’re heading to the address Callum’s former professor gave him. It’s on the far end of the commercial district of Madison, but I guess it’s still fairly close to other businesses. It’s on a pretty street,and the zoning is definitely mixed. The houses and storefronts are all well-maintained and attractive until we get to one that has a burnt-looking, weed-choked lawn and a huge, overflowing dumpster in the front yard. The dumpster smells to high heaven.

Callum parks on the street, and we step out of the car. The smell is ghastly—like a filthy litterbox filled with rotten fish.

“Good lord,” I exclaim. “What on earth do you think went on in this house? I hope it’s not this bad inside. You might never get the smell out.”

Just then a couple of workmen lumber out the front door hauling a stained and tattered rolled-up rug between them. They both have masks on their faces and are wearing heavy gloves. They heave the rug into the dumpster, and we both jump back as a plume of dust flies up and blankets the air. More smell. Oh, ugh.

“Excuse, me,” Callum says, “Is Professor Bates here yet? I’m supposed to be meeting her here.”

The men eye him. It’s hard to see the expressions on their faces because of the masks, but they look a little bit like they’re smirking. “She’s upstairs in her room,” one of them says to us.

Callum looks at me quizzically and mouths, “Her room?” Then he says audibly, “I had no idea she actually lived here.Howcan anyone live here?”

The worker just shrugs and heads back indoors. They leave the door open, so we take it as our cue to enter at will. Jeez… I can’t wait. I wish I had a handkerchief or a leftover pandemic mask handy. I hope I don’t lose my lunch.

When we get inside, however, we’re pleasantly surprised to see that there has been some serious renovation and cleaning done to the property already, and the smell seems to be all located outside in the foul trash bin. Callum looks relieved as he says, “The neighbors must want that dumpster removed in the worst way.”

I follow him through some empty rooms toward the back of the house where instinct must be telling him to look for the kitchen. What we see there, I must admit, is not at all what I feared. It’s a clean space with a tall ceiling and gleaming new appliances that to my untrained eye appear to be top-of-the-line. Callum silently spins in a slow circle, taking in the counter space, cooktops, and all the accouterments that I don’t understand. He looks impressed. And then he casts a worried look my way.

I move closer to him and sling an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay if you like it, Callum. We’ll understand.”

I give him a squeeze just as we hear footsteps clopping into the kitchen. We turn to see a heavily made-up woman of an indeterminable age marching up to us. Her high heels make a terrible clatter on the hardwood floor. I guess she’d be attractive if she toned everything down about fifty percent. She kind of looks desperate to make an impression this way.

“Hello, Callum. Right on time. That’s a good sign.”

---