__________
Ben
"Oh, wow," I breath out, stepping into Jason’s small, cozy house. The air is thick and vibrant with aromas. It isn’t just a smell; it’s a feeling of warmth like a comforting hug. There is a deep, earthy undertone of cloves, somehow reminding me of my mother’s garden after it rained. A whisper of something sweet and floral, like jasmine blooming. It’s an olfactory smorgasbord. “Dinner smells amazing,” I say, leaning into his outstretched arms.
“I was hoping you’d be here soon. Dinner’s just about ready.” As if on cue, the oven timer goes off. “Let me take your coat.”
Jason lets go of me, and I miss his warmth already. After helping me out of my coat and hanging it on the rack, he leads me into the kitchen. The smell only grows stronger when he opens the oven door. Garlic from the bread fills the room.
My eyes shift around the space, and I realize that he has taken down all the decorations from our playdate last night, setting the scene for our grown-up date tonight. Candles adorn the set table along with two empty wine glasses.
After pulling the bread from the oven, Jason pulls out a chair from the table and offers me a smile. “Please, sit.”
I take the chair, and he pushes it in for me. My stomach flutters at the gesture.
“Wine?” He asks, picking up a bottle of red from the table.
“I’ve never been much of a wine drinker, but I’d like a little if that’s okay?” It comes out more like a question.
He pours us each a glass, mine filled only about a quarter way, his is half. After setting the bottle back on the table, he steps over to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, cracks the top, pours it into a couple of glasses for us, sets them down on the table, then grabs the already-loaded plates filled with pasta and meat sauce. A big bowl of salad sits in the middle of the table, and how the basket of garlic bread materializes next to it, I have no idea. It’s like magic.
"Jason," I manage, a grin spreading across my face. "I… I wasn't sure what to expect, but this is… incredible. The spices in the air… they feel alive." Just like the flowers in my mother’s garden.
"Thank you. I’ve always loved to cook, but it’s more difficult cooking for just myself, so it’s nice to be able to cook for two.” His voice is filled with a fondness I haven’t felt since childhood. “Please, dig in.”
Jason reaches for the salad tongs and fills his empty bowl before passing it to me. I hand him my empty bowl, and he fills it before setting it in front of himself. He begins eating, and I follow his lead, except I start with the garlic bread. After the first bite, and garlic hits my tongue, a low moan escapes my mouth, “Mmm, this is so good.”
Jason smiles around his bite of salad. “Thanks,” he tells me after he swallows. “Glad you like it.”
After a few moments of silent eating, and we’re both no longer starving, the conversation is easy between us, avoiding any heavy topics. Jason looks like he wants to say something, but he's scared he’ll ruin the moment.
“Thank you for the reading tools, by the way. I think they’re helping,” I tell him with soft eyes. He lets out a breath as if he were holding it.
“That’s great. I have some time next week if you want me to work with you some.”
“Y-you don’t mind?” I ask, my heart skipping another beat. If he keeps this up, I’m gonna need to see a Cardiologist.
“Of course I don’t mind. I would be honored to be the one to help you be the best version of yourself.”
A feeling of pure, unadulterated joy bubbles up inside me. The anxieties of the past seem to evaporate like mist in the morning sun, replaced by an exhilarating sense of possibility.
The aroma of garlic and basil swirls around us, a comforting hug as we twirl our forks through the perfectly al dente spaghetti. Jason’s eyes, the color of a summer sky, crinkle at the corners as he takes a mouthful.
“This is seriously incredible,” I murmur, voice rich with genuine appreciation of his cooking. “You have a real gift, Jason. For food, for… everything.”
His smile is genuine, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the steaming plate. “It’s just love, Ben. And maybe a little bit of magic from my mom’s old recipe book.”
A sigh, light as a dandelion, escapes me. “Speaking of moms, it’s funny how life’s little detours can lead us to such unexpected blossoms.”
Jason leans back, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. “You mention flowers a lot. How did that become your…sanctuary? I know you told me a little about your mom. Would you share more with me?”
“Well,” I begin, stabbing my fork into a rogue meatball, “it all started after the accident. The one that… took her. It was so sudden. The other driver ran the light, and we didn’t see him. One minute we were singing to the radio, the next thing I know, there are sirens blasting through the air.” I take a sip of water, trying to calm my nerves. It’s easier to talk about it now, but it’s been quite the journey to get here.
My voice cracks, but I push through. “It felt like the world had been painted in shades of gray after that day, and I couldn’tfind the color again. And then, in the midst of all that bleakness, a single, vibrant red flower bloomed by the side of the road where she… where it happened. I think it was a poppy, but not sure if that’s what it was, but it was so defiantly alive, so full of a promise.”
“A poppy,” Jason mused, his gaze distant for a moment. “Nature’s stubborn beauty.”
“Mom always said that even in the darkest soil, life finds a way to push through. After the funeral, my dad… he spiraled down fast. It felt like he was trying to scrub her memory clean. He packed away all her photos and donated her clothes. He even demolished her garden and tore down her potting shed, where she nurtured her plants. It was like he was erasing her, and in doing so, a part of me felt erased too.” My fork clinked against the ceramic plate when I dropped it. “I felt adrift, untethered.”
