“Not yet. You already seasoned it right—now you let the heat do its job. Two, maybe three minutes. You’re building that crust.”
Tyler shifted his weight, clearly itching to do something. “So we just stand here and watch?”
Hunter chuckled. “Kind of like life. One must let things unfold in their own time.”
They stood side by side as the edges of the steak begin to change color.
“When it’s ready, it’ll release easy when you flip it. If it’s sticking, it’s not ready.”
Tyler crouched slightly, studying it. “Okay, got it. This is way more detailed than I thought it would be..”
“It’s a rite of passage—learning how to grill. Kind of like driving.”
“Yeah. That’s cool,” Tyler said.
The vulnerability in his voice, the obvious yearning for approval, kind of broke my heart. I’d not realized how much he wanted and needed a father figure in his life. How could I have not seen that more clearly?
After a moment, Hunter nodded. “Go ahead. Flip it.”
Tyler slid the tongs underneath and turned it over. Clean. Even from the doorway, I could see perfect grill marks lining the surface.
Tyler’s face lit up. “It looks good, right?”
Hunter gave an approving nod. “Now same thing on this side. Then we’ll move it over just a bit—let it finish without sitting right on the hottest part.”
After a few minutes, Tyler shifted the steak slightly as instructed. “So not directly over the flame the whole time.”
“Right. Sear first, then ease off. You don’t want to rush it. Also, one last thing,” Hunter said. “When we take them off, we don’t want to cut into them right away.”
“Why not?” Tyler asked.
“Resting keeps all the juices where they belong.”
Tyler nodded slowly. “Patience and rest. And salt.”
Hunter glanced at him, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Don’t push too hard, right? Like in life?”
I left them to it, returning my attention to the salad and asparagus, feeling warm all over.
We ateat the kitchen table with the patio doors open to the May evening, the scent of the ocean coming up the hill with the cooling air. The steaks were perfect, juicy with just the right amount of pink in the center.
“This is incredible,” I said after the first bite.
“Mom, grilling’s way more complex than I thought,” Tyler said. “But now I know the secret.”
I raised my glass. “To a good steak on a spring evening, and to you both. This was a good day.”
“The best day,” Tyler said, clinking his milk glass against my wine glass.
“Yes, it was,” Hunter said, tapping us each in turn.
I glanced at my son, noticing something interesting in his expression. Tyler had always been older than his age. Kind of aseven going on thirtytype of thing. But tonight, he looked like a kid, with his hair disheveled and hanging on Hunter’s every word, a goofy grin on his face, even when he was chewing a piece of steak. And something about that made me want to cry.
“Mom, what?” Tyler asked. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No, your face is fine. I was just thinking about when you were small and now, here you are, practically an adult.” It wasn’t at all what I was thinking about but I couldn’t possibly share my real thoughts.
“I’m going to have my license soon, and I can’t wait,” Tyler said, completely oblivious to my angst. Which is how it should be. He was too mature. Too responsible. I couldn’t remember the last time he did anything even remotely against the rules. He took care of me. Did his homework. Gave everything he had during baseball practice. I’d even heard him practicing guitar before school that morning.
