Generation 02, Chapter 09: A Day Off

I wake up at 6:30 and I am surprised to realize that I'm not sleep deprived nor am I sore or stressed.  It's Saturday and the start of my first weekend off.  

And it's amazing.

I decide to dedicate thirty minutes to showering, thirty for getting dressed, an hour to eat breakfast and read the newspaper, and an hour for taking a nice morning walk. 

I stand under the shower and let the water pour over me.  It's an amazing feeling that I cannot get enough of it.  I hop out of the shower and pick out a nice cheery outfit to wear.  For once, it is not black.  Or grey.  Or brown.  In fact, of the clothes that I own at the Dhaval's, I don't have a single item in black.

I walk to the kitchen and take my time reading the newspaper and nibbling on a warm piece of toast.  Then I glance at the clock.  

7:02.  

Holy shit.  I only spent 30 minutes getting ready?  What am I supposed to do with all of my time?

After breakfast, I walk outside around to Champ's immaculately kept garden.  It's small but it's still gorgeous with trees and the flowers and the smells of herbs and vegetables and fruits.  

Suddenly my phone beeps.

Hi Calla, it's Champ.  My mom can start cooking lessons today.

I text back: That would be awesome.  Thanks!

What time?  Is 10 too early?

Shall we make it 9?

Champ says his mom's house isn't too difficult to find, but he's going to drive me over anyway.  At quarter to nine, he arrives at the Dhaval's house.  We exchange greetings and then get rolling.

As we drive across town, I can't help but notice the beautiful scenery.  It's so much different from the city.  I ooh and awe at the trees and the blue sky and the small, colorful houses.  It's all so beautiful.

"So, did you grow up here?"

"Yeah, my parents and my brother Azure."

"I'd love to live here."

"You do live here," Champ points out.  I pause and realize that he's right.  In a way, I do live here.

"Is that your house?" I ask, pointing to the beautiful pale blue house in front of us.

"Yup, we're here."

"Mom, this is Calla.  Calla, this is my mom, Aquamarina."

"You can just call me Rina," Champ's mom says, smiling.  She's thin but has the most beautiful pale blue eyes and hair.  Definitely not the cozy woman I was picturing, but her eyes are kind and her voice is soft.

Champ leaves us to "get more acquainted with each other."

"So, you want to learn how to cook?"

I nod, taking out my phone.

"What's that?" Rina asks.

"Well, I thought I might jot a few things done.  You know, while you teach me."

"Oh.  Dear, cooking is about the experiences, not the notes.  You have to get hands on," she tells me as she slips the device out of my hand.

"Now what can you make?"

"Uh, let's see.  I can make toast.  And coffee.  And tea.  And anything in the microwave really.  Yeah, not much," I sigh.

"You must have had to tell the Dhavals what you could cook.  What did you tell them?"

"Well, I told them I could make stuffed turkey, omelettes, bakes angel food cake, and truffle torte," I admit.

"Hmmm, yes, I think I can teach you things like that.  It might be difficult since you're new to cooking but if you're willing to learn we can do it."

"Oh, of course.  I'm a very quick learner."

"Well, let's get started then."

She hands me a spoon from a pan that was sitting on the stove.

"Now Calla, taste it. What do you think is in the gravy?"

"Uh, gravy?"

"No, you need to think deeper.  Close your eyes.  Inhale the scent.  Taste it with all of your senses.  Really think about what you're tasting."

I obey and take another spoonful.  "Hmmm, meat and some sort of herb....," I guess.

"Very good!  Now try this."

We cook all day.  I learn how to cut an onion and how to peel and wash potatoes properly.  I learn how to create the gravy Rina had me try and I learn how to boil noodles correctly so that they're soft and moist.

On Sunday she teaches me how to make roasted vegetables and roast chicken.  As I pull it out of the over, the smell overwhelms my senses.  A week ago I wouldn't have known how to turn the over on.  Let alone cook something in it.  

That Sunday night, Rina, Champ, and I sit in the dining room and eat the chicken meal I cooked.  I feel a large sense of accomplishment that I rarely felt as a lawyer.  I sit and eat and hear stories about Myrtle and Fir and how they tried to adopt a dog but ended up giving it to a neighbor boy a few days later.  They also tell me about Rina's husband, Champ's dad, Jay Beryle.  He died of a heart attack a few years ago, but the memories of him are as well told as if he were here.

"So, next week I can teach you how to make lasagna and chili," Rina informs me excitedly.

"I can't take up all of your weekends!" I exclaim.

"Oh Calla, I enjoy this.  And you're not ready to graduate just yet.  What else do the Dhavals need you to do?  Laundry?  Ironing?"

"I guess both."

"I'm assuming you had to do it this past week.  How did you manage your way out of that one?"

"I hired a girl from the town to do it for me."

"Oh, you can let a sixteen year old do your laundry.  I'll teach you ironing right now," Rina states.  she gets up and plugs in the iron and sets it onto the ironing board that was leaning against the wall.

"No, what you would you have to iron?"

"Probably Mr. Dhaval's shirts."

"Male shirts... Champ, take off your shirt," she commands to her son, who is doing something to the fireplace.

"Mom!"  Champ laughs uncomfortable.

"Oh, don't 'mom' me.  We're all adults here.  Surely you're okay with taking your shirt off.  No one is embarrassed, are we?"

"Of course not," I say looking down at my shoes.

Rina is pointing out all of the parts of the iron to me.  I nod and glance briefly towards Champ.

"I'm waiting, Champ dear," Rina says impatiently.

Slowly, Champ slowly reaches for the bottom of his shirt and I see a flash of tanned skin (well, as tan as pink skin can get).  He throws his shirt to his mother as I quickly look down.

I can be mature about this.  He's just taking off his shirt, for Pete's sake.  It's not like he's stripping.

Just one peek...

Holy sweet mother of God.

"Calla!  You're scorching the shirt!"  Rina exclaims.

I quickly release the iron and the color rises to my cheeks.  I compose myself and finish the shirt.  Holding it up, I'm impressed.  Rina congratulates me and we hand it back to her son.

"Thanks, it looks wonderful," Champ compliments.

"You'll be able to iron a shirt behind your back in no time," Rina comments. "Well, I think our lesson is done for the night.  Would you like to bring Calla home, Champ?"

"Of course."

"Thank you so much, Rina.  I really appreciate this," I say to Rina before we leave.

"It's my pleasure.  I'll see you next weekend."

"Of course!"

I smile and turn towards the door.  I try not to make eye contact with Champ as we walk out of his car.  One look at his body and I, Calla Cohen, am in full crush mode.

I honestly though I was deeper than that.

Generation 02, Chapter 08: Try Again

It's morning and I'm standing in the kitchen.  No one is up and I can hear the sounds of birds chirping outside.  It's surreal.  Never did I imagine myself in such calmness.

I get tea ready for the Dhavals and walk upstairs with a tray.  I knock on their door and hear a rustling.  I knock again.  Why can't they hear me?

Finally, Mrtle's voice filters through the door.  "Come in."

I open the door and see Myrtle on the bed.  The sheets are messy and Myrtle looks disheveled like she hasn't combed her hair in a long time.  She's in a thin and revealing nightgown.  Were they just doing what I think they were doing?

My face is red and I turn to leave.  Mr. Dhaval comes out of hte master bathroom wearing nothing except very tight underwear.  I am extremely embarrassed.  "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were...," I stutter, not wanting to say it.

"It's alright, Calla.  Please, come in."

I awkwardly walk over to her and nearly trip over some of their clothes that are scattered carelessly on the floor.  As a way to make conversation, Myrtle asks me if I'll be doing the laundry and could I please change the sheets while I'm at it.

"Er, yes, of course.  I'll get right on that," I respond, as I set the tray on on nightstand.

"See you at breakfast," Mrs. Dhaval says as I turn to leave.

It took many attempts to cut the grapefruits that Dhavals wanted for breakfast and now I'm attempting to clean the clothes.  The washing machine is very high-tech looking and I click random buttons until it starts up.  I breathe a sigh of relief until the machine starts creaking and spluttering soap all over the place.

"Oh shit!  Dammit, stop you stupid thing!"  I panic and kick the machine.  It magically stops but now I have a broken washing machine and a wet and soapy floor.

I quickly wipe up the water as best I can and call a mechanic to come over.  He only works from 9-4 and it's only 8.  I desperately want him to come now before the Dhavals come downstairs and realize it's broken.  He agrees, but I have to pay him double his normal amount.  Fortunately, he comes and leaves without the Dhavals noticing.  With laundry off of my list, I skip ironing and go onto scrubbing the kitchen up.

While wiping off the counters, Myrtle comes into the room.  "Calla, Mr. Dhaval and I will be going out.  As always, if you need something, Champagne can help you."  Champagne walks in and she turns the conversation towards him.  "Calla's such a nice young woman, isn't she, Champagne?"

"Of course," he answers.  Turning towards me he says, "Hello again."

"Hi," I say.  It feels weird seeing him especially after the events of last night.

"Well, I'll be off," Myrtle announces and she whisks around and walks out of the door to her husband.

"I told my mom about you last night.  She's agreed to help you cook and she's willing to teach you cleaning also."

"I don't need cleaning advice," I instantly retort.

"Okay, well then, you get onto it."

He doesn't leave.  To prove to him that I can clean, I take a spray bottle and start spraying the side of the trash compactor with it.  I casually peek at the bottle and see the words DO NOT USE ON STAINLESS STEEL OR WOOD in large bold letters.  Well damn.

"Okay, see ya," Champ says, grinning.

I quit my work in the kitchen and call a local girl who will come and iron Mr. Dhaval's shirts for §2 per shirt. I give her an extra §10 to sew one the buttons that are missing off of two of the shirts.  Then I get to making the beds.  Unfortunately, the stupid sheets won't cooperate with me and I spend nearly an hour making the Dhaval's bed. 

I check the clothes in the dryer and in horror, I see that all of the clothes have been ruined.  So I spend nearly §1000 on replacements that will be shipped tomorrow.  I cross my fingers that the Dhavals will not notice the sudden change in their clothes.

After giving up on dusting and vacuuming, I work on the last thing on my list of things to do it: scrub the shower.  The tile is very stained and I have no idea what to use to get it off.  I fill a bucket with water and dump some dish soap into it.  Then I start scrubbing.  After an hour I'm sore and tired from not eating lunch and from scrubbing this stupid piece of filthy crap. 

I cry in frustration and accidentally whack the shower handle.  Water pours all over .

"SHIT!"  I yell.

Champ appears at the doorway.  "Have you tried using vinegar, baking soda, and ammonia?"

"Right, I knew that."

"No, you didn't."

"You're right," I sigh.  "I didn't.

There's silence until Champ speaks again.  "My mom could still give you cooking and cleaning help if you're willing to do that.  I think you would really benefit from that.  No offense," he adds as he starts to mop up the water.

I've never needed help in my life, but I really need help with this.  I genuinely need help.

"That'd be really nice," I finally say.

"Okay, great.  I'll let her know.  Again, she really enjoys a challenge.  And she can help you with any other household chores you might need to do."

I grow red.  It's embarrassing for me to need assistance.  But I do need it.  For this job.  And so that I don't go broke in the next two weeks.

"Have you had lunch yet?"  Champ asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"No, I've spent too much time doing this," I frown, wincing as my stomach growls.

"You should stop.  You've been working all day. There are some leftovers in the fridge so come eat.  You look famished."

Today was hard and busy.  I've never done that much physical work in my life.

...And I thought being a lawyer was difficult.