Generation 02, Chapter 07: Epic Failure

I finally buck up the courage to call Blake.  I want to let him know what has happened.  I'm sure he can help.  Unfortunately, Myrtle's footsteps cause me to shove my phone back into the depths of my apron.

"How's the cooking going?"  She asks, assessing the scene.  It isn't much.  I haven't even touched the turkey or anything else in the grocery bags that are now sitting on the floor

"I'm getting to it," I manage a weak smile.

"Good.  I'll be going out so if you need anything, call Champagne."

I flip out my phone the moment she leaves.  Blake answers at the first ring.

"Calla, have you...," he tries to say.  It's obvious from the tone of his voice that he's not quite sure how to approach the subject and I feel like I can hear him breath a sigh of relief when I interrupt him.

"It's okay, Kar called earlier today."

"I'm so sorry.  Really, I am."

"It's okay.  Look, I was calling to see if I could stay at your house for a few days while I look for a new job.  I don't want to go to my apartment because you know who lives there."

"Look, I'd love to have you stay, but I need to check with Charna first."

"Sure, no problem."

Blake comes back after a minute.  "I'm sorry, Calla, but Charna's busy right now and we're working on renovations and I don't think...," he cuts off.

I finally realize that he doesn't want to be associated with some loser like me.

"You know, Blake.  I'm still the same person.  I thought you were my friend.  Now you're acting like you don't even care about me.  Sorry to have bothered you."

I slam the phone down after hearing him yell, "Wait!"  

Screw him, I think angrily.

Right after I end my call with Blake, my mom's caller ID comes up.

"Mom?"

"Sweetie, it's not true is it?"

"It is.  Your superstar daughter is now jobless," I sigh.

"Do you want to come here?  I've found an opening at a firm nearby here?  Your position would be very similar to the one at Gainsboro.  What do you say?"

I think of the long hours, the heavy workload, and the stress.

"You know what mom?  I don't think I'm ready for that.  Just, uh, let me figure something out."

"Okay," she says, uncertain.  "But just know that if you need something, your father and I will always be there for you."

"Thanks, mom.  Oh, before I go, how are Zoe and James?"

"They're good.  Zoe wants to video chat with you later tonight."

"Haha, okay, sounds good.  Maybe I'll try to find time for a visit later in the year when things are a bit more sorted out.  Love you, mom!  Say hi to dad for me."

After I hang up with her, I feel a bit better inside.  Mom always knows how to make me feel better, even when she doesn't know that she is.

I attempt to create the turkey by throwing dumping a bunch of random crap all over it and throwing it into the oven.  I don't really know what it says when it tells me to rub oil onto the turkey so I skip that as well as a few other steps.  It's okay to get creative, right?

I decide to add some vegetables too, so I set potatoes and leeks (what are those?) onto a tray and prepare them to go into the oven.  Then I throw all of the ingredients for the truffle torte into a bowl and attempt to follow the instructions on the recipe I found on my phone.

By 7, I'm still working in the kitchen.  The veggies went into the over 20 minute ago and I couldn't find a timer so I told myself I'd watch the clock.  I look over the recipe for the turkey and realize I've got the timing all mixed up and I don't have any gravy.  It'll be way past eight before dinner is actually ready.  The recipe says to cook the turkey at 325 and it'll be ready in 30 minutes so if I cook it on high heat, it'll go faster, right?  Anyway, I turn the over up as high as it can go and look up a gravy recipe while I'm at it.

Then I turn my attention to the truffle torte, which actually looks somewhat decent after I unmold it.  I poke it to make sure it's good but somehow it collapses into large chunks and doesn't look soft and light like it does in the picture.  This is a disaster.  I try to squish the cake pieces together but it just crumbles into a big pile of poorly mixed ingredients.

"Stupid cake.  Stupid stupid stupid!"  I yell as I throw a piece of the cake across the kitchen.  I'm not normally this aggressive but something about not being able to do a simple task (cooking) is pressing my buttons.

"What the hell is going on here?"  A deep voice asks.

It's Champ and he looks very surprised.  Gesturing to he mess in front of me, he asks, "I thought you were cooking some fancy dinner?  What the fuck is this?"

"I am.  It's just... damn, the gravy!"  I run over to the stove and the gravy is boiling over the edge and spilling onto the floor.  The pan is hot and I yank my hand away from it.  Okay, that was pretty stupid.  Too overwhelmed to do anything, I just stand there.

"Turn the stove down!"  Champ yells.  When I continue to not do anything, he rushes over and pulls the pan off of the burner.  "What the hell is that?  Brown water?"

"It's gravy.  For the turkey."  I say meekly.  Champ is quite scary when he's mad.  Especially since he has those huge muscles.

"You really need to watch that next time.  Wait, you put baking soda in the gravy?"

"I couldn't find the flour," I explain quietly.

"What are your running here-?"  His attention is diverted when he sniffs the air.  "Wait, what is that burning?"  He quickly opens the over and grabs the tray of vegetables, which have burnt to crispy, black mounds.

"What are these?"  He asks, staring incredulously at the blackened tray.

"They're roasted vegetables.  For the turkey," I manage to let out.

"You don't know shit about cooking!  If you're not a real housekeeper, I don't know what the fuck you're doing.  You know, the Dhavals may be strange, but they're nice people.  And I won't have them being exploited."

"No, please, give me a chance.  I'll admit, I don't know how to cook.  At all," I add, glancing at the mess around us.  "But I'm not trying to hurt them or take advantage of them.  I just came here from a... a mistake that I made.  A misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?"

"Yes, I was running away from a situation, I ended up here, the Dhavals thought I was applying to be their housekeeper, and I just needed a place to stay for the night so I figured I'd pretend for the morning and then leave as soon as I could.  I'm not trying to take their money, if that's what you're thinking."

Champ stares ahead, processing all I've told him.

"A bad relationship?  Were you running from that?"  He asks calmly.

"Yes, it was a bad relationship."  Which in a way, it sort of was.

"The Dhavals are good people.  You could have landed worse."

"Yes, but I can't cook."

"My mom can cook pretty well, she could teach you if you'd like."

"Thanks for the offer, but I should be leaving."

"Aw, that's too bad.  You make such delicious mac n cheese."

"Caterers," I explain.

"Ah, I wondered.  So, how are you going to get out of this?  The Dhavals are expecting a gourmet dinner in about two minutes."

"I think I have a plan.  But first I need to clean up their kitchen."

"I'm going to stay and help.  This I need to see."

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At eight thirty, Champ and I have cleaned up most of the mess in the kitchen.  He and I walk into the dining room and I clear my throat.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dhaval, I'm sorry but your kitchen does not meet my standards.  I wasn't able to work with your equipment.  I'm sorry but I'm going to have to resign."

"Resign?  No, don't leave!"  Mrs. Dhaval says nervously.  "Fir, tell her we can raise her pay.  Do something!"

"We'll order new equipment and you name your pay.  Whatever you want and we'll double it," Mr. Dhaval says.

"Well...," I say, shooting a glance at Champ, who just shrugs.

"Please, Calla.  We'd really like you to stay with us.  Anything you want.  We'll do.  Whatever your old salary was, we'll do better.  Please, we don't want you to go."

"Well...," I say again.

I think quickly.  I can't do anything a housekeeper can do.  But I can learn.

"I guess I can stay," I finally say.  The Dhavals look as though I've brought Christmas to them all.

Later that night, I text my mom and leave a message.  "It's okay, mom.  I've got a job now."