“In a pot,” is the answer she gives as she shoos me away. “Go and tell me how it turns out. Oh, and Lucy.” I turn around once more to look at her. “Come back tomorrow evening, and I’ll give you a real recipe. We can start with japchae. No more of that instant stuff.” I smile and thank her as I head out the door to the cafe.
Fuck you, Marcus, is all I think as I drive.
Priya’s waiting for me when I arrive and we head inside, ready to get started. “Let’s get to work,” she says as she cracks her knuckles and looks over all the ingredients we have.
“I’m thinking,” I tell her as I section out our ingredients and grab the measuring spoons and cups, “that we use thebase of our last recipe but update it to add the maple and pecan—and browned butter,” I add, remembering what Mrs. Kim had suggested.
“Sure.” Pri clips her bangs out of her face and pulls out a pan. “We need to toast these pecans too.”
As we get to work, she nudges me with her hip and asks, “How’s it going with the mystery boy?”
I can’t stop the blush that creeps across my cheeks at even the slightest mention of Dylan.
“Oh, fine,” I respond, a little too casually.
“Bullshit,” she responds coyly as she pours the pecans into the frying pan and adds a touch of butter and cinnamon. “You have a perma-smile on your face, and Ineverhear from you on the weekends.” She turns her brown eyes to me. “Is it getting serious?”
That question causes my face to fall, and she catches it instantly, drawing her eyebrows together. “Is something wrong?”
I try to busy myself by getting a second pan ready to brown the butter like Mrs. Kim instructed, taking my phone out and looking up how the hell I even brown butter. Finally, as I push the melting butter around with a spatula, I respond. “He…” What am I even going to say here?He’s from the past and is about to die saving two kids.Nope. “He’s getting transferred at work in a month.” Okay, kind of true.
“Shit, really?” She rubs my shoulder, and I rest my head on hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” is all I can respond with.
“Have you talked to him about it? How far is he going? Can you make it work?” I love my optimistic friend so dearly. Of course Priya would want to find a way to fight for love and makeit work.
If only it were that simple.
“I mean, not really. It’s so early in our relationship—or whatever it is—and he’s going… uh, across the country to be a deep-sea fisherman. He’ll be super off grid and won’t be able to text…” Hopefully, that’s a believable lie. “I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“Fuck.” She squeezes my shoulder. “But you haven’t talked about it?” Removing the roasted pecans from the pan, she sets them aside to cool until we’re ready for them. I keep moving the butter around in the pan, watching as the colour deepens, letting me know it’s close to being “browned.” She takes my silence as my answer. “You’ve got to communicate with him. You guys need to talk?—”
“I don’t want toneedhim, okay.” I turn to her with tears welling in my eyes. “I’m trying to prove I can do everything myself out here, and I’m scared that if I need him as much as I do, it means I’m a fraud and can’t actually survive on my own. He’s so smart and helps me so much, and I’m scared that when he leaves, I won’t be able to function. That I’ll fail like my ex said I would.”
“Lucy.” She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a tight hug. “Youaredoing it on your own. Just because you accept help or are with someone, it doesn’t take away from that.Youcame out here all on your own. You wanted to change. You got a job, an apartment, and you’ve found your stride at work and have beencrushingit and doing your damn best. Don’t ever forget that. If you meet someone and he lifts you up and makes you feel even stronger, then that isgood. It’s good, Lucy. Not weak.”
“But he’s leaving,” I cry.He’s dying, and there’s nothing I can do to save him.
“Talk. To. Him,” she repeats. “If he’s the guy you say heis, he’ll listen. Maybe you two can figure something out. You both need to fight for this if it’s worth saving.”
I wipe my nose and sniffle. “Ithink it’s worth saving.”
“Then try.”
“Okay.” I keep holding on to her, not ready to let go of my friend yet.
“I’m proud of you,” she adds, and my heart swells. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”
That gets a laugh out of me, and I step back. “Okay, Kris Jenner, that’s enough.”
We both chuckle and get back to making our creamer. After a few tries, we finally nail the recipe, and it tastes amazing in the end. The maple syrup and toasted pecan shine through, while the cinnamon adds a soft, spicy warmth. Mrs. Kim’s suggestion of the browned butter is the real rock star, though, adding an extra-nutty flavour and making it even creamier.
“I think I’m going to finally win Sarah over with this one,” I say to Priya as we clink our coffees, savouring the delicious drink.
“That’d be the day,” she laughs.
We stay up far too late that night, drinking coffee, making more creamer, and chatting about everything and nothing all at the same time. Being with her is a nice reminder that I have good people in my life. My chest tightens, thinking about how I’ll need her even more in a month if I can’t figure out how to save Dylan.
