Imperfectpictures

5/21/2019

(IPFF) Episode Seven: Homecooked

Read Now

Episode Seven: Homecooked

Trigger warnings for mentions of death and drug use.

It was still dark outside when I woke up, but I had slept enough. I laid sleepily across the bed, watching the sunrise just as it peaked over the horizon. It was perfect. After my workout, I showered and got ready for our day ahead. There wasn't anything major planned work wise. I had a granola bar, an orange, and some coffee by myself outside by the pool and used this much needed alone time to catch up on the already thousands of pictures I had taken. I would be working on them for several days. That wasn't even counting the ones I was taking just for myself. I put those in a special file to work on later.

Frankly, I was going to get sick of Edward's stupidly handsome face at some point very soon, I was sure. But not yet. I had just figured out the perfect settings in Lightroom with his skin tone and hair.

It was just after noon when I finally saw him emerge from his bedroom. He was covered in sweat from working out in his little home gym, and he was shirtless. Edward was going to the kitchen to get himself a drink from the refrigerator. He didn't notice me at first outside, unfortunately. He stood in front of the fridge, drinking from a half gallon jug of milk with one hand on his hip. Slowly his eyes locked on me as he continued to drink and ever so slightly turn his head to the side like a confused puppy.

I wished I had my camera for it. I wasn't prepared. What a shame.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully after coming outside the glass door. Edward still had milk at the corners of his mouth.

“Afternoon,” I answered in return.

“Meh, close enough,” he waved his hand at me. “So, you said you were sick of eating out and wanted to cook real food, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I looked up at him curiously.

"Let me shower, and we can run to a proper market. I'll buy the groceries if you cook," he offered.

“Do you have time for that?”

"Yeah. I'm going to do a little recording and editing today, but it's all at home. I need a home-cooked meal. I haven't had one in ages. Like real proper food not from a box.”

“What do you want?” I asked. I wasn't too picky and didn't mind making him something he was craving.

Edward just shrugged.

“You're the chef. You can pick the menu. Carbs and cheese, right? I trust your tastes. Surprise me.”

“I guess we'll go to the store and we'll see what looks good,” I answered, closing my laptop to put away so I could get ready to leave.

While he was in the shower, I looked up the nearest grocery store and downloaded it's the app to look for coupons and see what was on sale. He didn't take that long, just combing back his reddish brown hair after his shower. He still seemed steamy fresh from the hot water. His musky scent radiated off of him liked a fresh baked good. It made me want to take a bite.

He bought himself a coffee and snack from the cafe inside the store, eating a sandwich as he walked around the with me.

First I grabbed some potatoes and a large box of nice looking baby portabella mushrooms that were on a good sale. Next, I picked out some shallots, tomatoes, and a large head of garlic, as well as a bag of baby spinach. I also picked out a small bunch of bananas for breakfast for me the rest of the time I was there. I could not survive on granola and oranges alone.

I also got a bag of mixed salad. I might as well try to pretend to be healthier. I had given the stupidly uncomfortable speech the night before, after all.

I picked out a couple of nice cheeses from the large fancy cheese section that was right next to the bakery. There I decided on a crunchy dense french bread. The store was upper scale with a massive variety of in-store baked goods. When I couldn't decide I just went basic.

“Do you like chicken?” I asked as we went through the meat section freezers. He was being surprisingly quiet that day. I worried he was getting sick of me already.

“Love chicken,” he said brightly before sipping on his coffee.

“White or dark meat?” I asked thoughtfully I looked through our choices while trying to steal glances in his direction.

“White, please.”

I picked out a package of split chicken breast with the ribs and skin still on. I selected a few things in the spice aisle and got some real unsalted butter as well as some more milk and heavy cream. Every once in a while he would add something to the cart that was absolute junk. It was better than eating out though.

I said nothing of course. I had been enough of a loudmouth asshole.

Edward wanted ice cream for dessert. We got hot fudge, whipped cream, and cherries to go along with an assortment of flavors that he picked out from the freezer section. He got six different pints. He even mixed brands.

When we got back to his place, he helped me put it all away before going to get set up for some videos. He was just making a couple that day. One was weird Asian sodas, and the other was weird Kit Kat flavors from Japan. A fan sent them in from Tokyo just so he could try them. He asked me to be in them. I agreed happily.

So, perhaps not sick of me quite yet hopefully.

I took pictures of him setting up, of the sodas and candy all neatly lined up by him. I took many photos of his lovely hands as he rearranged them for his own pictures. And I took photos of him acting as his own photographer again, too.

“Can I do something?” I asked as he arranged them again, unsatisfied. He seemed to be struggling a little. Eddie appeared to be deleting everything he was taking.

“Sure.”

I arranged the candies and took his camera. I changed a couple of settings and knelt down just a bit to get the right angle. I took several pictures, adjusting to do it from a different perspective. I showed him the results. "The wrappers are reflective so you have to adjust for the glare, and by arranging them in pairs with complementary colors it leads the eye through the picture."

“Oh, yes. That is better,” he agreed quietly, genuinely pleased. “I don't know much about color, obviously. Thanks.”

It was amazing to see him change and light up in front of the camera as he began to work. One moment he was bright and bubbly and then it was off like a switch. But, it was so much fun to play with him. Act with him. Be silly with him. We had too much sugar by the end, and I laughed so much I spurted soda out of my mouth at one point. Thankfully not a lot. He was purposely trying to get me to do it just like I had done with the milk though.

By the time we were done, it was getting later in the afternoon. Edward needed to work in his office editing, so I gave him some space. I went into his kitchen and began to prepare things for dinner since it would take a couple of hours. I turned on his large gas oven and seasoned my chicken so it could sit with the spices marinating into it for a few moments while I chopped and sliced my vegetables. Dicing the little potatoes, I put them onto boil while I was grating the cheeses.

It was very meditative in a way.

The potatoes were drained then tossed in a mixture of butter, olive oil, and seasonings before being coated in the mix of Asiago and Parmesan cheese. They went into an extremely hot oven to cook for almost an hour before being stirred and cooked some more. I started some olive oil and butter in a large skillet and waited until the butter stopped bubbling to add my chicken skin side down into the pan. It hissed and sizzled as it browned on both sides. I put it into the oven as well to finish.

It had been a long time since I had cooked for someone new. I was feeling a little nervous about whether or not he would enjoy what I was making. He seemed to love food in general though. We hadn't really discussed what I was making, but he approved of each ingredient. He did say to surprise him.

I sliced the bread and toasted it in the oven after brushing it with olive oil. When it came out, all warm and crunchy, I scrapped a half clove of garlic across the top. About the time I was finished with my bread the chicken was done cooking, and I pulled it from the oven to rest. I liked the smooth timing of it all, like a dance in the kitchen.

In the same skillet I cooked the chicken I added more butter, then cooked the shallots down until they were brown. Then I did the same to the mushrooms before adding the fresh diced tomatoes and garlic. Finally, I wilted the spinach into the mixture. Adding cream, wine, and the rest of grated cheese, I stirred until it came together into a lovely sauce. I seasoned it generously.

I decided to make our plates before I called him to eat. I arranged them neatly, slicing the chicken into strips and covering it in the cheese sauce. Beside that were a massive pile of potatoes, the salad, and a couple of pieces of toast.

“The food is ready,” I texted him, instead of bothering him, before putting the plates on his dining room table. Using the wine I cooked with, I poured us a large glass each to enjoy with our meals. Paper napkins would have to do because I couldn't find any others. His kitchen supplies sucked, to be honest.

"Oh, my god! It smells so amazing in here! I don't even know what you made, and I'm already thrilled to eat it!" He came bounding down the hall with excitement.

“Roasted chicken with a creamy Parmesan, spinach, and mushroom sauce served with crispy roasted Italian butter potatoes. And, garlic toast for the sauce. The glass of wine is the same kind that I put in the sauce, so it should pair well.”

“Goodness! That sounds magnificent!” Edward said cheerfully. It seemed genuine.

“Thank you!”

“No, thank you for cooking all of this! I'm so excited to shove all of this into my face.” He sat down at the table and took a large sip from the stemless wine glass.

He had only eaten a sandwich and a lot of sugar earlier and was eager to get started. First, he sliced up one of the pieces of chicken and rolled it in the sauce before putting the whole big piece in his mouth. He hummed in pleasure quietly. Next, he tried a potato, shoving a sizable chunk into his mouth in one single bite. I was a little worried he was going to choke.

“Oh, Jesus. It's so hot,” he huffed and puffed through the bite. “The middle is very hot. And soft. But the outside parts are crispy. And hot. It has a really nice texture though.”

“Are you reviewing my food?” I teased him, dipping my bread into the sauce. I had put extra sauce on mine. It was the best part in my opinion.

“Yes. I'm going to give it a ten out of ten. Could have been eleven if you added even more cheese somehow,” he joked playfully.

I laughed, “I could do that. Stuff it with cheese. Crust it in cheese. A cheesier cheese sauce.”

“That actually made my mouth water,” he said dryly, longingly looking off into the distance.

I laughed again at his silly seriousness.

He was clearly pleased that he was amusing me. Edward seemed to be having a good time. “I'd get so fat if I ate like this every meal.”

“This is not an everyday food. This is a trying to impress you food,” I admitted.

“Well, I am. Thoroughly so.”

“Imagine what I could do if your kitchen was properly supplied,” I told him after a sip of my wine. “My Thanksgivings are out of this world.”

“What do you mean by properly supplied?” He asked through a bite of salad.

“All the gadgets, the right tools. A pantry full of the basics. No offense, but your kitchen is kind of tragic compared to the rest of your house.”

“If I cooked, I'd definitely need to upgrade my kitchen. You know, it's just me though.”

He liked to say that a lot. He seemed to use it as an excuse.

“You should learn to cook. At least a few things. You love food so much. Just seems like a natural fit. You know, even if you do hire someone else to do it for you.”

“Maybe. You want to teach me?” He was being a little flirty with me.

“If we had more time I'd love to. We're going to be so busy the next few days though. You have the charity game tomorrow and then skydiving Saturday. I'm sure you'll be tired on Sunday,” I said a little sadly. “Come visit me in Queens. I'll teach you in my tiny kitchen. It is fully loaded.”

Edward didn't look at me as he asked, instead he was playing with his salad with his fork, “what would you teach me to cook?”

“Anything you wanted,” I offered.

“I'll make a list before I come to visit then,” he smiled playfully.

He ended up eating the rest of the potatoes and the sauce with the toast. There was a whole breast left, so I put it away for later. I had cleaned as I went so I only had to put the last dishes in the washer to finish cleaning.

He poured the last of the wine in our glasses, just a little each. “I thought you didn't like to indulge when you're working.”

"Oh," I stopped, flushed and embarrassed as I realized what I had done. "I don't normally, but I didn't even think about it. I just went into hostess mode like I would for my friends. I'm sorry."

He was so soft and sweet when he asked, “does that mean you think of me as a friend?”

His question stopped me. “I mean... yeah. I guess I do. You're so friendly and easy to be around. If that's okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be okay? I feel the same, to be honest. We've gotten tattoos together. It's kind of a serious step in any friendship. I think. I don't know. Perhaps,” he teased. Edward looked over at the clock, checking the time. It was just after eight in the evening. “I think I'll stop editing for the night. It's a busy day tomorrow.”

The days were going by so fast.

“Did you finish what you need to?” I asked him quietly.

“Oh, yeah. I make a lot more videos than I post, actually. Kind of save them up for a rainy day. You know, if I'm busy or sick. Or, just not in the mood. Or, traveling or working. So, I'm always way ahead when it comes to my video content for my channel. I just enjoy editing, too,” he explained to me.

I was curious. “How many fully made unposted videos do you have right now?”

“About forty.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed, truly shocked. “That's so many. How often do you post online?”

“Daily. I know it sounds like a lot but most of them are just little videos. Quick ones I did alone in the house. Lots of food ones and lists. Video games playthroughs. The big ones I film with Seth and Tyler go up pretty quickly usually. Within the month. But, I also film ahead for holidays, too.”

“I guess that makes sense. Do you ever make a video you don't post period?”

"Mm, they generally get posted. If I don't think it's amazing, I throw up two a day up, one as a bonus episode. I also have a private video diary, but I don't ever show that to anyone, and I don't intend to," he explained. "It's just for me."

“My pictures are my diary,” I said softly, pensively. “I don't mind showing people though. They don't understand the memories behind them.”

“I can see that,” he said, his voice gentle, quiet. He had such large expressive eyes. His eyelashes were long and curled back slightly. Edward's cheeks were a little pink, a natural flush against his light skin. I was a light olive skinned girl, but he made me feel downright dark.

I caught myself looking at his face for a second too long. Shaking myself free, I finished my glass of wine.

“So, would you like to have ice cream sundaes by the pool with me?” He asked charmingly.

“That sounds like an extremely effective pickup line,” I said dryly. Edward took a moment for it to sink in what I said and he laughed.

“You are not wrong.”

“Handsome Youtuber used obscene wealth and sugar. It was super effective,” I teased him. I hoped he understood my stupid Pokemon reference.

“No, it's not! I've been single for bloody months,” he complained as he got up to go into the kitchen. He pulled the ice cream out and placed it on the counter. “I guess if I just wanted a shag, it would be one thing but I'm not comfortable with it. I've not even been on a proper date in months.” He retrieved the whipped cream and cherries. “What would you like in yours?”

“Fix it however you like, but with extra cherries,” I answered, picking up my camera to take pictures of him as he made us large bowls. “How long has it been, if I may ask?”

“I had a blind date to a Fourth of July party at a work friend's place. It was dreadful. I've met a bag of rocks who was a better conversation partner,” he shook his head in annoyance. “No personality.”

He brought the bowls to the table, and I photographed the mess. He made us ice cream like an eight-year-old left who was alone for the first time.

“What about you? Last date?” Eddie asked.

“I've not dated since my husband passed,” I kind of half shrugged. “Dating is tough everywhere, I guess.”

This seemed to make him a little more serious. Edward nodded his head before taking a bite. He seemed to be considering something. “What was his name? Your husband? If I may ask.”

“Aiden Levi Zucker.” I rarely said his name out loud anymore. “Doctor, actually. Dr. Zucker.”

“You didn't take his last name,” he stated.

"No, I was kind of using my name professionally by then. Working and in school and it would have been so hard to change everything. I didn't mind his name. But I kinda think he liked it, to appear more liberal to his friends in that sense. He was a professor of anthropology," I said as I took my first bite of ice cream. It was good. I ate a cherry as I thought about my dead husband and sighed. It all seemed so abstract and almost far away. It was a story I had told myself too many times, especially alone at night. "His friends could be such judgemental assholes. I had a thicker accent then, and they thought I was stupid trash. They weren't afraid to let me know in their own special ways. And, they probably thought I was a gold digger, too. Not that Aiden would have told me if they thought that."

Edward seemed offended for me. “Just because of your accent?”

“I was much younger than him too, but I don't know. Well, people are just terrible sometimes,” I ate another cherry. “My friends all loved him, though. He was a good man.”

He was quiet for a few moments while he ate. “What's your full name? I don't know your middle name,” he finally asked. “Mine is Anthony, by the way. Edward Anthony Cullen.”

“Isabella Marie Swan.” I took a bite of caramel ice cream. It was just the slightest bit salty.

He cocked his head to the side slightly. “Oh... I thought you were just joking before with the beauty queen bit. Are you named after anyone? It’s a pretty name.”

“I don’t know. It's a really common name, especially now. My mom picked it out. I don't know if I am or not. Never got to ask her. I'd love to ask her a whole lot of things actually. Mainly like what the fuck, but eh. That's life, I guess. Wholly unsatisfying with its lack of answers,” I bemoaned bitingly. It wasn't directed towards him though.

He considered his words carefully. “What happened to your mom? You said she died when you were five. Was she sick?”

“Oh, um. No. Not exactly. She was an addict. She overdosed on heroin while driving and rammed into a power pole at fifty miles an hour. She shot up right before she started driving. Did it in a Sonic parking lot and rammed into the pole about fifty feet away.”

The scene played like a movie in my head, but I knew it was just the memory that I created for it in my brain. I was probably too hurt to actually remember anything.

The concept of my mother had moved beyond the abstract and into the realms of fairy tales. People rarely realize how brutal those stories actually were. They generally ended with blood, too.

Edward legitimately gasped in horror. “Jesus! I'm...That just... sucks. My god! Oh no. How terrible. I am so sorry,” he was almost speechless and sputtering his words.

I leaned over and pointed to my cheek so he could see the mark, tracing the scar with my middle finger. "It's much fainter than it used to be, but that's how I got this," I moved my finger over my lip across my cheek as it curved up to my hair. "A no parking sign went into my face. I broke several bones, too. Went through the glass. I was in the hospital in a medically induced coma for a week. Good times.”

"Oh, no. And, you were just five? You were in the car, though? She took drugs with you and drove while high? I know I smoke weed, but I'd never drive ever, let alone with my little helpless daughter in the car. I am... Gah. I don't even know. Angry and sad. I want to go back to give little… well smaller, you a hug. You've lost more people before you were even a teenager than I have in my entire life. Even my grandparents are still alive and in good health. One of them moved to Australia to be closer to my parents and the other fucked off to Ireland to retire just recently.”

“Where are your parents and grandparents from originally again?” I asked.

“Father's Scottish and my Mum's English. They met at Uni. They moved down under for my mom's work. She was a lawyer and now a retired judge,” he explained to me.

“Impressive.”

“Yeah, but it means I got away with literally fucking nothing growing up.”

I laughed, "I couldn't either, but that's because my grandmother was a strict Catholic who made me go to church several times a week. She filled every second of every day with something to keep me busy. Idle hands are the devil's playground, you know. Too busy to be too bad."

“I didn't realize you were Catholic.”

“I'm not anymore. I was just raised in the church. And, went to a Catholic school. And, worked at a church for four years. But I haven't been to church in years now. I've been to temple more recently than that.”

“Temple?” He seemed confused.

“Aiden was Jewish. We had a little Jewish wedding where you stomp on the glass and everything. I went to my niece's Bat Mitzvah about a month ago. Because there is nothing more adult than thirty thirteen-year-old girls trying to figure out how to dance to a DJ who stopped listening to music in the early 2000s surrounded by your ancient relatives.”

Edward chuckled, “I don't know, sounds fun.”

"It was. Great food, too." I pushed my ice cream over to him. I had eaten all the cherries and a few bites of everything else, but I was getting very full at that point. He had finished his and started digging into mine right away. He wasn't going to waste it.

“So, are you Jewish then?”

"Atheist, actually. So was he, but we went for his mother. It made her happy, and he was all about his family. Which was one of the reasons I loved him so much."

"I miss my family," he admitted to me quietly. "I'm the youngest of five. I'm the only boy, too. I'm really close to my sisters. I talk to them every day through text practically. I miss seeing them almost every day though. And, my nieces. I've got seven nieces, and I used to babysit them all. Well, one of them was only born very recently. That's the last time I saw them. When the new baby, Ava, was born. So, two months ago. My parents have been driving the new mother up the wall," Edward smiled as he thought of the people he loved. It was extremely sweet.

"Wow, seven," I replied. "I just have the one technically. She was a sweetie though. I used to babysit her as well. I'm glad my in-laws let me hang around, but I've always felt out of place, even if they've only ever been kind to me."

“My sisters would love you.” He scooped up the last of the hot fudge in my bowl with his spoon. “They'd fawn over your pretty hair and your pictures. I actually bought one of them, and my mom, one of your prints as a gift. From your website. Before you came here. For their birthdays coming up.”

“Oh! That's so nice...” I drew out, not sure what else to say. I always felt awkward selling stuff. “I have pretty hair?”

"Yeah. Those pretty ringlets of yours. They'd want to know how you do it. Ask for all your magical secrets. All their hair is board straight, and I don't know how many hours of their lives they've wasted trying to make it curly," he chuckled warmly.

"I wash and condition my hair and then comb it... and then let it dry into whatever ungodly mess it feels like creating that day. Sometimes it's ringlets, sometimes it's a fro. It's a chance game. Sometimes I blow dry and straighten it, but I didn't bring any of that with me. I forgot them. Photographers aren't really supposed to be the ones being looked at anyway."

“Fair enough,” Edward nodded.

“When will you see them again? Your family?”

"February, sadly. Around Valentine's sometime. Everyone is coming together. My parents are going on some kind of crazy month-long cruise at Christmas, and I work pretty solid until then anyway. It's the longest I've been away from them."

“A month-long cruise? That is too long on a boat.”

“I agree, but it is their retirement money they're wasting,” he answered as he got up from the table with the bowls. He rinsed them clean but left them in the sink since the washer was still running. “Thank you for all the amazing food and the company tonight. And, the videos earlier, too.”

"I had a great time, and I'm glad you enjoyed the meal," I told him honestly.

“I think I'm going to have a smoke. Would you like to join me?” He offered.

I had opened myself up enough for one night and decided to excuse myself to my room.
I edited pictures until I couldn't see straight.