Party of Four

Cravings - Riley

I woke to the smell of steak cooking, which was unusual. I put on my glasses and checked the time on my phone. Cole should’ve already been at work a couple of hours ago. Besides, when he made breakfast, it didn’t normally include steak.

When Nica woke up this late, she’d usually just make herself a sandwich or soup. She wasn’t really a “cook for lunch” kind of person, unless it involved a microwave.

I came downstairs and made my way into the kitchen scratching the back of my head. “What are you making?” I asked, watching Nica fry some sliced steak and peppers while I started the coffee maker.

“Tacos.”

She moved away from the stove top to get a bowl out of the cabinet. My brows pulled together as I watched her mix together sour cream and hot sauce. “What kind of tacos?” I asked, slightly concerned.

She shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m just…doing things.” She put away the sour cream and hot sauce, then took out the salsa verde. I was only slightly relieved that she didn’t mix that in too. Instead, she removed the steak and peppers from the pan, dumping them into her hot sauce/sour cream mixture.

I watched, unable to hide the mix of concern and disgust that I felt as she coated the steak and peppers before filling her tortillas. Nica added cheese and salsa verde, and I couldn’t avoid saying, “I’ve never seen anyone eat tacos like that.”

She shrugged, “It’s what the baby wants. Nothing’s been spicy enough. Nothing has satisfied that need.”

I continued to scowl, unable to change my expression as she took her first bite. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, I tried to focus on making my coffee.

“Do you want one?” Nica offered in between bites.

“No,” I shook my head, trying not to sound harsh. “You enjoy your concoction, I will find something else to eat,” I reassured her as nicely as I could. I’d heard of people having strange pregnancy cravings, but somehow it didn’t occur to me that I would witness it with Nica. I didn’t think it would get worse than her adding hot sauce and chili flakes to her pasta at work.

Though Cole had said he thought he saw her mix hot sauce into some mashed potatoes a few days before…

Nica chewed thoughtfully, clearly enjoying her meal while added cream and sugar to my coffee. Her eyes were half-closed in a picture of absolute satisfaction that completely contradicted the absurdity of what she’d created. The hot sauce, sour cream, and steak juice was already starting to seep out of the bottom of her tortilla, threatening to drip.

“It’s really good, Rye,” she insisted. “Seriously. The tang from the sour cream cuts through the heat but not to where the hot sauce doesn’t still have any heat. The steak actually tastes like something.”

I took a slow, deep sip of my coffee. The familiar warmth was grounding in comparison to the culinary chaos that was happening at the other end of the counter. “Tastes like something…other than steak?” I countered dryly, my brow arched. “When did this…intense need for heat start?” I asked, unsure if I would regret it.

She paused, taking a moment to wipe a smear of orange-pink sauce from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t know…a couple of weeks ago. It started with a little bit of chili flakes on the alfredo at work. Now, if I don’t feel like my sinuses are clearing, it’s not worth eating. She took another enormous bite, chewing and swallowing before adding, “Cole’s been complaining too. He said I’m making everything inedible.”

I leaned against the counter, crossing my ankles while I watched her. I was filled with that familiar sense of affection and exasperation. This was just part of our life now. “He told me about the mashed potatoes. Did you really add sriracha?”

“Only a dollop!” Nica defended, though a mischievous, guilty grin pulled at her lips before she took another bite. “Look, I know it’s weird, but honestly, it’s actually really good. It’s like a hit of adrenaline.” She tapped her rounded belly with a finger, “I guess someone is going to have a really strong palette.”

I finally managed a reluctant smile. It was hard to stay disgusted when she was so genuinely, joyously fulfilled. “Well if this is what the next few months are going to look like, we might have to buy shares in a local hot sauce company.”

She blushed, finishing one taco and started on the next one.

I set my mug down on the counter and crossed the kitchen to get a breakfast burrito out of the freezer to throw in the microwave. Then moved to Nica’s side. “You are going to have to brush your teeth before I kiss you after eating this though.” I punctuated my words with a kiss to her temple instead of what would’ve been our normal good morning kiss. Her blush deepened, her cheeks changing from pink to red.

“You’re missing out,” she insisted.

After a while we dressed for work, me in my server uniform, and Nica in a pair of leggings and an old faded black tee I was pretty sure she snagged from Cole’s laundry basket. Working back of house, she didn’t have to adhere to the stricter dress code that front of house had. Not that I thought anyone would complain about her wearing leggings while pregnant anyways.

The drive to work was relatively silent. Nica always preferred to sing along to the radio, uninterested in conversation. I didn’t mind, I enjoyed listening to her sing. Besides, now that we lived together, we had more than enough time for conversation at home.

We pulled in about twenty minutes before our shift to find Cole already on break, hanging out in our spot by the bushes. Nica and I walked over, and he immediately put his cigarette out. She wasn’t as sensitive to smells anymore, but we didn’t want to risk it. Besides, she’d managed to give up vaping and weed pretty easily early in the pregnancy. We didn’t want her to have to breathe in second-hand smoke of any kind.

“Is that my shirt?” Cole asked as we sat down. We didn’t explicitly have assigned seats in the bushes, but we did have our spots that we seemed to prefer. Cole up against the half wall on a cinder block, Nica on the shorter, wider crate up against the tree, and me across from her on a regular milk crate. This put Cole in between us.

“No,” Nica answered, her brows pulling together as she shook her head.

He arched an eyebrow as he studied her. “My favorite sleep shirt looks exactly like that, and I haven’t seen it in a couple of weeks.”

She shrugged, “Weird.”

Before Cole could argue or insist that it was in fact his shirt, we were joined by Jay, who made his presence known with a series of bird calls.

“You working tonight?” I asked as he took a seat in the leaves facing Cole.

He shook his head, “Nah, I’m just waiting for Mallory to get here before I leave.”

“How sweet,” I teased, as if he didn’t have ample ammunition to tease me back with now.

He just smiled and shrugged, sliding his glasses up his nose.

“Has it been busy today?” Nica asked.

“No,” Jay shook his head. “They’re introducing a new dish to the menu though. It goes live next week.”

“Really?” Her brows arched, intrigued.

“Yeah, it’s a…a uh…Caribbean isn’t right…”

“Calabrian,” Cole filled in for him. “It’s a creamy sauce and it’s really hot.”

My stomach churned at the thought after seeing Nica’s taco monstrosity earlier today. She, however, perked up. “Really?”

Cole nodded. “You can get it with steak or shrimp, or both. We made a couple of them earlier today for the lunch shift, so we’ll probably make more tonight for the dinner crew.”

Nica leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “How hot are we talking? Are we using actual peppers? Or is it more of a chili flake?”

Cole sighed, adjusting his glasses as he ran a hand through his beard. “It’s a house-made sauce. It has cream, tomatoes, and cheese added to it. It definitely has kick though. Don’t tell me you’re thinking about eating it.”

“I’m not thinking about it, I’m planning to,” she corrected, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “The tacos this morning were great, but they didn’t last.”

Jay, ever the outside observer, gave us a wide-eyed look. “You’re not gonna start seasoning the food on the line with your cravings are you?” he asked. “If you do, I feel bad for the customers.” Then he leaned in conspiratorially and told us, “The other day Layla told Mallory she saw Nica adding cayenne pepper to some macaroni.”

“She better not,” Cole shot a warning stare towards Nica, though she was already ignoring him. “Nica, the sheer volume of capsaicin in that sauce is probably borderline toxic for a normal human being. You’re pregnant. You can’t just-“

“I can do whatever the gremlin tells me to do,” she interrupted, smiling cheerily as she patted the top of her belly. “She craves the fire. She demands the spice.”

Jay stood up, adjusting his glasses again, “Well I’m gonna go see Mallory before I leave.” He stepped back through the bushes, headed for the blue Subaru that had just pulled in.

Cole sighed, hanging his head. “We need to talk to her doctor about this,” he murmured, leaning towards me. “Seriously. I’m starting to worry about her stomach lining.”

Nica had straightened again, peering over the tops of the bushes to see if the back door was open. It was.

“Come on,” I sighed as I stood. “Let’s go make some money. Nica, you stay away from the Calabrian death-sauce.”

Nica stood, running her hands over Cole’s stolen shirt before she stretched. “No promises,” she smiled, stepping through the bushes.

We followed after her. I would be on the front lines dealing with customers while they were stuck in the culinary furnace, dealing with the actual food. And, apparently, a terrifyingly spicy new menu item that was probably destined to become Nica’s favorite new snack.