III
870 Words
IIIWE DROVE PRETTY MUCH straight through. I don't know how Jean does all that driving. But I do understand why he invested in that up-scaled bucket seat with the air suspension. The other big investment was on the power steering, a smooth transmission, and what must be an endless supply of patience.
Hami had been busy in the back for the last hour, rearranging things, and setting up some dishes so she'd be ready to start cooking when we stopped. I tried to see what she was working on, but she wouldn't have it. Just shushed me out of the back and told me to find something else to do.
Like I had any choice. No matter how big this van was, it got cramped real quick. "Hey Hami, can I read one of your books?"
"As long as you don't start wagging your jaw at me about 'mushy' romance." And punctuated that with some clattering steel pans.
I found some thick novel, I think it was Gaskell's "North and South" - another dry classic, but when I stretched out on that hard cushion called a bus seat, I lost myself for the next hour or so. She was right about the mush in there. But I didn't see any Doc Savage or L'Amour in her bag, so this beggar couldn't be choosy. (Still, not even a Doyle-Holmes collection?)
Finally we got to a lot outside a one-story long hospice we were going to work outside of. It was getting dark, but I could see some yellow tapes strung around the place and white placards with red letting posted on poles. I think I read “Quarantine” somewhere in all that.
Once we pulled up, Jean let me be first out the door. And the exotic urban smells almost floored me. Exhaust fumes and hot asphalt, all mixed in a humid soup that made it hard to breathe.
Jean had a few words with Hami, then came outside himself. "I've got to go check in, or try to, anyway. Hami says her 'miracle' will be ready in 15 minutes or so. Why don't you get one of the folding tables out with a couple of chairs and pull out the awning?"
I nodded, he turned and left. I didn't feel like saying much, and that was fine with him. Moving around outside felt better than sitting and waiting. I knew where he stowed everything from working his truck last summer. Getting everything set up before Hami was ready to bring out her dishes was quick. I pulled out a checkered plastic table cover in lieu of scrubbing everything down in the darkening twilight. Although the outside lights gave enough to eat by, the anti-bug yellow glow made sure you identified all your food by smell.
And I didn't know if "miracle" was Jean's term or Hami's, but some breezes through the open windows of the van brought me smells that made me realize how long it was since I'd eaten.
Jean reappeared when Hami got the rest of the pots and hot pads down, taking several trips until I just told her to slide the screens aside and I'd help her. Her last trip was with a covered desert dish that was beading with condensation.
Jean had brought drinks for us. Three tall iced coffees from some local quick-stop convenience store.
We all sat, held hands, and bowed our heads for a moment. Then we dug in, coordinating taking a helping with being able to pass it to the next open hot pad. Hami took a few of the empty pans off, pushing them back through the van's windows and closing the screens behind them.
We were all tired, the food was great, and so the conversation didn't really start until we finished.
"Where did you learn to cook?" I asked.
Hami frowned. "I'm supposed to take that as a compliment, since you cleaned your plate." Statement of fact.
"Yea, I mean, sorry. I really wanted to find out if it was a book or lessons from your mother or grandmother or what. Like I wouldn't mind learning if I could." Of course all that came out of my mouth clumsy, backhanded.
Jean and Hami looked at each other. Jean just shrugged. She handed him the dessert dish.
"Well, see if you still think so after this last one."
And yes, I did, after having a little bit of heaven melt down my throat.
"I thought you had to bake cheesecake."
"Thoughts can be deceiving," Hami replied, with a wry smile.
I turned to Jean, "OK, now that you have your cook, what am I supposed to do this trip?"
Jean just smiled and looked at the two of us. "You're going to be the best summer cook team I've ever had. Hami is great, and that's no doubt, but you're the fastest short order grill cook I've ever seen. And believe it when I tell you that it's going to get fast around here. Almost all the local restaurants have closed due to the outbreak. So they are bringing in special volunteer teams."
"Outbreak?" Hami and I both spoke at once.
Jean just smiled broader. "Yes, it's just what you're thinking. No, we aren't at risk. When is the last time either of you even heard of any flu going around either of our little towns?"
We both sat back and started piecing it together.
- Writer
