Chapter Thirty-Five
HOLTWe prepare the goat together. Sylvie gives me the instructions without consulting my phone recipe once. But we hit a snag after we put the goat on to simmer and I tell Sylvie I’m serving a salad as the side.
“Oh, Holt! I try to be open minded to other cultures after working so long in hotels,” she tells me, pressing her knuckles into her bottom lip. “I can accept the gays, and the Jewish who don’t know Jesus, and the Midwesterners who ask me if Hedonism is open on Sundays. But what I cannot accept is eating curry goat without a proper side.”
“Wait, salad isn’t a proper side?” I ask.
Sylvie looks at me like I have punched a puppy in the face right in front of her. “No, it is most definitely not,” she answers with the gravity of an oncologist giving a patient the
