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Ilan wasn’t going to leave the guinea pig in his truck alone for long, but he figured the little thing could handle fifteen minutes while he picked up carrots and some other essentials. Abi sounded frazzled when she called. He’d never heard her sound so scattered before. Certainly, she’d never sounded so desperate. Not last-resort desperate, though he was aware in this situation he was likely her last resort, but truly, honest-to-goodness, “I am at the end of my rope” desperate. He hoped everything was okay. But she’d said she had an important meeting this afternoon, and he remembered how hard Rachel used to prepare for those meetings, so he had a feeling things were just as tense for Abigail.
He grabbed a wire basket from the stand of baskets and made his way down an aisle. Rice flour, milk, a little half-pound bag of sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, and Abi probably had most of this stuff already, but he wasn’t going to take his chances.
When he was a kid and his mom was having a rotten day, his Nona would make her Sütla?. It was one of the perks of having your Nona live with you, he guessed. And since he was the oldest, he was the one who got to help her. It was an easy enough recipe, and he could whip it up without much thought. As an added bonus, it tasted great warm or cold, so it didn’t much matter if she was going to be gone for a while. He took his purchases to the counter and made small talk with the cashier, pulling a few bills from his pocket.
Usually, if he was stopping by this late in the afternoon, he stopped at the lunch counter and ordered a sandwich, he could tell George was confused, and he waved as he left, hoping the guy wouldn’t give him a hard time the next time he came through. It wasn’t that he was on a schedule or anything, but between wondering what was going on with Abi and worrying about the furry convalescent in his truck, he wasn’t in the mood for a tuna melt.
“What do you think, Cream, you figure your mom is going to be late tonight?” Ilan asked the guinea pig as he climbed into his truck. There was a faintwheekfrom the plastic carrying case, but he suspected that had more to do with the fact that the puffball could smell the carrots. “Sorry, buddy, you’re going to have to wait.”
The guinea pig was snuffling at the holes along the side of the cage and Ilan thought he saw the whole contraption shake. He chuckled.
“I gotta wash the vegetables, man. I don’t make the rules.”
The guinea pig made another discontented noise, and Ilan shrugged, putting the truck into gear.
“You just got sprung from the hospital, I’m not sending you back with botulism because I gave you unwashed fruit. Your mom’s sister would feed me to some fish.”
Silence from the guinea pig, Ilan laughed, turning the pickup onto the road to Abi’s house. He didn’t blame the thing for not knowing how to respond to that. Ilan still wasn’t sure how he felt about the threat of being fish food. He turned on the radio, the sound of 90’s alternative rock a welcome distraction. If Abi had any eggs or tomatoes maybe he’d make her a frittata to go with the Sütla?, breakfast for dinner was never a bad idea.
* * *
Abi walked into her house and her first thought was that it smelled like the Patisserie downtown.
Her next thought was that if her house smelled like that more often, she would spend considerably less on takeout.
She was so exhausted it hurt to keep her eyes open. She knew this was just her body reacting to the stress of the last few days and the way things had shaken out, but still. She could sleep for a week. She walked through the house to the kitchen, following the smells. She wasn’t surprised to see Ilan in the kitchen, he’d told her he would wait to give her the house keys back rather than just leave them in her mailbox. She was glad to see him, and not just because she really wanted to talk to him.
“Something smells amazing,” she said, letting her laptop bag, school bag, and purse slump into one of the seats at the kitchen table.
“I made you Sütla?,” Ilan said, he was spooning something from a pot on the stove into a bowl. “I wasn’t sure when you were going to get home, so I didn’t start the frittata yet, but I can do that now if you want.”
“You’re making frittata too?” Abi said, unsure if she was shocked because she was exhausted or because she couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked in her kitchen. “Also, what’s shootlack?”
“Sootlach,” he said, correcting her pronunciation as he placed the bowl in front of her. It wasn’t steaming hot, but it was warm enough that putting her hands on the bowl felt like heaven, “It’s like a rice pudding. My Nona used to make it.”
“Your Nona is my new favorite person,” Abi said, lifting the bowl to her face to inhale the heady scents of vanilla and cinnamon.
“She was pretty great,” Ilan said, glancing back at the ingredients he’d assembled on the counter.
“Oh, wow, I’m the worst,” Abi said, tearing her attention away from the bowl long enough to crane her head toward the sunporch. “How’s Cream doing?”
“He’s looking rough, but the vet says he’s doing a lot better. He’s not chewing bars, and his fur is growing back. He… looks pretty comical,” Ilan said, and Abi wondered if he’d spent much time laughing at the poor thing.
“Please, tell me you didn’t make fun of him. He’s had a rough time already.”
“I did not,” Ilan said, the look on his face saying that didn’t stop him from thinking things, though. “He seemed happy to be back with the other two. I gave them all some carrots to celebrate.”
“I had carrots?” Abi said, shocked.
“I stopped on the way home,” Ilan said, and Abi wanted to kiss him.
“You’re my favorite thing about today,” she said earnestly.
“Yeah?” Ilan looked pleased, and Abi felt something warm spread through her.
“Yeah,” she picked up her spoon and dipped it into the pudding mixture. “Are you sure you don’t want any of this?”
“Nah, I want to make the eggs,” he said, getting up. “How’d your meeting go?”
