Page 69 of Speechless

“Yeah, it’s a Jewish thing. My mom always made it for me when I wasn’t feeling well. I must be having some sort of Pavlovian response.”

“Graham,are you—oh, all of you are here. Does anyone know where a Jewish Deli is? Lucy wants matzo ball soup.”

“What’s a Jewish deli?” Graham asks.

Well, we’re equally clueless.

“I think I’ve been to one in Westwood,” Preston says. “No idea if they have soup though. Want me to call Adamma?”

“I googled it. It looks like chicken soup with really big croutons.” Jayce shoves his phone in my face. “Here’s a recipe—let’s just make it for her.”

The ingredients look relatively simple but none of us know how to cook.

I raise a brow at him. “Erm, alright. Who’s up for helping out? We’ll need to go to the store and—maybe we can find a YouTube video or something?”

We all pile into the Range Rover and head to Whole Foods. Luckily when we get there someone immediately offers to help us. We must look ridiculous, but I’m thankful because I doubt we would have ever been able to find matzo meal on our own. And once we’re back at the house, we divide and conquer.

Everyone seems scared of the major task at hand: the balls. I’ve got no clue what they’re supposed to look like but I’ve apparently drawn the short straw so I watch a few videos and get to work. Preston and Jayce start chopping vegetables, something I honestly didn’t think they’d be able to do. Apparently, Lucy’s been teaching them. And Graham is, well, Graham isn’t really providing any help at all. He’s just sitting at the island cheering us on, or maybe mocking us. Better than nothing, I guess.

For a minute I thought I had the hang of it. In retrospect, rolling matzo balls is nothing like biscuit dough. I can’t seem to get a single ball-shaped anything, and most of the mixture is stuck to my hands. I’m very glad we thought ahead and bought about three times the amount of ingredients we needed. By the second batch, I’m finally making a bit of headway.

“Henry, you did it! They look like balls!” Preston beams with pride and I’m not sure if I should feel offended. He obviously had little faith in me.

“Okay, so this says they should double in size and then they’re done. They just grow? In the pot?” Jayce looks like he’s about to witness a magic show but soon enough all three of our heads are hovering over the stove waiting for a miracle to occur. “Does anyone know a Jewish prayer?”

“Guys, she’s awake.”Graham has been slyly checking in on Lucy every fifteen minutes. “It’s go time.”

We have all had a taste and were pleasantly surprised. The fluffy balls are actually quite enjoyable, and I made sure they were well salted for Lucy. Even so, I’m a nervous wreck as I make my way to her room.

“Hey Luce, you still hungry? I hope this tastes okay for you.”

She sits up further and looks at me incredulously. “You cooked?”

“We all did—don’t give Henry all the credit.”

“Oh, come on Jayce, he made the balls. You were too scared.” Preston interrupts and I can’t help but enjoy Jayce’s frown.

“Guys, this is awesome. I can’t believe you cooked for me. I’m so excited to try it.”

I convince HAAAM to leave us for a moment and help Lucy get situated so she can eat without burning herself.

Lucy grins. “You’re kind of amazing, you know.” Her eyes find mine and for a moment all I can think about is kissing her. I bring a spoonful of broth to her lips instead.

She coughs. Fuck.

“That bad?”

“No! It’s really good actually. I just wasn’t expecting that much salt, especially after the sugar diet you put me on.” We share a quiet chuckle. “This is perfect. I can’t believe you made it.” She pauses and frowns at me. “I, umm . . . I—”

“Just enjoy the soup, okay? I’m going to go clean up and leave you be, but I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” I lightly kiss the top of her head, I can’t help myself.

“Wait. I haven’t tried the matzo balls yet.”

Oh lord, I’m positive they won’t be up to the standard of her mum’s cooking. I carefully watch her take a large bite.

“Well? What’s the verdict? Keep in mind it was my first time. It was much more difficult than rolling the biscuit dough.” She takes a second bite while I ramble on, which must mean it’s not completely horrible.

“Henry, I’m impressed. This is really good! And your balls are the perfect size this time.” She winks while my mouth hangs open. I should walk away but . . .

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