Page 108 of Before You
“Your dad called me last night, come cook with me in this beautiful kitchen going to waste,” he says, changing directions to head toward the state of the art kitchen we barely use. I’d rather he explain why my dad called him, but I recognize I’m not going to get my way in this, and it’s easier to follow Uncle Dean into the kitchen.
“If you want it to be edible, I suggest you have me do all the washing and drying while you cook,” I say, spinning the ring on my thumb, trying to avoid picking at my cuticles since I tore them to pieces during the meetings yesterday.
“Everyone should be able to cook at least one meal,” he says, and I snort.
“You’ve met my mother, right?”
“Except her. It’s a good thing she married your father, or I’m afraid she would have starved by now,” Uncle Dean says, and he’s not wrong. “Lucky for you, Hayes keeps this kitchen pretty well stocked, and we have all the ingredients we’ll need.”
It’s nice he’s trying to give Dad credit, but we both know there’s a housekeeper who comes by twice a week. The first time she stops by, she drops off groceries and tidies up. The second trip, she donates whatever hasn’t been used to a local shelter for survivors of domestic violence.
“What are we making?”
“An Alfredo sauce from scratch, but I’ll take pity on you by letting you use dry pasta instead of also making it from scratch,” he says before tilting his head toward a cabinet. “Grab a medium size pot and a saucepan please.”
I follow directions, not surprised he knows where everything is here. Once I have the pot filled halfway with water I salted over a lit burner, Uncle Dean begins clapping. “Congratulations,you know more than your mother, and I’ll bet you’ll even take it one step further by proving you can’t burn water,” he teases.
“What’s next?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“I’ve got it from here, I want to be able to eat it when it’s done,” Uncle Dean says, and I pull myself up to sit on the counter.
“Probably a good choice. I tried making my boyfriend eggs last month, and I was mortified when he told me they were crunchy.”
My uncle stares at me, his dark eyebrows raised. “He complained to you they were crunchy after eating them?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yep. JJ actually ate them still with a smile and planned on never telling me, until he mentioned on a date he was learning to cook so we don’t starve. I tried to use the eggs as an example of how I can cook, and he told me it meant a lot to him I even tried to make something for him.”
“Sounds like he’s a keeper, and a thousand times better than your old one,” he says, nodding his approval. “When you find someone like him, don’t let him go.”
“You know, if everyone just told me what they really thought of Trent when I was dating him, maybe I would have dumped him sooner,” I say, giving Uncle Dean a pointed look.
“Lee, you know we were all just trying to be supportive. You have to make your own decisions, even if it means making mistakes along the way. It’s part of being an adult,” he says, offering me a smile to go with the wisdom. I feel like there’s a double entendre there, but Uncle Dean will get to his point when he wants to. “It seems like you’re enjoying Beaumont more than Columbia,” he says, and I watch as he turns the saucepan to a low simmer, dropping some butter in the pan.
“I love it. Columbia wasn’t the right fit for me,” I say, and the distinction between the two has never been more clear after the last twenty-four hours. Everything there was about who yourparents were, and how much money was in your bank account. Beaumont still has plenty of people with wealthy connections, but it’s a different vibe entirely.
“I’m proud of you for transferring. I know it probably wasn’t an easy decision, but you seem happier.”
It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the right one.
After my freshman year, I tried sticking it out a second year at Columbia, knowing it was important to make connections there, but no matter how hard I tried to make myself fit the mold and meet people’s expectations, I couldn’t.
“I am happier there. I’ve made some really great friends there, and I’m learning a lot about myself,” I say, shaking my head and spinning my ring again. I chew my bottom lip as Uncle Dean turns away to push the garlic he’s been mincing into the pan before adding the box of noodles to the boiling water. “Uncle Dean?”
“Yeah?” he asks, looking over his broad shoulder at me.
“Why did my dad call you?”
He offers me a smile riddled with sympathy more than anything. “You’ll have to ask him yourself if you want to know. I’m not the go-between for anyone anymore. I stopped doing that when I left the corporate world twenty years ago.”
“Did you really hate it so much you just quit?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me, and I know I’m more interested in his answer than I should be.
Uncle Dean leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did, even though I was good at it—actually, I was really fucking good at it. It’s the family business, and it might sound silly now, but all I ever wanted was to feel like a Benson. I thought working for the company would fix it, but I hated it. I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and your dad knew it,” Uncle Dean explains, and I try to picture him in the meetings I sat in yesterday, but I can’t. “He told me life is toofucking short to spend it doing something you hate. I applied to the fire academy, and realized he was right. I loved running into burning buildings for a living, and I met two of the most important people in my life while doing it. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.”
“Sounds like something Dad would say,” I say, and my uncle tilts his head.
“Are you excited to work at the company?” he asks, and I swallow the dread rising in me.
“Yeah, I am.”
