Cooking and Driving Lessons
His Story, Her Story... Their Story
“That smells delicious. You are really good at this,” His grandmother says as she leans to my side, eyes glistening with admiration. My lips curve into a smile at her words, happy that for once I am finally good at something. I lift the spoon out of the pot, sipping its contents as the steam escapes into the air around us, nodding my head in agreement. Smells great. Tastes great too.
“Thanks for doing this with me,” I reply, turning my head to see her watching my movements closely. The aroma of delicious, fresh food lingers in the air, the kitchen rapidly increasing in warmth as the steam escapes from the pots, hazardous of boiling over, evaporates into the surrounding air.
“It’s no problem. You’re a natural, good enough that you remind me of myself when I was younger. Except from the fact that I was and still am prettier than you,” she giggles, patting me on the back as a means of congratulating me.
From what I’ve learned about Nichkhun’s grandma in the time we’ve spent with each other, she is a very vivacious and outgoing person for her age. Not to say that she is old, just that she has more life experience that most women of her age group with no strings to hold her back after Khunnie’s grandfather’s death. She’s travelled the world far and wide in search of her true calling in life, the true meaning for her very existence. I pondered over the idea that it was her way of mourning his death, a theory for her peculiar behaviour. Along the way she’s had a few rendezvous’ with a handful of younger men, something which had made Khunnie very uneasy as she gave us an earful of her life adventures. He’d squirmed away from her reach, making sudden excuses that he had to leave before it got any worse.
Sometimes I can’t help but think that there’s something missing in her life. Though she says she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself and enjoying the world, I see those brief moments when that happy, cheerful expression is lost and replaced with grief and sorrow. Perhaps she’s lonely. I’ve watched first hand how close she bonds with Nichkhun and his family, teasing and laughing, cherishing the time they spent together as though she doesn’t want it to end. She wants to hold these memories for as long as she can remember them.
Back to reality, Grandma, as she insists I call her, decided to offer me a cooking lesson with recipes that she’d gathered during her many excursions and dishes that Khunnie had enjoyed as a child. How did I manage to find the time to do this between work and being pregnant with twins? I had been granted the week of work, with Wooyoung away overseas on business and the fact that I wasn’t allowed to fly in my ‘condition’. I tell you, I’m perfectly capable of travelling by plane all the way to Hawaii, but did anyone listen to me? No. So instead of lounging across a beach chair in a bikini (which looks totally hot when you’re pregnant) while sipping a concoction of tropical juices from a coconut cup complete with a mini pink umbrella, I am slaving over a hot stove, attempting not to cut my fingers as I chop vegetables.
“So what shall we make next?” I ask curiously, leaning over as I flick through her recipe book, my stomach grumbling in hunger. If I could eat them all I would and that was not my cravings talking. To be fairly honest, I haven’t had a sudden craving for anything. Maybe I’m not pregnant enough yet, if that made any sense.
She stops and stares into the distance, “I was thinking desert. Tiramisu. It’s absolutely delicious but I think we’ll hold on the liquor. It’s not good for the babies.” She pulls out a selection of ingredients from the white, plastic grocery bag sitting on the laminate floor and puts her many years of culinary expertise to the test.
She’d told me earlier that she’d first met Nichkhun’s grandfather while she worked as a cook in a small restaurant on the outskirts of Seoul. He thought his meal was absolutely scrumptious, the best he’d ever tasted, and requested the presence of the cook that had made such excellent dishes. It was love at first sight. Only a year later they had married before god and were expecting a baby. A beautiful ending to their love story.
“I learned this dish while I was travelling around Italy. I chose it as a dessert in a restaurant and it was one of the best things I ever tasted. The cook offered to teach me how to make it for myself,” Grandma says as she whisks some eggs in the bowl. I watch her with my entire attention, jotting down some notes as I hear the incessant ticking of the clock in the background. I turn my head as the clock solemnly announces the arrival of 3 o’clock. Had we been cooking for that long?
“And then you just arrange these-” she’s cut off by the ringing of the doorbell and the echoing knocks on the wooden door. Questioning who it may have been, I leap up from my chair almost too suddenly and rush towards the door. The keys jingle in my hands as I twist the lock, yanking open the door to find Taeyeon and Chansung in my line of sight.
“Sorry for the sudden intrusion. I picked up Chansung from school and decided to visit. The mansion is far too quiet without everyone there,” Taeyeon apologised as I welcomed her in with a warm smile curving at her lips. It had slipped my mind that Nichkhun’s parents decided to venture off to the Maldives for a second honeymoon. Judging by the size of the size of the mansion itself, it is far too hushed, shouting sounding far more like mumbles and whispers.
“Well you’re right on time. Grab a pen and paper and start taking some notes. I’m teacher for the day!” Grandma roars from the kitchen as I lead them in. Chansung makes himself feel at home, slouching across the leather couch, with TV remotes in clear reach as I hand Taeyeon some sheets of paper and my sparkly glitter pen embellished with small diamantes, a present from Heechul. It is one fine piece of stationery, that is.
*****
“Oh my god! We’ve made such a mess,” I say in shock as I scan my surroundings. The kitchen counters covered in layers of flour, gracefully floating down to the laminate floor, my apron coated in an array of ingredients from sauces to sugar and chocolate, traces of flour between strands of my dark, chocolaty locks.
We all get to work wiping the kitchen clean of all the ingredients, urging to eat the freshly made dishes set on the table. Perhaps that was a craving. It just looks so good, I think as my mouth waters in hunger until I feel the drool travel along the side of my lips. I gently brush it away in embarrassment, glancing at the clock on the wall. Five pm. He’s late and although he had my full trust, I couldn’t help but think he’s cheating on me with a supermodel. Nichkhun has the opportunity to be with anyone he wants yet he is dedicated to be by my side.
I twist my head curiously at the sudden sound of glass mashing on the ground, rushing out the kitchen to ensure no one is hurt. Shards of the antique vase are scattered across the floor, a shocked Chansung and Nichkhun frozen in position, scanning their eyes over the entirety of the accident. Though I’d seen it as I passed by every day, I didn’t know why it was positioned there, not fitting in with it’s modern, minimalist surroundings but judging from the looks on their faces, it must have been precious, a family heirloom or something of that form.
“CHANSUNG! WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?” Nichkhun roars in anger, his face flushing to a bright shade of red, infuriated with the actions of the small boy by his side. I guess he’s not cheating on me then.
“I-I’m sor-sorry Uncle Khun,” Chansung stutters, glistening tears hovering in the rims of his eyes, threatening to spill.
“Sorry doesn’t fix the vase!” he yells, slamming his fist on the glass table. I rush forward in the event of that breaking also. The warm hotness of sorrow courses from the rims of Chansung’s eyes, burying his face in Taeyeon’s shoulder as she cradles him in her arms. Is that the way he thinks he can discipline a child? I don’t think so.
Displeased with his actions, I stroll forward, tugging on the cuff of his shirt as I drag him away too cool down. I understand that he is furious but that display was no the way he should vent his anger. Gesturing him to sit on the bed, I pace up and down the room deep in thought as he sips on the ice cold water in his hands, inhaling and exhaling slowly until he is in peaceful serenity.
“I can see your mad but that’s not the way to discipline a child, Khun,” I start calmly,” He’s crying in there.”
“I’m not ‘mad’ Vic, I’m furious and irritated. He always has to breaks something when he’s here. That was a precious vase, passed down for generations,” he replies through gritted teeth, his dark orbs reading fury as they meet mine. So I was right, it was a precious heirloom. It isn’t to my personal taste but I understand that it is important.
“If it’s so precious then why do you have it?” I ask curiously in response.
“My parents gave it to me, trusting me with it to show that I could be responsible for something important. I’ve had it for seven years, waiting until my parents see that I’m responsible enough to take over part of dad’s company. Now I’ll never get it and Wooyoung will just rub it in my face for the rest of my life,” he answers, holding his head down so that his face is hidden from my line of sight. “You don’t know what it’s like to come second to him all the time. I may act like I don’t care but it really hurts Vic.”
Since we’d met, I have never seen him feel sorrow or upset about something. I’m glad that his cold, uncaring façade is lifting and he’s breaking the barrier. It finally feels as though I’ve seen each side of Nichkhun whether it be angry, happy or sad. Maybe fate had brought us together for this reason, so he’d show the world the real Nichkhun, the one under the money, obnoxiousness and charms.
Not to be eavesdropping or anything but why hadn’t they already given him a share of the company already. I know his aura doesn’t seem at all to be a trusting one but doesn’t he, as a right in his family, deserve it. He is the second heir. Unless there is something else about him that I didn’t know about yet which makes them feel uneasy about sharing the company with him?
“It’s not like you can’t show your parents responsibility anymore. I mean, we have twins on the way, taking care of kids also shows some responsibility. Now, let’s go, you must be hungry,” I reply reassuringly, signalling the door as the scent of delicious wafts through my nostrils.
*****
“It was delicious, Can I get dessert now?” a smile plays at Chansung’s lips as he pats his stomach, hoping he has enough room for Grandma’s tiramisu. Nichkhun had apolgised as we sat down for dinner, the uncle and nephew bond returning back to normal as Chansung chats animatedly to Nichkhun who is more than ‘eager’ to listen to what had happened to him at school.
“I think we better take some dessert to go. We need to get going so Chansung can do his homework when he gets home. Dinner was amazing,” Taeyeon says as she leaps from her chair, hoisting Chansung out of his as she prepares to leave. She smiles gratefully, wrapping her fingers around the plastic container Grandma hands her stuffed full with plenty of Tiramisu.
I lead them out and watch by the door as they leave, Chansung trudging past with his backpack thrown over one shoulder, swaying from side to side, it’s contents threatening to spill “It was nice to see you guys. We should get together more often.”
Taeyeon sighs in response, grabbing Chansung’s hood as he attempts to sneak past her, “We definitely should before Wooyoung get’s back. There’s normally so much brotherly conflict between him and Nichkhun, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife,” she pauses before her face lights up with an idea, “Or I could help you shop from some baby stuff. I know you still have a lot of time but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
“Definitely. I’ll call you to arrange something. Have a nice night,” I reply, waving as they step into the elevator and bid farewell. I slowly pull the door closed as a cold drafts blows past me, shivering in my thin cardigan and dress.
*****
Thinking about what Taeyeon said abut shopping for baby stuff, I realised I’m really unprepared. I’m 20 weeks pregnant and I don’t know when these babies are going to pop out. And there are two of them. I should definitely start getting ready. What if they even come out tonight or just now? I don’t even have basic necessities, I think, mentally slapping myself across the head.
I walk back into the kitchen deep in though, knocking into the table in the process. Nichkhun pulls me down into the chair beside him, holding out a spoonful of Tiramisu as he attempts to feed me. Not knowing of his motives, I ignore him, staring into space.
He heaves a sigh, placing the spoon on his dessert plate. “I was thinking about teaching you to drive tonight. It’s still qite bright out,” he suggests as he glances at the wndow to see Seoul’s cityscape in clear view, the sun hidden by an array of clouds.
“Me? Drive?” I ask curiously, turning to face him, my eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“Heechul told me you have a driver’s permit so why not learn to drive? In a few years, someone has to take the kids to school and stuff. It’s a good skill to have,” Khun and his grandma nod in agreement. I knew I was going to have to learn sometime. Trying to prevent it for so long was not a good idea.
*****
20 minutes, dragging, pulling and much persuasion, later, I stand on the sidewalk, waiting patiently for him to drive up in his car so our lesson can begin. Beads of sweat hang on my temples, anxiety and fear getting the better of my emotions. Previous experiences of driving haven’t given me an image of the act which is safe, always ending in some form of tragedy or panic attack. Although I know Nichkhun is perfectly capable of teaching, he doesn’t entirely understand what he is dealing with by insisting that I am his student.
“Are you going to get in or not?” he asks, noticing the fearful expression playing my facial muscles. He climbs out of the driver’s seat, holding the door open for me as he adjusts my seat to fit the baby bump growing rapidly in my lower abdomen. What a gentleman he is. Grandma, who insited she can assist him in teaching me, scoots into the back as Khun copies similarly, the click of his seatbelt sounding as it fastens.
The key rings jingle as I ignite the engine, grateful that I’m getting a somewhat good start. I turn to Nichkhun, watching with a hopeful demeanour, nodding for me to continue. The car is eerily silent, no one daring to breathe a single word as they watch me in anticipation. In a way, the whole situation is a lot more dramatic from my perspective but it’s interesting that way so I’ll carry on. I peek my head out of the window, conscious of any passing cars, the wheels whining as I pull the car into the road.
“Thank god. I thought a decade passed by waiting for you to start this damn thing,” Grandma says as she leans forward and pats me on the shoulder, clicking the button on the dashboard to turn on the radio, Shinee’s ‘Sherlock’ booming out of the speakers at full volume. I watch in awe as we drive by the apartment complexes surrounding us, the car’s encircling us and the pedestrians walking, the pitter-patter of their footsteps echoing on the pavement.
“You are much better than I expected,” Khun says with a hint of admiration in his tone.
“I do admit it’s not as frightening as I expected.”
“You’re scared of driving?” a devilish grin curves at the edges of his mouth.
“Stop looking so smug. I was scared of driving but now I’m not,” I reply defensively, slowly increasing in speed as evidence that I’m good at this.
*****
“I’m so sorry officer,” Khun apologises 20 minutes later, watching as the officer scribbles down a ticket before placing it in his hand, sending a glare in my direction.
“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he says in response, strolling back to his vehicle, awaiting our departure first to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. I hold my head down in shame as Khun returns to his driver’s seat, unsatisfied with my actions. Grandma and I don’t say a word, not wanting to aggravate him any more than he already was.
“Were you trying to be stupid? I told you to slow down and you didn’t listen to me,” he snaps angrily. Yes, you heard it right. Wanting to show I could be just as good as he was, I drove faster until I was much over the speed limit, endangering the lives of the 3 of us. The police officer had watched as I sped by, signalling for me to stop so he could give us a ticket for reckless driving. Now we’re pretty much in the situation that he’ll scold me like my father.
“I don’t understand why you’re so mad. I remember back to when you had your permit and you did the same exact thing except you crashed you dad’s Ferrari into a tree, trying to look cool to your friends,” Grandma laughs from the backseat, “But the funniest part was when you blamed the crash on the tree.” I can’t help but laugh with her as his face slowly transcends into a beetroot red, his ears on fire.
“But once Wooyoung forgot to put the breaks on when he went to the beach with Taeyeon while they dated and it rolled into the ocean. The look on his face when he tried to lie about it was priceless,” she adds, bursting into a fit of laughter. I guess the stern boss of mine did make mistakes too. And I thought he was ‘great’ in everything. It could make good blackmail at work.
“Oh I remember that. Dad kept asking where his Ferrari was and Wooyoung made up some story about it being stolen from a pirate at the beach,” Khun chuckled.
The whole journey home was great, stories about weird driving experiences the highlight of my evening. It became pretty clear that the whole Horvejkul clan weren’t as bright as they appeared to be. I just hope the kids don’t pick up any of these traits.
Hi everyone. I'm BACK! After leaving you guys for such a long time. I've been working really hard to get is done for you guys. With writer's block and being lazy, it just took me so long but when my results came back on Tuesday and were excellent (I'm so happy) I just knew I had to get this done.
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