This

Chapter 16

“I have to ring up Ma to get the recipe,” he explained when I looked at him, questioning the phone in his hand. After a few rings, she picked up.

“Hello?” A husky, heavily accented voice came from the speaker. Although I was terrible at accents, especially American, I knew exactly where she was from; Boston.

“Hey Ma, it's me. Your favourite son,” he finished, winking at me from his perch on the counter.

“Mark, baby, how are ya?” the voice replied. I loved the way she said his name. It wasn't 'Marrrk' like most people pronounced it. It was 'Mahk', not too different from how I say it.

“I'm good, Ma. Hey listen, I have a very special guest tonight and I really want some of your lasagne, so I was thinking you could maybe give me the recipe,” he asked, bringing his fist up to his lips.

“Who's the guest? If it ain't mister President, then I don't wanna know,” she said, before bursting into laughter. Mark motioned for me to come closer.

“No Ma, this is Elle. She's staying with Renee and I until her place is done. She's my new assistant, and she sounds like you but... different,” he chuckled.

“Hi... Ma?” I said into the speaker, which made both the Walker's, both present and on the phone burst into fits of laughter.

“Hi babe, I hope my Mark is treating you well. I give you full permission to spank him if he ain't,” she said. There is was again. 'Mahk.'

“A spanking won't be necessary, Ma,” Mark whispered, his cheeks flushing red.

“No, Mark is really nice, he even let me listen to his music,” I said, and Ma started to giggle through the speaker.

“Aww Mark babe, why did you stop ya music? You were so talented! Remember when my girlfriend Debbie tried to give ya a smooch at that show once? It was the funniest thing, Elle, this old bat like me trying to feel up my little Mark-”

“Ma! Lasagne, please!” Mark interrupted, looking mortified at whatever memory accompanied the story that was almost shared.

“I'm just teasing baby. Yeah, you need some fresh tomatoes, and- Mark, are you writing this down? I'm not repeating it when mister President comes for dinner!”

“Elle, grab some paper! Come on, you're my assistant so... assist!” Mark joked, his Ma joining in on the laughter. I managed to find some paper in a drawer and write down the recipe as Ma recited it through the phone.

“Send me pictures, Mark. I love ya babe,” she said through the phone. Mark rolled his eyes at me, pretending like he hated it when really he seemed like a complete mama's boy.

“Love you too, Ma.”

“Bye, Elle!” Ma crooned through the phone, making me giggle. The phone clicked as she hung up and I suddenly realised I didn't even know her name.

“Alma,” Mark said, completely reading my mind. I nodded slowly, making sure I remembered that. Alma. Alma. Alma...

“Right, should we start cooking, Mark?” I said, making sure to pronounce his name like his Ma did. 'Mahk.'

“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Opening the fridge, I grabbed all of the necessary ingredients to make Ma's lasagne, and when I closed the door, Mark was standing there with a red, patterned apron on with a blue one in his hand, holding it out for me. The sight was really something, I'll say that much.

“Oh, baby. Do you smell that?” Mark said, staring at the oven door. Two hours had passed and the lasagne was ready to come out of the oven, but the house smelt delicious. Ma really knew how to make lasagne, and I think we did well enough to make her proud.

“We should send Ma a picture of you in that apron because it's definitely a new look,” I joked. Mark faked offence, but continued to pull the lasagne out of the oven.

“Hi-five, Elle. We did fucking good,” he drawled, staring hungrily at the dish on the counter. As our hands clapped together, I felt myself growing fond of Mark and the friendship we were starting to develop. Mark directed me to where plates and cutlery were and instructed me to set the table, and as he was carrying the dish over we heard the elevator doors ding as they opened.