A Night with the Devil

Chapter 24

Practice makes perfect, as the saying goes. It's actually a no-brainer. One could either go for the flexible meaning which is training would help one acquire or improve a certain skill or the much more literal sense which is constant repetition would lead to perfection. Either way, its main thought revolves around the co-relation between application and mastery. Constant execution of a certain idea, belief, or method would lead to proficiency and enhanced proficiency is essential in building a certain level of confidence in the performance or practice of such matters.

My hypothetical approach in the logic of confidence-building has been my preoccupation in the past 30 minutes because I am very certain that I've done these countless times before and that I'm undeniably confident with the claims that I have mastered the art way back. What I don't understand is, why all of a sudden, my mind seemed to always second guess my every movement? It's as though I am not that sure with what I'm doing which is absolutely absurd!

I've been sweating like a pig while preparing the fastest restaurant-style dinner for my dear, unexpected guest. However, unlike the typical restaurant dinner where your guest awaits for the meal at the table, mine is sitting like a vulture on the counter top while gobbling a plate of caramelized onion on goat cheese bread and vegetable salad that I had prepared.

I kept on insisting that he take a seat on the dining area, however, he was just way too stubborn that I found it futile to waste time on arguing. He was eating while amusingly watching me prepare the steak. Knowing the inner vampire in him, I knew he would opt for a rare-cooked steak so I pan-fried a strip. When I thought that I've basted it enough, I turned the stove off then removed the steak from the pan and transferred it in a plate with sautéd vegetables. I poured a little gravy then topped it with fresh rosemary.

Finally, he agreed to move to the dining table where everything was set up already.

He sat down quietly and fixed the napkin on his lap. He looked at the steak critically which made me wonder if it looked overly done or if my plating was quite unpleasant to the eyes. Personally, I think it looked decent enough to pass for a fancy meal, just short of fancy garnishes, of course, considering the untimeliness of the meal.

He picked up the silvers and started slicing the steak fluidly. The outside was nicely cooked while the inside was red and raw, just as how I assumed he would prefer it.

or would he?

What if his preference for raw protein only applies to sushi? What if he doesn't like his steak rare? What if he liked it medium rare or worse, well done?

My steak never failed to garner compliments from consumers, may it be first time or recurrent ones; however, I found myself on my tippy toes, holding my breath while waiting for his feedback.

His face was void of any emotions. There was no tell-tale as to whether he liked it or not, which made me even more uneasy. I really should have asked him for his preference. He didn't say anything. He just continued eating without a word. I was growing more nervous and quite impatient for his impression. If it didn't really suit his taste, won't he at least give me a faint smile even just for gratitude? This waiting game is really prickling my nerves! I think it is an unspoken courtesy that you say something about the food when being fed at another person's house even if its just fractionally genuine. Is he really that insensitive?

He opened the wine bottle he got from Meredith's stash. Luckily, Meredith is a wine connoisseur that is why she has a stash of great wines for Stan to choose from. However, since its a Friday, she's a no-show until later that is why I just called her up to ask for permission as I will be reimbursing her at a later time. She's cool with it. Actually, she was thrilled to know that I have a male guest in the apartment. I didn't really intend to inform her about his details as that would pave way for annoying questions.