Adultescence: a novella

Donuts and Wings

7.

Clarke had just finished applying a second coating of tomato-miso glaze to her eggplant when the first knock at the door came. The pre-Christmas potluck was meant to do triple duty as a joint birthday celebration for Josh and Neil, both mid-December babies, and as a last chance for the gang to connect before they scattered home to their families for the holidays.

As fate would have it, Neil was the first to arrive, giving him and Clarke several minutes alone to 'visit'. Truthfully, she thought of it as Josh's party. Neil was an inescapable add-on. But in his own mind he was a Guest of Honour, and though that exempted him from cooking, he surprised her with a tray of brownies.

"Thanks, Neil. I didn't know you baked."

"I don't, really." Unashamed. "It's from a mix."

"Well, you get full marks for trying."

Perennially girlfriendless, Neil greeted Clarke's polite condescension with a mix of mild resentment and not-so-mild envy. Watching her dote on Josh of late, he half-suspected he'd have more success with women if he were gay. He could be forgiven for feeling like an overlooked reveller at his own birthday.

"It's a great apartment," he said, working extra hard to ingratiate himself.

"Thanks. Yeah, the building was converted into condos a few years ago, so everything was redone. The owner's a really nice woman, a university prof. She's on sabbatical in Spain for a year, so I don't get to keep it, unfortunately."

"Maybe she'll marry a Spaniard and decide to stay."

"I can only hope."

Lief and Josh soon arrived to save her from a more thoroughgoing interview with Betty Crocker's apprentice.

It had been suggested via email that vegetarian-friendly options would be appreciated, and Lief did his bit by bringing a three-bean salad with pita bread, a mixed twelve-pack of craft beers, and a—

"Bottle of wine?" Clarke asked, looking at the tall gift bag.

"Nope. Fire extinguisher. Belated housewarming present."

"Thanks," she said, a bit sceptical. She took it out of its glimmering foil bag, drew a finger across its bulbous top and picked up a thin layer of dust.

"Lief Gabrels, look me in the eyes and tell me that you went out and specifically bought this for me."

He blushed. Josh cringed for him. He'd told him it was a bad idea.

"I cannot tell a lie," said the earnest Boy Scout. "They replaced them all at work, and were tossing these small ones out. So, I thought you could use it."

"Great. Always happy to have other people's cast-offs."

She was, for the most part.

"Well, what about you?" she threw a sly glance at Josh as he handed her a deep foil tray. "Josh, you shouldn't have. I told you not to cook."

"I didn't. They're Thai salad rolls." He had not so much ignored the explicit prohibition as found a loophole. "No cooking required."

"Thank you. They'll make the perfect appetizer."

Neil would be the judge of that.

They all moved through the living room into the kitchen and Josh soon had his rolls out on the table with a dish of hoisin sauce, lime juice, and a touch of chili oil.

They were lacking something, Neil thought—maybe tiger shrimp for some heft?—but he nonetheless ate three in rapid succession.

Sniffing around the big white plastic bag that had been left on the counter, Lief snuck a peek at the brownies before confirming with Neil: "Your special recipe?"