The Huntress

Part Two

"There's my little chef!" My grandpa said, as I met him in their '50's style kitchen.

"Grandpa, I'm an inch or two taller than you, and I'm fifteen, not five." I respond with a tinge of laughter as I grab out the wooden cutting board.

"That is true, but I have more experience," He retorted, smiling. "Your father spent much of his time in my kitchen at the restaurant. It's too bad it had to be foreclosed." My grandfather sighed, pulling out a second cutting board.

"Just tell me what to do, I need something productive to do tonight." I responded, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, if you could get this thing to turn on, that would be great." He said, handing me the mini iPad.

"Okay, this should be easy." I responded, grabbing the edge of the flip over of the iPad casing and press the home button. The brightness was high, and a mystery novel was open in the Kindle Reader application. I guessed my grandmother was reading last night.

"I think it was just the brightness that threw you off. Grandma was probably reading last night and had to turn the brightness up, and didn't warn you of it." I explained, turning down the brightness and punching in the password.

"Oh, that was probably it, the numbers on the screen were hard to read." He said, laughing at the fact that grandma had stayed up late last night.

"That book was good! I didn't want to put it down!" My grandmother exclaimed, yelling from the front room as she set down her embroidery on the coffee table.

"I bet it was, grandma!" I respond, starting to cut a red pepper.

My grandfather and I laughed as my grandmother strolled across the kitchen and into their bedroom to grab the second iPad. "Why didn't you use your own last night Babette?" My grandfather asked, continuing to laugh.

"It wasn't charged and I couldn't seem to find the charger." She responded, returning to the front room.

"I think I saw it on the outlet near the door in the front room actually." I say, pointing toward the rusted white door in the front room.

"There it is! Thanks Meg." My grandmother says, as a small smile piercing her bright red lips.

" I should get back to cooking. See you in a while grandma. Grandpa has a lot of peppers in the grocery bag." I say, trying to sound as normal as possible. It was beginning to become harder to act like things were alright.

"You have a handle on the peppers?" My grandfather asks, pulling out a couple onions.

"Yeah, I'll be alright."

"That's the spirit!"

"Okie dokie!" I say, grudgingly, but enjoying my grandpa's happiness.

We continued on our merry way, cutting vegetables fresh from our neighbors garden, taking sips of peach iced tea, being careful to not nibble on too many pepper slices. We got everything cut up, and went on to the meat. "Wait. Grandpa, is that tofu?" I ask surprised that he, of all people, gave in and bought tofu.

"Yes, Megara, I got tofu. It is a different recipe than your Grandmother's." He said, laughing. It was pretty rare to see him laugh so much, I had just gotten out of the mental hospital a week ago, and his son, my father, had just died. Times were somber in this area of New Orleans right now. But it's getting better.

We continued to cook the tofu and shred it as best we could. We added some chicken flavoring, paprika, and other seasonings to the tofu. It looked kind of weird, but almost like chicken I guess you could say. "Grab the shells in the fridge, and the milk please." My grandfather asked as he walked out into the dining room.

"Yep!" I respond, trying to grab the giant bag of taco shells and the jug of milk. It was a slight struggle, but it was the milks fault. "Here it is!" I exclaim, setting it down at the table and grabbing my seat at the left hand side of my grandmother.

We at in silence. It was normal for us, not pleasant, but things were slowly getting back to normal. "So....I had fun cooking with you again." I say, trying to stir up a conversation with my grandfather.

"How does it taste?" He asks, I could feel my throat caving in.

"The food is great." I say, managing to push out those four words. I knew why he didn't want to talk, but it was hard not talking. I needed something other than the sound of me chewing to keep the thoughts out. It was quiet after that. We decided to clean up, and I returned to my room.