Chapter 10

It’s almost 4 p.m. by now and I have to buy candles, a new saucer pan, some bread and so many other things. Sally Queen’s decided she is coming with me. She makes sure all the groceries are fine and helps me with the bags. At the baker’s she even shouts at Kelly, who is very well known in Northgate for her strong Christian believes.

‘Can’t you see the poor girl is in a hurry, for God’s sake? This ice-cream is melting away… She is intended to prepare the last supper!’

Oh, you should see poor Kelly’s face. Sally Queen can be as unequivocal as a hawk diving in the sky after its pray and I really appreciate she is by my side now. I am normally very shy and it’s like being carried away by a crazy and favorable wind. So things get rushy and in the middle of the rain we go to the gift card shop —just in case Avner wants to give her some kind of message: he says he is much better writing things than saying them— and the confectioner’s —chocolate, how can anyone live without chocolate?— and the ironmongery —I suddenly remembered that a couple of lightbulbs over the dinner table and the lamp in the corner were not working at all, and the atmosphere is so important when we talk about dinners— in a couple of hours we are back at 109 Main Road and Sally Queen’s leaving the bags and Floro’s camellias on the floor and in search of the key in my pockets —both of my hands are busy, how is it possible I have bought so many things—.

So here I am, at the boat-house kitchen. Stoves on, full power. I have chosen Radiohead’s OK Computer —Avner’s favorite album of all times; not sure if it is that good, but I feel it’s important to cook with his music today: I firmly believe that cooking is not only about putting ingredients on a pot and stirring them, no, there are so many layers and dressings like music and love and caring—.

And I am crying. Oh, don’t worry, you silly girl, Sally Queen, there’s no need, I am just chopping onions. Have you ever thought about them? I can’t really cook without onions. It’s a little bit like the ‘Computer’ subject for Thom Yorke, you know.

OK Onion.

‘Okay onion, I want full manual control now.’

And I smile to myself.

Oh, sorry, my Sally Queen, I know you can’t understand. Not your fault. It’s a quotation taken from that Douglas Adam’s sci-fi novel, A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Avner’s favorite book. Something’s wrong in the space-ship navigation and the computer can’t guarantee a safe landing or some kind of maneuver shit. Anyway, president Zaphod, requests full manual control and somehow you as a reader have to figure out that this phrase it’s important, more than words can say. I think it is kind of talking about the essence of being humans, you know. And about the power of communication, if I am not mistaken, ultimately. Guess Avner was a geek as much as Thom Yorke —Radiohead’s frontman— and Douglas Adams, and they find their way to express loneliness and disconnection.

But here’s the point: whenever I peel off an onion, I feel I am gaining manual control of myself, if such a thing can be ever conquered. I mean, the minute the tears show up in my eyes it all starts. The gates open. ‘Cause everything’s OK with onions. And it’s wonderful that something that makes you cry and that’s layered like onions are basic for cooking. Whenever I grab the knife and start chopping onions, I feel the urge of tears. That’s precisely the thing I love about cooking. And I am not talking about the crying. If somebody cooks for me I can feel the love behind the act itself, so I could cry the same way as when cutting an onion. Something to do with the marrow, the centre of being human beings. It takes a lot of time and dedication to prepare a meal, you know, chopping the vegetables, onions and peppers or meat and getting everything together, boiling or frying or heating at the exact temperature and at the nick of time. No more no less. Melting, stirring. Combine it with music, smiles, caring. Whatever you do. Setting the table, for example, is an act of love for others. You take out the napkins, the cutlery —previously polished—, dishes and fine glasses and put them right in their place, not an inch up or down. This exact spot. Not there, Sally, please, it’s very important to set things as if they weren’t just forks or spoons, no, they are perfect instruments we use for eating. For communicating with other human beings. Pots and dishes, bowls and cups and glasses are not just things: they have a soul and they can convey the energy of those who made use of them. For eating, for laughing at the table, for crying and complaining and enjoying and all the things we do as we share our meals. Cooking and eating, my Sally, is our truest act of love. After all, beyond all polarities, all we’re going to do for eternity is sit around the fire.

Instead of sharing these beautiful thoughts, all I can do is writing on my white blackboard ‘OK, onion’. Guess that’s communication after all, uh? Writing or saying a couple of words with tears in your eyes and letting people stare at you and feeling the same you do.

And Sally Queen smiles at me and she offers me a hug. After that, she’s gone and I am on my own again. Supper will be ready in a minute and we have done, I believe, a great job: a nice table, with candles and everything in its right place. But there must be something I am forgetting, ‘cause I have that feeling, I am sure you have felt it before. Oh, yes! Ai’s bowls! Can’t believe it! So I put them carefully and I picture them —Avner and Helen— cutting the volcano omelette and the egg spreading and then digging inside the bowls with their chopsticks and saying ‘Hey, have you seen this sakura flower?’ when they get to the bottom. And she will say ‘What a nice view’ —I added a pinch of staying spice on the recipe— and he will nod his head and think twice and propose her to spend some time here in Northgate and in the end they will understand —this is the egg sprawling— how wonderful life can be here. So they will stay.

Yes, let me say it again: a nice job. Even when this yellow boat-house is empty now and I can almost touch the sense of a life who is reaching its end. You know, Avner came here just with a suitcase and I dare say he has never fully unpackaged. He came in Norhgate knowing those were Pat’s last days on Earth, knowing already that he would sell the property and that this would mean the killing of his past. The definitive killing of Northgate-on-Sea for him and his getting back to London, to Helen, to his numbers-job.

But enough of sad thoughts. Feeling proud of the last supper I’ve cooked for them, I check my watch and I take off my apron. It’s time to go to the station in order to pick Helen up, who is expected on the 7:17 train. Just hope that Avner will be here on time. You know. You never know with him.

Then, a noise.

Bang, bang!

Can you hear it?

Bang, bang!

A noise coming through the night.

© Enrique Armenteros Caballero, 2025

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