Sous Chefs and Art Galleries

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Unless the light was playing tricks on him, Tristan would have sworn that Gwen was crying. She swatted the tear away, though and smiled.

“Fantastic,” said Gwen. “Because we told them about you and they are thrilled about meeting you. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

Tristan smiled, even though his insides squirmed. He’d never been a fan of the phrase “we told them about you”. It always denoted a need to impress; something Tristan was never very good at doing. Secretly, he was thrilled, too. As flattered as he was nervous.

Gabriel filled Tristan in on Torben’s parents some more – their names, their ages – and then he snatched Leopold away to look at something called a “sashimi flower”. Tristan leaned against the counter and watched as Leopold set the crayons and coloring book aside tenderly – as if putting a baby to bed – before trotting across the kitchen to ooh and ahh over something Gabriel had made.

“And don’t worry about dressing up,” said Gwen, recapturing Tristan’s wandering attention. “Ingo and Abigail are surprisingly laid back. Torben is worried about you meeting them. He said something about them ‘tainting you view of him’ whatever that means. I think it’s bullsh*t, really.”

Tristan laughed. It really was bullsh*t. He considered saying as much – that if Torben hadn’t ruined Tristan’s opinion of him yet that nothing would – but decided against it.

“Since Gabriel took Leopold, be my guinea pig. Try this,” Gwen said, picking up the silence and running with it. Before Tristan could process what was going on, something warm and fleshy was in his mouth. He stared at Gwen with a flicker of amused irritation. “What do you think?”

“I think you should get your finger out of my mouth,” Tristan mumbled.

His words were almost unintelligible. And at some point, while trying to talk around Gwen’s finger, he tasted something sweet. Tristan couldn’t identify the flavors, but it was such a pure, intense sweetness that it erased any irritation. He pulled Gwen’s hand away from his mouth and swallowed.

“That’s … good.” A better word couldn’t come to mind. There were too many choice words – amazing, delicious, great – and they burst somewhere in the back of Tristan’s brain after he spoke. “What is it?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

Tristan mumbled something inaudible, his words unable to make their way around Gwen’s batter-drenched finger. She chuckled and rolled her eyes playfully until Tristan’s face changed from shock to delight. After a moment, “That’s … good.” he said as if he wasn’t expecting it to be. “What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gwen said in a sing-songy voice. “A bit of this, a bit of that. I just sort of threw things together.”

She plucked her finger from Tristan’s lips with an awful sucking sound that reminded Gwendoline of the way Torben ate Jell-o. She wiped her finger on her apron and resumed her work. “That’s another reason why I’ve never gotten married. The cake. Naturally, I’d have to design and bake it. But I’d want to surprise Torben , so how would that even work?” Gwen laughed again, lifting the mixture for transport. “Jesus that’s heavy.” She shuffled, heaving the batter to a new counter where she would pour it into a cascading pool of pre-cupcakes

She slipped.

Her shoes let forth an awful screech that could put banshees to shame and she wondered if wearing appropriately named slippers to work was a smart idea.

A pain spread from her rump to her back as she laughed, batter dripping from the already messy tendrils that surrounded her face like a lion’s mane. “Oh f*ck! What a mess…” She laughed and wiped a glob of beige batter from her nose. A shadow fell over her. “Tristan, help me up,” she said lovingly to the black shade that stretched around her.

“Mademoiselle Fontaine,” her boss said. The shadow was not Tristan. “Unless he plans to help you clean this up, your visitor needs to leave.”

She spun around in the muck and frowned. “Yes sir. I understand.” Once he left, she stood, slipping around in the puddle. “You don’t have to help me clean up. It’s not your mess. You can go if you like. Thanks for the crayons.” She smiled at Tristan and wrapped a short arm around his waist for a long hug. The time she had spent with him today, though cut short, was precious.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Gwen teased him, refusing to say what was in the batter. As if Tristan could even hope to replicate Gwen’s culinary strokes of genius. He rolled his eyes at her “a bit of this; a bit of that”. She really stuck to the magician’s code, didn’t she?

“That’s another reason why I’ve never gotten married,” said Gwen. “The cake. Naturally, I’d have to design and bake it. But I’d want to surprise Torben , so how would that even work?”

Tristan laughed. He would gladly volunteer his kitchen as Gwen’s workspace if it meant his two best friends would finally tie the knot. Sometimes, Tristan forgot Torben and Gwen weren’t married. A lot of the time, he thought they forgot, too.

Gwen picked up a cupcake pan with a sort of “oof” noise that Tristan thought was for comedic effect.

“Jesus that’s heavy,” she said.

“Do you need help…?”

Before Gwen could answer him, she took a spill, spilling cupcake batter everywhere. Cupcake batter flicked up on Tristan’s suit and cascaded all over Gwen. He couldn’t help himself; Tristan laughed. He laughed hard, doubling over and gripping the counter in order to stay standing.

“Oh F*ck! What a mess…” Gwen said with a laugh.

You’re telling me… Tristan thought, studying his batter-splattered suit jacket. He’d have to run home to change before going back to the funeral home. Maybe stop by the dry cleaners.

He was terribly tempted to lick some of the batter off of his sleeve. The only thing stopping him, was knowing exactly where the suit had been this morning and would be in the future.

“Tristan, help me up,” Gwen demanded. Tristan waved her off, still trying to put the brakes on his laughter. He’d be no use as a human ladder if he slipped, too.

“Mademoiselle Fontaine,” a voice said. Tristan looked up to see what must have been Gwen’s boss looming over her. “Unless he plans to help you clean this up, your visitor needs to leave.”


Tristan shrunk back apologetically, even though the mess wasn’t his fault. He wondered how Gwen had survived in this work environment, being a free-spirit and all.

“Yes sir. I understand,” said Gwen. That was the least Gwen-like sentence Tristan had ever heard. But it satisfied her boss who walked out of the room. Once the coast was clear, Tristan started to snicker again. Especially as Gwen struggled to her feet. He offered her a hand. “You don’t have to help me clean up. It’s not your mess. You can go if you like. Thanks for the crayons.”

“Of course,” Tristan said, accepting the batter-covered hug. His suit was already in dire need of a trip to the dry-cleaners. “I’m gonna have to change before I get back to work. For some reason, I don’t think anyone will believe me if I say this is cupcake batter on my suit.”

Maybe there was a reason Gwen visited him at work and not the other way around.