"Hey, you're up."
"Hey, you're cooking."
"Yep, making the works..."
Season 5.4- Tippecanoe and Taylor, Too
1975- One year later
Luke shifted from foot to foot, his legs getting sore. He'd been waiting for what felt like hours and it was getting cold. He was grumpy and hungry and bored and he was becoming more and more annoyed with every passing minute.
"Hurry up, Liz," he muttered to himself.
Eventually, his little sister strutted out of the school, backpack slung over one shoulder and something Luke hoped was glue in her hair. He threw his arms up dramatically.
"What took you so long?!" he yelled. "I've been waiting for forever."
Liz shrugged nonchalantly. "Sorry big brother. I didn't know you were gonna be picking me up."
"I told you like eight times this morning. Dad's at the hospital with mom. So here I am, trust me I'm not thrilled about it either."
"You were so much nicer before," Liz muttered.
"Excuse me?!" Luke said, incredulous. "I was nicer before? Have you met yourself lately?"
"Shut up."
"What is this crap in your hair anyway?"
"It's hair gel, it's cool."
"No, it absolutely is not."
"I don't care what you think."
They fell into silence as they plodded along home together. Luke felt a little bad, he hadn't meant to be quite so harsh. He really loved his little sister, she could just be so annoying sometimes.
"Hey, what did you mean 'before'? When was before?" Luke asked her.
Liz didn't answer him. She didn't answer because she knew that he knew what before meant. Before dad started working later and later to pay the medical bills and mom hadn't slept in her own bed for weeks. Before things got weird. Before mom was sick.
Liz locked herself in her room as soon as they got home. Luke sighed and wandered into the kitchen. A note was left on the fridge.
Gonna be later than I thought, kids was scrawled in his dad's handwriting. There's food in the fridge.
Luke pulled the note off the fridge and dumped it in the bin. He'd never cooked dinner before. It was always mom or dad who'd throw something together and put it down in front of them. Before, it was always mom, but now dad cooked most nights, reading the instructions on the back of the pasta twice. He'd never really cooked much before. Neither of his parents had any sort of passion for cooking and food was just, well, food.
Luke opened the fridge and cautiously peered inside. There was a frozen pizza. Luke wrinkled his nose. He hated frozen food. There must be something else. He pushed the random jars out the way, digging around in the fridge, and took out everything that wasn't frozen or unidentified. He put it all on the kitchen table, stepped back, and considered.
He had eggs, which presented many possibilities, milk, butter, and bread. Not a lot to go on. Luke pulled over one of the kitchen chairs and climbed on top, peering over the fridge. He was sure there was a recipe book up here somewhere. Ah, yes, there it was! Jackpot! He grabbed it and blew off the dust. This never got used. It must've been his grandmother's or something because William and Lottie would never have bought it.
He flipped through the pages, almost salivating at the names of some of the dishes. Eventually, he found a section called 'Easy comfort food'. That sounded about right. The very first recipe was called How to make the best scrambled egg on toast. He glanced at the ingredient list and at the table. Yep, that was doable.
Once Luke started cooking, it was effortless. He just followed every step exactly as written, taking care and not rushing. When he was breaking the eggs and measuring out butter, he didn't think about anything else. It was nice. It was peaceful. The kitchen was his own space. He was almost at the end of the recipe. The scrambled eggs looked like scrambled eggs, much to his delight. The final step read: Season to taste. What did that mean? He looked over that at their understocked spice rack apprehensively. What difference were those little bottles going to make? He picked up the black pepper and sniffed it. A wave of smell hit him. He sprinkled a bit in, and then some salt too. That made them taste like they were from a restaurant! But they could use a little more salt, he decided.
After twenty minutes in the kitchen, he called Liz downstairs proudly. She sauntered in. It was a mess.
"What did you do?" she asked.
"I cooked!" Luke declared, showing her the plate of scrambled eggs on toast.
"You did this?" she asked. He nodded. "How?"
Luke shrugged nonchalantly. "No big deal," he said. "Go on, try it."
Liz sat down and took a bite. She smiled. "That's really good,"
Luke had never been prouder. He couldn't believe that something that he created had made someone smile like that. Comfort food, he decided, was the best kind.
Luke and Liz were sat on the floor playing snakes and ladders when the front door opened.
"Kids?" called their father.
"We're in here!" Liz yelled back, not looking up from the game. It wasn't until they heard two sets of footsteps enter the living room that they raised their heads.
"Mom!" Liz squealed, wrapping herself around her mother.
"Hi, sweetie," Lottie said gently, kissing her daughter's head. "What's all this in your hair?"
"It's hair gel, mom, do you like that?"
"I love it." Lottie laughed. "But you're so beautiful with or without it. Hi Luke, baby."
"Hi, mom," Luke whispered. He hadn't seen his mother in weeks, but she looked different now. A little thinner, a little more tired. But she was still his mom.
"What've you been up to?"
"I learned how to cook," Luke told her proudly.
Lottie smiled at her son. "You are clever, aren't you? Now, who's winning this game of snakes and ladders?"
"I am." Liz declared.
"No, you're not, you're three behind me!" Luke protested.
"Yes, but I'm lucky."
"I guess you'll just have to play and see what happens," Lottie told them, settling down to do one of the things she had missed most, watching her children play.
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