Bogg lays out the ingredients he needs on his kitchen counter. He probably won't be able to eat anyway later on, but cooking will take his mind of things. He starts by boiling some water. He juggles with a lemon and two onions. When he drops one of the onions it roles underneath a cupboard. He puts his other 'juggling balls' on the counter and gets down on all fours to retrieve the one that got away.
"Bogg!" he says to himself reproachfully. "How many times have I told you not to play with your food?"
He pours the rice in the boiling water to cook, then gets out his cutting board and starts chopping up an onion and a clove of garlic. He moves the chopped bits into a bowl and ads three table spoons of ketjap manis and one table spoon of sambal oelek.
"Almost out of sambal, I should make a trip to Indonesia soon."
Bogg cuts the lemon in half. Using only his hand he squeezes the juice from one half of lemon into the bowl. He stirs up the ingredients in the bowl. Then he takes out a plastic cutting board to cut the chicken breast into cubes of about half an inch. When the rice is ready he drains of the excess water. He adds the diced chicken to the ingredients in the bowl and immediately cleans the cutting board and the knife he used. He stirs the ingredients in the bowl so that all the chicken is covered by the marinade. Bogg turns to the rice to make longtong. He transfers the rice to a lightly greased backing pan and covers it with a teatowel and a heavy weight. Now he has to wait.He stares into the bowl of chicken thoughtfully.
Why did he decide to make sate ayam? Cooking was a good idea, but he now has to leave the chicken to marinade for an hour. What's he gonna do in the mean time? Fret most likely. He could go over to Susan's and ask her if she'd like to have dinner with him. The company would be nice and there's too much food for one anyway. Bogg can't even remember the last time he ate alone. That must have been a good twenty years ago. He could wait for Jeff and Kate to come home for dinner, but he doubts they'll make it. Last he saw of them, they were at some sort of carnaval and it looked like they were gonna stay. It made him sick. Here he was, worried, watching them over the Omnitron, and there they were, carefree, taking rides in big wheels. Well, at least Kate looked very uncomfortable in the big wheel. Which serves her just right. Darn kids. He was so annoyed with them that he didn't even want to know anymore what they were up to next and left his station at the Omnitron.
------
To his surprise Bogg doesn't find Susan at her house. Poor girl, always working. Voyagers should really start recruiting more administrative personnel to take some of the work load of the ones they've got; before those start to buckle under the strain.
The door to Susan's office is open. She herself is hidden behind a pile of dossiers. The knock on the door startles her.
"Phineas." Her smile is a little nervous.
"Burning the midnight oil again?"
"Oh, you know me. Always thinking things can't wait another day."
"You should take a leaf from my book occassionally."
"I thought the leaves in your book said things like 'there's no time like the present'?"
"Yes, those are the leaves I want you to take. I don't want them anymore." He shifts his weight uneasily.
"Phineas, are you all right?"
"No." Phineas looks up at her. "Jeff used to complain a lot that we were never taking any holidays or such. And now he's out there, with Kate, just taking holidays. It's like his trying to get back at me."
"I'm sure it's not because he's angry with you that he's not back yet."
"Then what is it that's keeping them?"
"I -- I don't know. Maybe Jeffrey does need a holiday. That's reasonable after all he's been through. But if he'd been angry with you, wouldn't you think he would confront you with it?"
"He always used to," Bogg agrees. He nods slowly. "Talking to you always makes me feel better."
"I'm glad to help. Any more moral support I can give you?"
"Have dinner with me. I'm cooking."
Susan looks surprised. "What are you cooking?"
"Does it matter? C'mon, you need to eat. Y'ave dinner with me, and after that you can get back to your paperwork."
"Okay. You're right, I should eat. How else am I going to be a big girl?" she jokes. "I'll have dinner with you. Say, in about an hour?"
"Hour's good. See you then."
A little perked up Bogg returns to his cottage.
------
He feels the backing pan to see how the cooling of the rice is coming along. He always forgets to put it in some cold water to speed up the process. Not too late to do that now, he thinks to himself as he puts the plug in the sink and opens the cold water tab. He stirs the bowl of chicken again. The marinading is coming along nicely. Now to making the sauce to go with the satay.
Bogg takes one large clove of garlic, cleans it and cuts it lengthwise in two. With the tip of his knife he removes the core of the garlic. Someone once told him you get less garlicy breath if you remove the core. He always wonders whether that is true, but as many times he concludes that it doesn't hurt to remove the core, so why not? He chops the garlic very fine. Next up the onion. Chopping that into tiny bits brings tears to his eyes.
"Wouldn't want Susan to think I've been crying." He dabs the tears away with the sleaves of his shirt. "Why not?" She wouldn't think less of him if he'd been crying. She probably would put her arms around him and hold him. It would be nice if she held him. He muses over it. Very nice if she held him. He's been a widower for over ten years; already long ago it became okay for him to think about other women like that. But he shouldn't think of Susan in that way.
"Snap out of it. Susan is one of your oldest and dearest friends. You don't want to jeopardize that," he tells himself.
"No, I don't," he agrees.
"Return to your onion."
He fries the onion and garlic lightly in some butter, then adds a cup of peanutbutter and a cup of milk. He stirs these till he has a smooth, slightly thick sauce. He adds some brown sugar, lemon juice, sambal and ketjap to taste.
"Very nice."
He takes the sauce pan of the heat and puts on a frying pan. He heats some oil in the pan and quickly fries the diced chicken. He turns of the heat. He puts a lid on the pan to keep the chicken warm. He cleans cutting board and knife to make a cumcumber salade. Last he cuts the slab of now cold rice into cubes.
Dinner is ready. Time for Susan to come. As if she has been waiting for that cue by the door, Susan comes walking in.
"It all smells wonderful." She greets him with a peck on the cheeck.
"It tastes wonderful too. Sit, sit, so we can eat."
