Chervil in the Soup Read online

Chervil in the Soup

  By Anne Spackman

  Copyright 2014 by Anne Spackman

  All rights reserved.

  Jonathan McIntyre was the head chef of Chez Davide. The days were going by so fast, and he seemed to be running solely on adrenaline. Cooking had always been his passion, and though he loved his career, he was getting more tired day by day. But he couldn’t go on vacation and leave the restaurant without its head chef. The other chefs were good chefs, but they just didn’t have the same drive and ability to manage the others that Jonathan seemed to have. And the restaurant was so successful, and had gained such an impeccable reputation through all of their hard work—Jonathan didn’t want to compromise Chez Davide and its reputation even for a day or let it and the other chefs down.

  So, Jonathan stayed working, day by day, and never took a vacation, and worked late on Saturday nights. He had Sundays off, but was on call. Jonathan was growing bug-eyed and had developed a slight facial tick from excessive consumption of caffeine and little sleep. He thought he was happy, and he was, but his work was an obsession that he wouldn’t give up for a second. His life was art—the art of food. And it had to be the best.

  When he went home, he ate simple things—oatmeal with dates chopped up and maple syrup, and sometimes made a five-star dinner if he was dating someone special, but it had been six months since he had had a girlfriend. He was just too busy to go out, and he worked Friday and Saturday nights.

  Jonathan trudged into his 2-bedroom apartment and snapped on the light. He took the food groceries into the kitchen and put them in the fridge and in the pantry. His apartment was decorated simply, and the furniture was forest green leather sofa and chairs, with Oriental rugs, a nice kitchen table, and dark oak bookshelves in the living room that were full of books he hadn’t read since college. Jonathan was now thirty-four. It had been a long road to becoming head chef from his graduation day from culinary school, which he had attended straight out of college—his BA was in French literature, as his mother was French—and that was in part why Jonathan had developed his love of fine cuisine. He had grown up in Saint Louis, Missouri, but had come to live in Chicago for college and had never left.

  That Sunday afternoon, Jonathan sat on the couch, watching a sports match of soccer, which he had once liked more than he did now. He still enjoyed it a bit, but not as he once had. He liked variety, and sometimes flipped the channels for hours just to see what was on and what was going on in America.

  Jonathan hadn’t seen the news in two years, other than brief important breaking news—which was something he wasn’t proud of, and he felt like a bit of an ostrich with its head buried in the sand. He was completely out of touch with what was going on in America, and in the world, other than what was going on in pop culture a little bit, but that Sunday afternoon he decided to catch up with the news for a change. He headed over to his computer in his office room and read for an hour and a half about current events.

  It was Jonathan’s ongoing philosophy—he wanted at times to escape from the news and just live a simple life, and at times to really try to grapple all that was going on, and to try to make more informed choices in his life and give thought to critical issues of the planet. It was hard to catch up. He was a hard-working man, with little time off, and he didn’t have the power to do anything about anything, really, except try to understand current events, and live his life his own way.

  A knock was heard on his door. He went to answer it.

  “It’s me, your new neighbor, Janet.”

  “Who?”

  “Janet,” came the reply. “You got a package yesterday that the postman left with me. Should I leave it here?”

  The door opened. Jonathan blinked. Janet was gorgeous. She was dressed in a blue dress, and was kneeling down a bit to put the package on the floor, so he could accidentally see her bra. She looked up suddenly and stood up, her hand flying to her dress to hold it to her chest.

  “Well, here it is. It’s heavy.”

  “Thank you, Janet. When did you move in?”

  “Last month. Next door, number 4B.”

  “Oh, ok. You want to come in for a minute?”

  “”I hardly know you,” said Janet.

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Jonathan. “Would you care to go for a walk and talk, then?”

  “Right now?”

  “Are you doing anything?”

  “No, not really—”

  “Then let’s walk to the park. It’s not far from here.” He put the package just inside the door, and grabbed his wallet and keys.

  * * * * *

  Janet drew male eyes on their walk, and Jonathan saw other guys looking at him with expressions of approval and perhaps jealousy. Janet was gorgeous. Her blond hair was bone straight and she had fine, high cheeks. The weather was beautiful, and the sun was shining.

  “Janet, are you from Chicago?”

  “I’m from Aurora, Illinois,” she said.

  “Ah.”

  “And your name is Jonathan—I read it on the package. How long have you been in Chicago?” She asked. He thought back.

  “About sixteen years now,” he said, surprised. “Wow. Has it really been that long?” he thought. “Would you like to catch a film this afternoon?” He hadn’t seen a film in the cinema in over a year.

  “Sure.” She said, and was happy to go. They watched an action-adventure film that was really long, and went out for dinner—but not to Chez Davide—just to a small, local, family-run restaurant. Janet ordered a vegetarian dish, and Jonathan a T-bone with side dishes and a salad.

  “Do you know, I never noticed the last neighbors had moved out.”

  “Well, it’s nice to have met you finally, Jonathan.”

  Unfortunately, however, as the night wore on, Jonathan realized that though he was inordinately attracted to Janet, because she was just that beautiful, they really didn’t have much in common. He guessed it didn’t matter, and that he could learn more about her, and maybe she would want to learn more about him as well.

  They called it a night by 9 p.m. that night—both of them had to be up early.

  “Take care, and good-night, Jonathan,” said Janet.

  “Good-night, Janet.” Said Jonathan.

  * * * * *

  When he left Chez Davide Monday night, all Jonathan could think of was that he was hoping to run into Janet on the way in. But of course, by 11p.m, she would already be asleep. He sighed. Oh well.

  He hadn’t eaten yet and decided to skip dinner and just sleep. By the next morning, he looked into the mirror and saw that he had circles under his eyes and felt as though his skin was looking dreadful. The feeling he felt then was deflated, so he went and ground some gourmet coffee, got himself a bowl of oatmeal, and turned on the radio to listen to it while he ate. He got dressed quickly, hurried to the car, and stopped. Janet was walking outside and coming in the building.

  Jonathan felt strange temptations at that moment that were just not the right time for him to be feeling them. He sighed. “Janet, would you like to pop round where I work today?”

  “Me? Today?” she asked.

  “Sure. Do you work today?”

  “Monday is my day off. I work at a boutique nearby.”

  “Then come and have lunch at my restaurant.” He said, and passed her a card.

  “All right, she said.”

  * * * * *

  Work was pandemonium.

  “Too much chervil in that soup,” Jonathan complained. “Scratch it. The Mornay sauce is a bit burned, get rid of it and start over. Melanie, you didn’t garnish that plate—”

  He found he had raised his voice again and stopped. Janet! He realized she
might be there already.

  “Hold the fort for a minute. I’ll be back,” he said, and he washed his hands and popped his head round the corner to survey the restaurant. Sure enough, Janet was sitting at a table, looking around. Their eyes met, and she smiled.

  Jonathan called to the waiter, Jared. “You made sure she gets anything—on me.”

  Jared nodded. “I remember what you told me. So far, she’s just ordered a drink.”

  “Good. Take good care of her,” said Jonathan. He made eye contact with Janet and smiled, then nodded as though he had to leave. He returned to the back, and then came back twenty minutes later, removing his apron and hat to visit Janet for a few minutes.

  “How did you like your lunch?” said Jonathan.

  “Are you really head chef here? Well, it was delicious,” enthused Janet. She had worn an elegant silk dress and her hair up in an uptwist.

  “What did you order?” asked Jonathan.

  “Eggplant and rice with vegetables. I’m a vegetarian.”

  “Oh,” said Jonathan. Of course this was ok with him in a sense, but he was a trifle disappointed that this meant she wouldn’t be able to try some of his finest creations. “I am glad you enjoyed it.”

  “You are sweet, having me come for a nice lunch.” Said Janet with a smile. “Though sometime it would be nice to sit with you again,” she said.

  “Yes, it would,” he agreed. “Well, I have to get back, but have a great day, and if I don’t see you for a while, which would break my heart, then take care.” He reached forward, took her hand, and kissed it.

  “Good-bye, Jonathan.”

  * * * * *

  It was two weeks later before Jonathan had time to see Janet again. Their schedules were such that they never saw each other. Then, on Sunday, which Janet had off this week—though Jonathan only discovered this later—Jonathan decided to chap her door.

  “Janet, are you home? It’s me, Jonathan.”

  She came to the door in a nightgown. “You’re up early,” she said. The door was only open a crack.

  “Yes, I guess so. What are you doing today, may I ask?”

  “Nothing much. I’m off work today and tomorrow.”

  Jonathan brightened. “Would you like to go out and do something together again?”

  “Sure, but I haven’t had my breakfast. If you come back in an hour, I’ll be ready, and we can do whatever you want. Well, not whatever—”

  “I understand what you meant,” he laughed.

  An hour later, he returned, and Janet came out in a yellow sundress and sandals. “I hope this is ok.” She said.

  “You look nice,” he said. “I want to take you to the museum. A friend has an art show today as well, and we can stop and make an appearance. Then, whatever else you want to do.”

  “All right, I had no plans.” She said.

  They went to the The Art Institute of Chicago first for an hour, then on to the art show, where Jonathan’s friend met them and showed them around the collection. Afterwards, Janet decided she wanted to go to the Chicago Water Tower, an indoor mall, to walk and wander. So they did.

  Jonathan realized that since he had met Janet, he had felt better and had started sleeping better. But the things he had imagined they would do might keep him from sleeping as much in the near future, if he was lucky. Still, no matter what, Janet was fun to be with, and they enjoyed their day together.

  “May I kiss you?” said Jonathan after they returned home to the apartment complex, and they were standing at her door.

  “It’s a bit early, but I suppose so, yes,” said Janet. And they kissed. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Sure,” he said, without hesitation. Her apartment was a smaller one-bedroom, as it turned out, with little décor. She had a framed poster on the wall, and all of her shoes were at the entranceway. She liked high heels, it seemed. He felt a rush of good feelings just looking at the girly things in the apartment.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked. “I have wine, and vodka. I don’t drink beer.”

  “A vodka on the rocks, then,” he said. She brought him one later. They listened to music—contemporary and classical for an hour, just sitting on the couch and kissing. Jonathan ended up spending the night, and woke up the next morning in Janet’s room, staring at the ceiling and wondering how he had ever managed to be this happy.

  Their relationship lasted exactly a year and two months. Jonathan bought Janet a bouquet of flowers on their year anniversary, and a lovely necklace with a pretty stone pendant. In the end, they cared for each other, but didn’t have much in common, and though Jonathan really liked being with Janet, they knew they didn’t have much to say to each other. However, they remained friends even after they broke up.

  The day that Janet left Chicago to move to Los Angeles, Jonathan helped her pack up all of her stuff in boxes, and even helped her rent a U-Haul and get everything into it for her drive across country.

  “Take care, girl,” he told her, and gave her a hug, which felt nice. He lingered holding her

  “You, too,” returned Janet. “I hope to see you sometime.”

  “You inviting me for a visit to LA?”

  “You never know,” she said. “I won’t forget you, anyway. Find someone to make you happy,” she said. “I will miss you.”

  “Aw,” he said, with a grin. “Thanks, I’ll miss you, too, and how you always sing in the shower. Good-bye, and good luck.”

  “Good-bye, Jonathan,” she said, and waved as she got into the U-Haul.

  And as he watched her go, he realized that he was glad he had met her.

  It was a lovely spring afternoon, and Jonathan decided, as the U-Haul sped off, that it was time for a run.