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As soon as she opened the door, 14-year-old Malia heard the clattering of pots and pans.
Confused, she looked to her best friend, Ruby, who had joined her on the walk home. They both knew the store should still be open.
As they entered the kitchen, both girls’ eyes went wide at the sight before them. It looked like every pot, pan, and tray in the house had been pulled out. Among the chaos, stood David, eyes wide and hands passing back and forth between his face and his hips anxiously.
“Dad?” Malia asked slowly. “What are you doing?”
He turned his frantic eyes to her. “I’m gonna cook something for your dad.” His voice held about as much confidence as Malia’s did when she spoke to someone she was crushing on.
Namely, they both sounded like stuttering idiots.
Still confused, she pressed on. “What happened? What did you do?”
A child coming into their lives had forced both David and Patrick to step their game up in the kitchen. Now, they only ate about half of their dinners at the café, and even then, most dinners at home were predominately prepared by Patrick. There were a few basic meals David could make with ease, but overall, he still considered himself a disaster in the kitchen, and never participated willingly unless he knew for certain he couldn’t mess it up. Which was why Malia was convinced he must be trying to make up for some wrongdoing.
“I didn’t do anything,” David answered exasperatedly. "It’s just, it’s Valentine’s Day. And I thought I should do something for him for once.”
“Dad,” Malia began softly. It was true that her papa went all out when it came to birthdays and holidays. He was the master of the grand gesture. Still, that didn’t mean that David didn’t reciprocate. He had his own ways of showing his love.
In thanks for a romantic meal, he’d spend the evening massaging Patrick’s back and shoulders as they watched a Blue Jays game. For Malia’s birthday, he’d hunt down something she had mentioned wanting once, months before. He always remembered his family’s likes and dislikes and knew what they would appreciate. Still, he always felt he had to do more.
“Dad, you know you don’t have to do that. Papa knows you love him. He’d appreciate anything as long as it came from you.”
He huffed in frustration. “I know. I know he would. That man is so infuriating sometimes.”
Both girls tried to hold back their laughs.
“He’s infuriating because he doesn’t expect grand gestures from you?”
“YES!” He threw his hands up dramatically, causing both girls to finally break.
Once they got themselves somewhat under control, Malia pressed on.
“Okay. If you’re really set on this. What are you going to make?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he answered, looking from one empty piece of kitchenware to the next.
Taking seats at the counter, both girls surveyed the kitchen, thinking of options.
“Well,” Ruby spoke up. “You could always make a roast with potatoes and carrots. That’s always good.” That was one of the few meals David could cook with ease. Malia had lost count of how many times she had eaten that in her lifetime.
David was apparently on the same page as his daughter, shaking his head decisively.
“I can’t do that. We eat that all the time. That’s not worthy of Valentine’s Day, as commercialized a holiday as it may be.”
“Well,” Ruby pressed on. She and Malia had been best friends since they were little, and she always felt comfortable around the other girl’s parents. She felt she could speak her mind.
“Is there anything you can make that he hasn’t had before?”
David was quiet for a moment as he thought. A memory came to him, and although he tried to push it down, he knew it was the answer.
“Enchiladas,” he sighed. “I can make enchiladas.”
Malia looked at him in confusion. “Since when can you make enchiladas?”
He threw her his patented glare before answering.
“I’ll have you know,” he began defiantly. She could see his confidence returning, as tended to happen when someone questioned him. “About 6 or 7 months after we moved here, my mother and I made chicken enchiladas. And they were delicious.”
“You…and Grandma…” To say she had a hard time picturing her grandmother in the kitchen would be an understatement.
“Yes, believe it or not. My parents, sister, and I had come to the startling realization that none of us knew how to cook. Your grandma remembered an old chicken enchiladas recipe of her mother’s that she insisted she knew how to make.”
Both girls tried to hold in their giggles, picturing the Rose family matriarch convinced she could master enchiladas.
“And did she know how to make them?” Malia got out.
“Of course not,” her dad answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, making both girls laugh.
“But, after some mishaps, obviously, as well as a rather uncomfortable and unnecessary heart to heart, we tried again, and the enchiladas turned out pretty damn good.”
Malia smiled.
“Okay, then,” she answered decisively, clapping her hands together. “What do you need to make these enchiladas?”
“Well,” David began reluctantly. “I guess I gotta see if my mom still has the recipe.”
Malia grinned. Her grandmother was definitely a character, but one with a heart, and Malia loved that about her, but she knew she and her dad could push each other’s buttons.
As soon as he had relayed what he was planning, Moira stated that she was on her way over with the recipe and quickly hung up the phone.
“Ugh,” he groaned. He wasn’t ready for this.
“Um,” Malia began, casting a worried look out the window. “Dad, do you think Grandma should be driving?”
“It’s just down the street. I’m pretty sure everyone sees the car and knows to get out of the way at this point.” His parents were in great shape for their respective ages. Still, his mother was in her 80s now, his dad turning 90 later this year. They didn’t always realize, or want to admit, their limitations.
“By the way,” Ruby began, “What does your husband think you’re doing right now, Mr. Brewer-Rose?”
“He thinks Alexis is having some sort of crisis. She picked me up from the store.”
“And what is Aunt Alexis doing right now?” Malia pressed.
“Heading to Martha’s Vineyard with your uncle.”
“Gotcha.”
Before long, they all heard the familiar car pull up. Both girls ran to the door, David following behind. They watched as the always impeccably dressed Moira Rose emerged from the vehicle.
“Darling!” she called as she glided up the driveway, bringing her granddaughter into a hug.
David attempted to hide his smile. She really had come a long way.
“And…Malia’s friend.”
And in other ways, not so much.
The other girl laughed. She never took the Rose family’s eccentricities to heart.
“Good to see you, Mrs. Rose,” she greeted.
“David, darling.” She pulled him into his own hug before pulling back and extracting an old piece of paper from her bag. “I have brought the recipe you requested. Do you have the required ingredients, or do we have to make a trip?”
He quickly read through the list and knew that they’d have to drive into Elmdale.
“We gotta go to Brebner’s,” he sighed. He never enjoyed going back to that place.
As they all made their way to the car, he gracefully pulled the keys from his mother’s hand.
“But I am driving.”
It was a quick trip. They got what they needed and before they knew it, they were back home. As David compiled everything he needed, the other 3 gathered on the other side of the counter.
“What do we do first?” Malia asked excitedly.
“Yeah, we’d love to help,” Ruby added.
“Perhaps I could assist in curating a desirable ambiance…” Moira suggested.
David looked to the two girls. “I appreciate that you two want to help, but this is something I need to do myself. Why don’t you help your grandma with the…” he smirked as he glanced at his mother. “…ambiance?”
Malia let out a huff but resigned. She came over and placed a kiss on her father’s cheek.
“You got this, Dad. Let us know if you need anything.”
David worked diligently, a mantra running through his head of ‘You will not fuck this up. You will not fuck this up.’
He was so hyper focused that he paid no attention to the three females flitting in and out of his peripheral vision. Finally, it was time to place the enchiladas in the oven. As he closed the door, he looked up to see that his home had been transformed.
The dining room table was set with a deep burgundy table cloth and the good china they had received as a wedding gift. A delicate bouquet, flanked by two lit candles, sat in the middle.
There were more candles scattered throughout the living room, hallway, and kitchen. David briefly wondered if they had gone out shopping again and returned without him noticing.
His three elves were gathered in the living room, coats in hand as soft music played in the background.
“What do you think?” Malia asked. She was rocking back on her heels, trying to contain her excitement.
“It’s beautiful. You three really outdid yourselves. Thank you so much.” He hugged the two girls before turning to his mother.
“Thanks, Mom.” She preened as she pulled him into a hug of her own.
“If anyone deserves this, it’s you and sweet Pat.” She pulled back and cupped his cheeks.
“My boy.”
She gazed at the amazing man he had become for another moment before releasing him.
“Well, we’re off. I’m going to drop the girls at young Ruby’s house for the night before returning to my abode for my own night of romance.”
David winced at the thought.
“Will you call me when you get home so I know you made it safely?”
“I swear!” she called indignantly. “I once raced Phil Spector down the streets of Monte Carlo. I think I can make it to my own home.”
He gave her a look.
She huffed. “I shall inform you of my whereabouts,” she relented.
Soon enough, they were off and all that was left to do was wait for the enchiladas to be done.
Just as he was pulling the pan out of the oven, David heard the car pull into the driveway. He leaned against the entryway of the kitchen and watched with warm eyes as his husband made his way through the door. He stopped mid-motion, his coat hanging awkwardly from his wrists, as he gazed at the scenery laid before him.
His eyes finally landed on David, tears beginning to come to the surface.
Before he could get out a word, David came to him in a few long strides, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a deep kiss.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”
“David…” Patrick began as he let his coat fall limply to the floor. “How…”
“I wanted to do something special for you this year. You always go above and beyond for me and I wanted to be able to give something back.” Patrick opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but David held up a hand. “I know, I show you I love you in my own ways, and you appreciate those, but still. I wanted to…go out of my comfort zone. Do something that scared me a bit but something I hoped you would appreciate. Because I love you, and you deserve to be taken care of for a change.”
Patrick was in awe. He never imagined something like this. He was admittedly bummed earlier when Alexis had fetched his husband from the store, but he had no idea this was what it was for. He refrained from countering David with the reality that David did take care of him. All the time. He knew he was right, but he didn’t want to debate. Not tonight. He wanted to appreciate wholly what he was being given.
“So, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring the food out.”
Patrick smiled stupidly, still in amazement, as he took his seat.
“What are we having?” he called out in curiosity.
“Enchiladas,” David responded as he brought the tray out to the table.
“Wow!” Patrick said in amazement. The food looked delicious.
“Who made these?” he asked. He watched his husband glance down shyly.
“I did,” he answered, just above a whisper. Patrick’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he answered, once again unsure.
Patrick smiled warmly. “Well, I’m sure they’re great.” He raised his glass. “Happy Valentine’s Day, David.”
David smiled. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Patrick.”
They clinked their glasses and David watched anxiously as Patrick cut into his food and took his first bite.
“Oh my god,” he moaned, mouth full of cheesy goodness. He continued once he had swallowed. “David, this is amazing!”
David smiled, relieved, and dug into his own food. He regaled Patrick with the story of he and his mother making the enchiladas for the first time, Patrick practically crying with laughter, and with how his mother, Malia, and Ruby had helped today.
Once they were done, Patrick leaned back in his chair, his hands on his full belly.
“Well, I’m stuffed,” he stated with finality. He looked over at his husband, the love he felt for this man ready to burst out of his chest.
“Thank you, David. That was delicious.” He paused for a moment. “I’m so proud of you.”
There was so much behind those words, but David knew if he dwelled on it, he’d turn into a blubbering mess, and that’s not what he wanted for Valentine’s Day. Instead, he merely reached over and squeezed his love’s hand. “Thanks, babe. I’m glad you liked it.”
Patrick smiled, able to read him perfectly as always.
“Ready for your gift now?”
David nodded excitedly.
“I think it can best be fully enjoyed in the bedroom.”
David quickly followed Patrick with a glint in his eye, knowing that this was definitely a Valentine’s Day for the books.