The radio was perched on the windowsill and echoed the presenter's voice against the tiles. Erica rested her head on the clam pillow she used in the bath and made a mental note to inflate it again before next time.
"Our topic this evening," said Khanya, "is whether we truly are alone in the universe. Recent news reports about Stephen Hawking's multi-million dollar investigation into space has garnered all kinds of responses. And not all of them are supportive. Give us a call on our hotline and tell us what you think. Are we alone? Or will Hawking find alien life and shock us all? We'll be back after these messages with the first callers."
There was bound to be backlash, Erica thought, especially since there are purists who disagree with the idea that aliens exist. She did not mind either way if alien life was found. As long as they did not attack Earth as they did in the movies, or try to use her to birth their spawn, she didn't see how it would really affect her life. She reached across to the window and switched off the radio. After the day she'd had, she was in no mood to listen to more inane chatter. She inhaled the lavender and slid deeper into the bubbles. An old song jingled in her head: I'm going to wash that man right outta my hair. She snorted. It was never that simple.
Luke was chopping onions. The kitchen was an orchestra of cacophany as Frederic shouted orders, Mario muttered gypsy curses and Elena pirouetted over her pastries. While the recipe did not call for onions -- all right, they were shallots -- he needed to do something to keep his hands busy and avoid Frederic's wrath.
"Five minutes ago I call for the soufflé, Mario. It is seven minutes. How long how long how long how long how long?"
"I tell you we finish in three minutes. So use your fingers to count, eh?"
"How long how long how long how long?"
"Shut up in your face, chef." Mario plated the soufflés and garnished them. He marched to the service table and dumped them there.
Frederic called to the waiter. "You tell the patron if this soufflé is less than hundred percent, they come here and hit Mario."
The waiter rolled his eyes. "Which table?"
"Table four. And hurry. It is basically snow-fflés now."
Luke did not dare to turn around. He listened to Mario and Frederic's passionate banter -- nobody bothered to call it fighting or they would have to sit through another conflict management seminar on their day off.
"What's on your mind, Luke?" Elena was embellishing her pear and goat's cheese creation with flecks of white chocolate. She glanced at him before correcting the placement of the gold leaf on one.
"What makes you think there is something on my mind?"
"You have demolished a kilo of onions, for starters." She took the dishes to the fridge and left him to stare at the pile of shards. "Let me guess: Erica?"
He didn't need to respond for her to know she was right.
The hairdryer sounded tinny and she held it away from her to check for anything untoward. One of the elements was glowing and she hoped it didn't mean her hair would catch fire. It was the last thing she needed. She was still smarting after her conversation with Luke, the one where he asked her to give up her job and open a B & B with him. Why should she be the one to make the sacrifices all the time? Four years they had been together and not once had he made any move to commit. Her mother had given up asking when she could put the engagement notice in The Times. And now, out of the blue, he had taken her to dinner on his one night off and told her to move to the back of beyond. She threw her head forward and splattered the mirror. The hairdryer seemed to have more staying power than Luke. She couldn't believe his gall.
"It will be fun," he said, "you and me and our B & B. I'll run the kitchen, obviously, and you can man the reception, bookings and yell at the housekeeper." He had laughed then, at the image of a shouting Erica in his mind.
"But what about my job, my family? You can't expect me to give it up?"
"I don't see it like that. It's more a change of scenery."
"To a town in the middle of nowhere, Luke. Are you insane?" She stood and stormed out. It was not until she was in an Uber taxi home that she let herself cry. The driver had been only too grateful to drop her off and waved away a tip. Exhausted and dehydrated, she crawled into bed and smudged her make-up all over her pillow. Damn him.
"So Lukie, you are making onion plans?"
"No, Frederic."
"Why all the chopping? Do you need an excuse to cry?"
"No, Frederic."
"You will pay for the waste, Lukie. I need two orders of steak cooked to medium rare perfection in six minutes, yes?"
"Yes, Frederic."
"Eh, maybe you can make onion crackling for the garnish? Then there is no waste."
"Thank you, Frederic." He whipped out the rump steaks and slathered them in olive oil, salt and white pepper. Two sprigs of rosemary waited on the bench. He dumped a knob of butter into another pan and began flipping the chopped onions. The steak seared on the griddle and he went into autochef mode, which was his version of autopilot. After five minutes, he turned off the steaks to let them rest. The onions were browning beautifully and he let them crisp in the pan.
"I never get tired of watching you do that," said Elena. "It's like you love the food. You handle it as though it's precious."
It took him a moment to register that she was talking to him. "Thanks. I wish Erica felt the same way."
"What's going on with the two of you? I thought you were happy."
"So did I. But she seems to want more."
"You've been together, what, four years?" She retrieved two platters for the steak and placed them in the warmer.
"Thanks. Yes, around four years."
"And you're not married?"
"Two more steak, Lukie. Same as before. Quick quick quick quick."
"Yes, Frederic. No, we're not married. Why is that even an issue?"
"Perhaps you should ask her." Elena retrieved the warm plates, let Luke dish up and delivered the steaks to Frederic.
To anyone observing Luke, it would appear that he was still in autochef mode, but on the inside he was wrestling with Elena's observation.
"Another four steaks, Lukie. Six minutes, and hurry."
Her curiosity got the better of her, and when Erica got into bed she turned the radio back on. The show was nearly over.
"Well, it has certainly been interesting to hear all the views our listeners have about alien life this evening. I think that, whatever happens, we should try to keep an open mind. Professor Henry Fielding and Doctor Sanda Mbau, thank you for joining us. Professor, any final thoughts?"
"I think we should consider the possibility that some of us are already alone in the universe, Khanya. I believe that it's important for us to connect with the humans around us before we go looking for extra-terrestrial life."
"Good point, thank you Professor. And you, Dr Sanda?"
"I absolutely agree with the Prof. Unless we practise tolerance and its big brother called loving kindness, I doubt that, as a species, we will be ready to embrace aliens. If you can find just one person who makes you feel less alone because they appreciate you and want to build a future with you, then you can count yourself lucky."
"What a profound way to end the show. Thank you, both. I must admit I am rather tempted to dig up my old X-Files DVDs, if only to gawk at David Duchovny while he saves us from the unknown. Good night, and thanks for listening."
The station jingle jolted Erica out of her reverie. She turned off the radio and clicked off the light. Sleep claimed her as soon as her head touched the pillow.
It had been a busy service and Luke's onion crackling was a hit. He was cleaning up his station with Elena's help and drying the last of the pans.
"Good night, everyone. Nice going." Frederic gave his closing speech before they prepared to leave. "Tomorrow night is that stupid holiday of the Valentines, so we can expect lots of puddings, yes Elena, and lots of seafood for the hormonies..."
"You mean pheromones," said Mario.
"That is what I say. And also we have a big load of champagne coming in the morning for the frizzante starter I will oversee with your help. Many engagements and broken hearts tomorrow, so we will need a dish to feed them all."
"My dessert will let them eat their feelings." Elena winked at Luke.
"Now, go to sleep because tomorrow is no more Mister Nice Guy."
"When are you ever nice?"
"Don't start, Mario."
"Eh, you started it."
"Shut up."
"Shut up in your face."
Luke removed his whites and dumped them in the laundry bag. His head was full of Erica.
"Hey, Luke. Good luck."
"Thanks, Elena. Do you want a lift home?"
"It's OK. Dmitri is waiting."
"Great. Good night."
Fifteen minutes after she switched off the light, Erica sat up to the sound of banging on her front door. She wondered how they had managed to get into the building and why the hell they were making such a noise. She wrapped herself in her gown and shouted in the direction of the door. "All right, all right." She undid the lock but left the chain on.
"It's me."
She shut the door and then let him in. "It's late."
"I know." He fiddled with his keys. "I chopped a kilo of onions tonight."
"I don't have time for this, Luke. I have to be up in the morning for work."
"Let me finish. I chopped a kilo of onions tonight and I couldn't figure out why you weren't as excited as I am about the B & B idea. And then I realised it's because you don't see it the way I do."
"Well you clearly see me as a ranting receptionist."
"That's not it. You don't see this as my asking you to build a life with me."
Erica felt chills along her forearms. "What?"
"It was my clumsy way of saying I want to be with you always, Erica." He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a ring. "For as long as we both shall live."
"Are you nuts?"
"Maybe." He held the ring to her. "What do you say?"
Her head was spinning faster than Jupiter on its axis. "No."
"Sorry?"
"Luke, I don't want to build a life with you. We're all wrong for each other. Just the fact that you asked me to give up my life made me want to run for the hills."
"I'm not asking you to give anything up or change what we have. I am asking you to marry me."
"I am so confused. What about the B & B?"
"As I said, that was my weird way of trying to find out if you saw a future with me."
"So you don't want to open a B & B?"
"Not at the moment, no."
"But you do want me to marry you?"
"Yes. And to promise to love me. And to let me love you and make you feel cherished. Because without you, Erica, I am alone in the universe."
She dropped her head into her palms. "This is one of those weird waking dreams I've read about. That will teach me to listen to the radio before bed." He was still there when she looked up. "Luke, go home. Then tomorrow, when I'm awake and thinking clearly, I will give you a call. This is all too strange."
His shoulders slumped. "Will you at least keep the ring while you think it over?"
"Okay." It was so sparkly that she couldn't help herself. "Good night." She pushed him into the hallway and shut the door.
Luke stared at the number painted on the wood for the longest time. It seemed he was the king of the perfect steak but he couldn't catch a break in the romance department. He plunged his hands into his pockets and trundled to the lift. The hallway was deserted. The lift door opened and he stepped inside. He was about to push the button when he hesitated.
"Wait. Luke." She was breathless. "Don't go."
He stepped into her arms and breathed in her lavender scent.
"Don't go."
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