Chapter Text
“Careful, the oven will still be hot, querido!” Azucena called out.
Ander waved a dismissive hand at her before grabbing a dishtowel and using it to open the oven. He bent down to survey its contents but soon closed it again, disappointedly declaring, “It’s still not ready.”
“That’s okay,” Azucena reassured him. “We can start with the salad.”
“But I wanted the rice to be ready as well. The salad is a side dish, Mum,” Ander complained.
He slumped into a chair at the dinner table next to the one his mother was seated on and wiped at his brow in frustration with the edge of the apron draped across his body. Azucena smiled lovingly at her son.
“How much water did you put in?” she asked.
“Omar told me three cups,” Ander muttered. He flapped the fabric of the apron around to reach into his back pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling him again.”
“What did you use to measure a cup?” his mother enquired patiently.
Ander looked around, raising a finger to point at the large coffee pot sitting on their countertop. “That. I figured it would be about a cup’s worth.”
Azucena’s eyes widened. “Ander, that’s way more than the standard measurement for a cup!”
“Ya. I see that now. The rice is all sticky and wet,” the boy replied dejectedly, activating the dialling pad on his phone. “Still, maybe Omar can help fix...”
Azucena touched his hand to stop him from dialling. She picked up the salad bowl and used a fork to begin decidedly piling leafy greens onto the plate in front of her. The table was set with white linen napkins accented in gold trimming. Shiny silver cutlery was nestled among the napkins and a bottle of red wine stood tall in the centre, right next to a garland of fresh red and white flowers.
“In the meantime, we can just have salad, love. Until the rice and chorizos finish cooking,” Ander’s mother was telling him gently.
Ander sighed. He had a glum expression on his face as his mother served him next.
“Will you stop being so dramatic?” Azucena scolded him lightly. “We’re not going to starve. The water will dry up. It’ll just take a little bit longer than expected.”
“I wanted tonight to be perfect, Mum,” Ander muttered, hanging his head. He picked up his fork and stared at the greens on his plate.
He continued, “You’ve done so much for me in the last few months, put up with me when I was being a stubborn bastard. I just wanted to cook you a nice dinner to say thanks.”
Azucena cleared her throat. When Ander looked back up at her, tears were glistening in her eyes.
“Come on, Mum! Don’t start crying, now. That’s the last thing I need,” he said.
His mother gave a choked little sob and smiled at him. She reached for his hands again, taking them in both of hers. Her eyes filled with love, she regarded him fondly and said, “Ander, I’ll always be by your side. I’ll always support you. You know that.”
Ander gave her a tiny answering smile, nodding quickly with his mouth pressed firmly closed as a sentimental lump formed in his throat. He didn’t trust himself to speak so he silently removed the apron he was wearing and draped it across the empty chair nearby before he speared some leafy vegetables onto the end of his fork.