Retrospective: Paris - How we met

2.3. Francesco De la Cruz - Invitation
Fall 1993, Mae's apartment

"Uh, it's a bit small, but sufficient", Mae said, when she entered her appartement with Francesco behind her. It was actually not only small, but tiny.

"Oh dang. I forgot something", she cried out suddenly, turning around, almost leaving already, but stopping abruptly on the way. "I gotta go down to the dépanneur before they close too."

"Uh – if you'd like to shower, now is a good time", she added, pointing towards the pink dotted curtain next to the bar.

"I'll be back in like 15 minutes", she added, while dropping a fresh towel on the bar. She didn't even let him reply, but just rushed though the door.

After hesitating for a few seconds, Francesco needed only five minutes. The hot shower was refreshing, but he still felt a bit uncomfortable spending the night here. He had no problem staying at Diego's or Suzette's place, even for a long time, but Mae was just a school girl that apparently just had enough place for herself. And she was so careless. He could have been god knows who, and she had invited him over just like that.
Francesco tried to push his worries aside. No matter what, he still preferred to take advantage of her naivety instead of sleeping on the street again. This part of the town was much less safe than where he had stayed the last time when he was homeless.

Mae opened the door with so much force, that he almost jumped. "Got it!", she cried out.

"And they even had peanut butter! Soooo lucky!", she went on, wrapping an apron around herself while dropping a small bag on the counter and taking out some kitchen tools of the counter.
Francesco was confused. "You're not really cooking now, aren't you..."
It was more a statement than a question.
"Huh?", she held on for a second. "Well, I still have to, for homework", she continued then, turning back to the kitchen supplies and food.

Watching Mae preparing and mix up a bunch of ingredients was quite entertaining, so Francesco moved over to the bar to have a better look. "It looks so easy when you're doing this", he said. He usually was quite clumsy in the kitchen, when he had to help his mother at home.

"Uh...", Mae hesitated a bit. "I had a lot of time to practice when I cooked for my family." She smiled warmly at the thought of them, then pointed over to the photos standing in the corner on the countertop.

One showed a group of four, a middle aged man and woman and two teenaged girls with red hair. On the second were the two girls again, but older. It was made more recently. Mae was smiling brightly, while the older girl, most likely her sister, looked a bit more shy.
"My mom was very sad after my dad died... so I thought food would cheer her up", Mae continued to chatter.
Francesco didn't really know what to say. He felt sorry for her, but Mae apparently didn't expect any reply.

"And Linda – that's my sister – I mean, she's really smart, like, she skipped grades in middle school, and high school, and got a scholar ship without even asking for it – now she's about to finish her master in botanical chemistry in Newcrest. Well, she's really smart, and sweet, but – Ugh! She's so impractical! She tried once to make pancakes for breakfast. She measured everything like, to the grain! I swear she would've counted the sugar grains if she could. I bet she even knows how many grains make an ounce..." Mae paused for a second, looking as if she was thinking if she knew it herself. "I had a hard time teaching her to loosen up a little... Now she makes awesome pancakes", she continued her monologue.

Francesco realized he was smiling. Mae's chattering was funny. While she kept talking, he thought of his own family. He was wondering how they were doing. When he left five years ago after finishing high school, he didn't give them any address or phone number. And he hadn't contacted them by himself ever.

He couldn't help but still feel mad at them for opposing his relationship with Diego. He knew now, that the relationship wasn't worth it, but it wasn't only because of Diego. He felt like they had rejected him, and it still hurt.

The noise of the plate Mae dropped in front of him pulled him out of his ponderings.
"Try this", she said. It looked delicious, and smelled so, too. Francesco just realized how hungry he was. "What's that?", he asked.
"Homemade gnocchi with parmesan sauce", she replied, with a hint of pride in her voice.
Francesco hesitated. He hadn't expect to get food.
"Come on, I need to know if I can cook this tomorrow, without embarrassing myself", Mae insisted.

He took a small bite, while Mae watched him anxiously. "How is it? Do you like it?"
He nodded.

"Uh, I'm so glad!", she sighed. It looked like she had kept her breath the whole time.

"Eat up", she smiled.
"Thanks", he murmured, barely audible for himself. Her smile was contagious.