The Bitter Taste of Deceit

The Bitter Taste of Deceit

“Are you sure you can cook an authentic teishoku meal?” Maggie looked at me with a doubtful expression.

“Of course I can. My grandfather on my mother’s side married a Japanese woman after the war. We had teishoku all the time growing up.” I lied. I don’t even know my grandfather on my mother’s side. I had to Google teishoku just to find out what it meant. I have never cooked anything authentically Japanese in my life (unless you count microwaving a twenty-five cent package of ramen noodles in the breakroom last week).

I had given just enough authenticity to my deception. Maggie’s face softened and a sly smile (God, she was gorgeous!) crept across her full lips. “You have been keeping secrets from me, you naughty boy.” She reached out and squeezed my arm. Whatever happened after this moment, it would all be worth it just to feel her warm palm pressed against my bicep and to hear her call me a naughty boy. I swear I almost passed out because all the blood rushed from my head to my groin.

“I promise that Friday night you will have a culinary experience you will never forget.”

“Well, I look forward to it. And just a warning. Don’t think you can re-plate some takeout and I won’t notice. I will be able to tell just from the smell. And believe me, nothing kills the mood faster than bad takeout food.” Her implication was crystal clear: no authentic food for dinner means no dessert for me after dinner. Maggie turned and walked down the corridor to her office. I lingered, watching her go. She was the kind of girl that looked just as good going as coming.

Back in my office, I shut the door and went to the phone. I dialed Chuck’s number and waited for the call to go through, remembering Maggie’s lips as they formed the words “you naughty boy”.

“This is Chuck. How may I do you?” Chuck, one of my oldest friends, had the most sophomoric sense of humor I have ever witnessed. In private, Chuck joked about everything from bowel movements to conjoined twins (and their bowel movements). In the kitchen, however he was a consummate professional; and integral to my plan.

“Chuck, it’s Frank.”

“Frankie-boy! How are they hanging? Light, tight, and still to the right?”

“Yeah, Chuck. I just wanted to make sure that you had everything you need for Friday night.”

“Oh, right! Nookey night with the paralegal down the hall. I can’t wait to meet her. I don’t know the Japanese word for ménage à trois, but I can look it up between now and then.”

“No way, Chuck. You gotta be long gone before Maggie gets there. She has to think I cooked the food.”

“Don’t worry, Frankie Boy. I’m just pulling your chain, man. Everything is set for operation Shag Mag.”

“Thanks, Chuck. I really owe you one.”

“It’s no problem. Just remember. I want all the details after the deed is done.”

“Well, if office gossip can be trusted, there should be plenty of details to share. See you Friday, Chuck.” I hung up the phone and leaned back in my chair. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what Maggie would be wearing Friday night. I just couldn’t believe that my plan was working. Ever since Maggie started with the firm last year I had been racking my brains trying to figure a way to get close to her. Last month I was in the office after hours trying to get ahead on some briefs for one of the partners. I was in the copy room, crouched down looking for a new toner cartridge in the cabinet under the copy machine. I heard voices in the hall and was about to stand up to see who it was when I heard one of them mention Maggie. I stayed on the floor and scooted closer to the door to better hear the conversation.

“I can’t believe her. Coming in here with her fake boobs and tight dresses, using her looks to get promoted ahead of us.” This voice sounded like Janice. She had been here for six years and had yet to receive a single promotion. Mostly because she was the most unpleasant person anyone had ever met.

“I heard that all anyone has to do to get her in bed is cook her a fancy meal with plenty of wine. After a three course meal she’d even give Frank Billings dessert.” Both voices laughed at that remark and I could tell from the cackle that the other voice belonged to Eileen who found herself pretty funny indeed. Honestly, I didn’t mind the joke at my expense because the information, as it turned out was spot on. I did a little asking around and found out that Maggie was indeed addicted to fine cuisine and she wasn’t shy about expressing her gratitude, if you know what I mean.

Friday night arrived. Chuck brought over the food and gave me the rundown on what everything was called and how it was served. “Alrighty! I’m not sure how much Blonde Hottie knows about teishoku, but you want to look like a culinary badass, right?”

“That’s the idea, Chuck.”

“Very well.” As he laid out the dishes on the table, Chuck’s personality changed completely. Gone were the bad jokes and innuendo. “Teishoku is a multi-course meal, but unlike Westerners, the Japanese place all the courses on the table together.” It was like watching a documentary on the Food Network. He had even written up some flashcards for me to study while I waited for Maggie to arrive. I flipped through them while he ran down the menu for me. He used a chopstick as a pointer. “The main dish is salmon broiled in soy sauce. I brought a bottle of very light rosé to accompany it.”

“This is miso soup. Miso soup can make or break a teishoku meal. If you don’t start with a good homemade dashi the flavor will be totally flat. I make my dashi with kombu kelp; it’s the best. After the stock boils, I add the miso which is a fermented soybean paste and the mushrooms. And just so you know how much I care about you, I used some nameko mushrooms from my personal larder — not the stuff we serve at the restaurant. These babies go for forty bucks a pound!”

“There are also two side dishes: a traditional Japanese salad and some tsukemono or pickled vegetables. Of course, the most important part of the meal is the rice” he said, uncovering a large dish in the center of the table. Steam rose from the white grains. “When you eat teishoku you move around the table sampling each course, but you always eat some rice in between. It’s tradition; also, it cleanses the palate.”

“Thanks again, Chuck. You are the master. Maggie is so out of my league. I’m just an underachieving paralegal; I never would have been able to get her attention without your help.”

“Don’t sweat it Frankie Boy. I take care of my friends and I consider you my best friend. You accept me — warts and all.”

“Oh man! Your genital warts are back? I am so sorry to hear that.”

“Touche!” Chuck came around the table and gave me one of his signature bear hugs — just long enough to make it uncomfortable. As he pulled away he said, “You don’t give yourself enough credit, man. You might feel like ‘just a paralegal’, but I know for a fact that there are partners at that law firm who will only work with you because you are the best. I am sure that this Maggie dame knows it and if you were a little more patient and were willing to start on the ground floor instead of jumping straight to the penthouse suite she would be totally into having a relationship with you.”

Chuck had gathered up all his food transportation paraphernalia and I walked him to the door. He gave me a wink and said, “Don’t get me wrong. I totally support skipping straight to the dirty and can’t wait for you to tell me everything” bless his perverted little heart, “but if you really like this chick you should take it slow and make it last as long as possible. I love you, man.”

“Coming from you Chuck, that means a lot. Thanks again. I will call you either tonight or tomorrow morning depending on how dinner goes.” I slapped Chuck on the back and shut the door behind him. I turned around and looked over the expanse of amazing food laid out for Maggie and me. I thought about what Chuck had said. I just couldn’t convince myself that I was good enough on my own for Maggie to give me the time of day. I sighed and busied myself setting the table for dinner. Just as I finished, Maggie arrived. I took her jacket and pulled out a chair for her at the table.

“Frank, everything just looks and smells so good!” Maggie’s eyes widened as I uncovered the dishes on the table. Until that moment I was still a little doubtful about the office gossip, but I could almost see her pulse quickening as she looked at the meal laid out before her. She obviously had a very strange relationship with food. All I could say was, what the Hell. I’m not a therapist and I am definitely not a saint. Let the games begin!

“Itadakimasu,” I said. Chuck had written it on one of his flashcards. Supposedly it was the Japanese equivalent of bon appetit. We had just started into the side dishes when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it and we continued eating, pausing between courses for some rice. The call went to voicemail and almost immediately my phone started to buzz again. Annoyed, I reached into my pocket and turned it off. Nothing was going to intrude on this evening.

I wasn’t sure how this dinner was going to go, but I was pleasantly surprised that Maggie actually wanted to talk to me. “I love your house,” she said. “I have been curious about you for quite some time. All the partners have such good things to say about you.”

I blushed. Thankfully, I had turned the lights down to enhance the mood. I said, “I had no idea. Why didn’t you ever talk to me?”

Now it was Maggie’s turn to blush. She pushed some nameko mushrooms around in her miso soup. “I don’t know. At first, it was because I was the new girl and was overwhelmed with getting to know the job. Later I was a little intimidated by you. You always seem so focused on work. I guess that’s why the partners are always fighting over you.”

I tried to play it cool and took a bite of the broiled salmon. I didn’t have to pretend to savor it — Chuck really knows his stuff. Sipping my wine I said, “Honestly, I would have dropped everything if I knew you wanted to talk to me.” And with that, the ice was broken. Maggie and I spent the next two hours talking, laughing, and enjoying the food and wine. We talked about music and books. We dished on everyone at the office — especially Eileen and Janice.

When we couldn’t eat another bite, I suggested that we retire to the living room and have some coffee. As I stood I said, “Just let me get the pot started and I’ll be right back.”

Maggie tossed her napkin onto her plate and said, “Let me come with you. I’d love to see your kitchen.” She stood and started around the table to accompany me. Before she could reach me, she stopped and leaned against the table for support. She seemed short of breath. She pitched forward, clutching her stomach. As she fell to the floor, striking her head on the side of the table I realized something was terribly wrong. I rushed to Maggie’s side and knelt, asking if she was alright. She did not respond. I brushed the hair away from her face. She was breathing shallowly and her face was beaded with sweat. An icy panic started to well up inside me and I had no idea what to do. I am not sure how long I knelt by her side, frozen with fear.

Suddenly I was being jerked away from Maggie and I turned to see that the front door had been kicked open, the door jam splintered. The hands that jerked me away from Maggie were now shaking me and I heard a voice that seemed to be coming from under water.

“Frank! Frank! How long has she been out?”

With extreme effort, I was able to focus on the voice and realized that Chuck was shouting in my face and shaking me violently.

“Chuck? Wha? How did you get here?”

“Frank. I have been trying to call you, man. It’s the mushrooms.The mushrooms.”

“No, Chuck. It’s Maggie. I think she’s sick or something.” My brain was slowly rebooting from the shock of seeing Maggie lying unconscious on my dining room floor.

“That’s what I’m telling you. When I got home, I got a call from the health department. The USDA issued a recall notice on the shipment that I bought my nameko mushrooms from when several people were hospitalized with listeria.”

“Listeria?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to come barging in here if nothing was wrong and spoil your night, but you wouldn’t answer your phone and I couldn’t wait any longer. I was standing outside your door when I heard the commotion. You wouldn’t come to the door so I kicked it open.” He looked sheepishly at the splintered door jam. “Sorry, Frank.”

“No. No. Don’t worry about that. We should probably call an ambulance.”

“I already did that. Paramedics should be here any minute. Man. You were kind of catatonic there for a while.”

“I didn’t know what to do…”

Just then there was a noise at the front door. “Paramedics! Sir, we are coming in. Make way.” A man and a woman rushed in and swooped down on Maggie. They checked her vitals as Chuck filled them in on the tainted shipment of mushrooms from Japan.

“We’ll need a gurney,” said the female paramedic.

The male paramedic, whose name tag read Tommy, jumped up and rushed out of the house. He retrieved the gurney faster than I thought was possible and he and the female paramedic, whose name tag I could not see, began to transfer Maggie from the floor. I was mortified to see that she had lost control of her bowels when she collapsed. They started an IV from a bag of clear fluid.

“Whose residence is this?” The female paramedic asked this as she looked from Chuck to me.

“It’s mine,” I said. I could see her name tag now. It read Eileen. A nervous giggle escaped me as I asked her if Maggie would be alright.

“She’s stable. She should be fine as long as we get her some antibiotics and keep her hydrated.” Eileen was all business. “Are either of you immediate family?”

“No.”

“Well, we are taking her to Midtown General. You can’t ride in the ambulance with us, but you will need to meet us there to help with the intake forms. Are you OK to drive?”

“I’ll drive him,” Chuck said. “He is definitely not OK to drive.”

“Alright. Come to the ER entrance and be as quick as you can. Tommy, let’s go.” The paramedics wheeled Maggie out of the house and down to the waiting ambulance.

Chuck put his arm around me. “Are you good to go or do you need a minute?”

“What a disaster, Chuck.”

“Yeah. Nothing kills the mood faster than when someone loses control of their bowels. Unless you’ve got a fecal fetish or something...you know what, I was in Germany once and I met this-”

“Chuck! I think we should go now.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

On the way to the hospital, I filled Chuck in on the dinner and how Maggie and I hit it off. “Everything was going so well.”

“It sounds like it would have been a homerun for sure. Too bad.”

“That’s the thing, Chuck. I wasn’t even thinking about that anymore. We were having such a good time just talking. I didn’t want it to end. Ugh! Now she won’t want anything to do with me!”

“Don’t be so hasty, Frankie Boy. If you’re there when she wakes up I bet she will be so glad to see you. I am sure she won’t hold this against you. It was an accident after all.”

“I don’t know, Chuck. It seems like more than I deserve.”

“Are you kidding? This has to be one of the most memorable first dates anyone has ever had.”

Chuck dropped me off at the hospital and told me to call him when I needed a ride home. I filled out Maggie’s intake forms the best I could. I found out that Listeria is one of the most unpredictable food-borne infections. Two people can eat the same infected food and only one gets sick. Symptoms can present within minutes or days and treatment can last as long as six weeks. I got permission to sit with Maggie in her room and was there the next morning when she came to. I chuckled to myself when I realized that I did end up spending the night with Maggie after all.

“Where…”

I leaned forward, taking her hand. “You’re in the hospital. I am so sorry. Some of the mushrooms from dinner last night were infected with listeria.”

She squeezed my hand and smiled. “Hi, Frank. How long was I out?” She seemed weak, but in good spirits considering I had just poisoned her.

I glanced at my watch. “It’s nine o’clock so you’ve been out for about...eleven hours.” I leaned forward. “Maggie, I feel just terrible. Can you ever forgive me?”

Still squeezing my hand, she reached over and patted it with her other hand. “This is nothing. Last year I ingested some pufferfish poison. Now that was bad news. Did you stay with me all night?”

“Yes. I have to admit that I was freaking out a little. I was sure that if I left you here alone, I would never see you again.” Against my will, I started to choke up and tears tracked their way down my cheeks. I suddenly became fascinated with my shoes and couldn’t look away from them for the life of me.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. You should go home and rest. If you promise to come and visit me before you go back to work on Monday, I will forgive you for almost killing me.”

Shocked and wide-eyed, I jerked my head up and met Maggie’s eyes. She couldn’t hold in the laugh and snorted in the most adorable way. “Ha. I got you good,” she said. She winced at the pain in her abdomen and leaned her head back on her pillow.

“OK, OK you got me. I’ll get some rest if you do too.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath and I could tell she was about to drift off. As I was standing up to leave, Maggie squeezed my hand again and said in a voice heavy with fatigue, “You still owe me a coffee Frank and I mean to collect.”