How It Feels to Fly(59)

My challenge is next. I was anxious about it yesterday, and I should be even more anxious about it today. But I’m not. I’m the calmest I’ve been since arriving here. I’m actually optimistic. I haven’t felt optimistic about anything in months.

And a lot of it’s because of Andrew. Pushing me to push myself, last night. Meeting me as I came down the stairs today, black coffee in hand. Telling me I can get through anything. When he says it, I feel it. He makes me stronger. Better.

He lifts his hand, shading his eyes from the sun. The way he’s lit right now, it’s like he’s glowing. Radiating. And when he smiles in my direction, it’s hard to see anything else.





twenty-one


THE FIRST THING WE HAVE TO DO WHEN WE ENTER the campus café’s kitchen is put on aprons and chef hats. Like, the tall white puffy hats you see in the movies. Then we have to wash our hands. A lot. When I’m done scrubbing, Dr. Lancaster takes me into the pantry to speak in private.

“Do you know why you’re here, Sam?”

I look around at the shelves of cooking supplies. I felt fine as we were walking here, but now the first tendrils of anxiety are slithering in. “Because I have some, um, food issues. But I don’t see how—”

“Andrew tells me you’ve been helping him with breakfast in the mornings.”

“Yeah. I’m usually up early, so I thought, why not pitch in?”

I don’t mention that I’m up early because I don’t want to shower or get dressed with anyone else around. Or that I’m actually helping with breakfast to be with Andrew.

“But as we’ve discussed, you have a hard time eating a lot of what we serve.”

I nod, wary. “This challenge is about cooking, right? Not . . . eating?”

“Do you feel better eating when you know all the components of your dish? When you can assemble it yourself? For instance, at a salad bar?”

“I guess so. Maybe.”

“Do you tend to think of some foods as ‘good’ and others as ‘bad’?”

That one’s easy. “Yes.”

“What if you knew what ingredients were in the ‘bad’ food? What if you knew how the same portion sizes of different foods compared, in terms of nutrition? Eating healthily doesn’t have to mean stress and deprivation. Learning to cook can help you take back some of the power food has over you.”

“Okay. . . .” Now I’m really feeling anxious. I want to get on with the challenge. Or skip it entirely. Dr. Lancaster leads me back into the kitchen. Everyone’s waiting. So is a pan of lasagna.

How did she know?

Lasagna is one of my mom’s biggest no-way foods. And I used to love it.

Make good choices, Samantha.

“Sam?” Dr. Lancaster puts her hand on my shoulder.

I find my words: “Do I have to eat that?”

“Not yet. First, you’re going to learn how to prepare it.” Dr. Lancaster introduces the middle-aged woman who will be leading the session. “This is Lisa. In addition to being one of my associate psychology professors, she teaches cooking classes as an elective in the health department.”

“Thanks, Debra,” Lisa says, stepping forward. “So, we’re all going to make lasagna today. We’ll eat some for lunch, and we’ll donate the rest to the science department’s all-faculty meeting tomorrow.”

They can have it. I don’t want it.

Yes, you do. You crave it. You want every last calorie.

Lisa sets each of us up at a station on the counter, complete with a cutting board, a knife, a lasagna pan, and a basket of vegetables and other ingredients. I’m right next to her. Andrew takes the spot on my other side. I try to focus on his calming presence, not how shaken up I feel.

“Rule number one!” Lisa booms. “No playing with knives. A knife is not a toy.” She points at Zoe, who was already brandishing her chef’s knife. Zoe smirks at her but puts the knife down. “Rule number two!” Lisa goes on. “Follow my instructions. I’m really not in the mood to get food poisoning today.”

Dominic snorts. Katie laughs too, but when we make eye contact across the shiny metal counter, she mouths, You okay?

I nod.

“We’ll begin by chopping our vegetables. We have carrots, eggplant, zucchini, and spinach. Everything but the spinach gets cut up.” Lisa pulls out a carrot and begins slicing. Her cuts are fast and even.

“You’re like an Iron Chef!” Omar says, sounding delighted.

Lisa beams. “I’ll tell Bobby Flay you said so.”

“I love the Food Network,” Omar tells Dominic. “Do you ever watch Chopped?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s this show where four chefs have to compete, but they don’t find out the ingredients until the moment the challenge starts. . . .”

I tune him out. I tune all of it out. I select a zucchini. I begin cutting it slowly, methodically, into slices. I find myself counting as I go, under my breath. Twenty-three zucchini circles. The carrots are next. The first one makes seventeen slices, and the second makes twenty-six. The repetitive motion is nice. Chop, chop, chop, chop. I can almost forget that this is food.

But when we start layering noodles and sauce and cheese and veggies, it starts to look like the thing I’m dreading. I’m trying to follow instructions, but it’s hard for me to put on as much cheese as Lisa wants. Even though it says “light” on the package, I keep trying to skimp. But Lisa catches me.