“Hey, where did you put the knife?”
“Which one?”
“The big flat one for chopping veggies.”
“Should be in the knife block by the sink.”
“I don’t see it.” I peered over and saw the empty slit in the block. The other knives could do in a pinch, I guess.
“Is it not in the dish rack?”
“No.”
“Dunno then. Maybe misplaced somewhere.”
“Yesterday, I remember using it.”
“So it’s on you, then.”
“No, I put it in the rack.”
“I dunno, girl.”
I sighed. My memory can’t be that bad. I opened the dish rack again, leaning forward to scan the farside of the rack. It was too dark to see. I flicked on its light. Nothing. Bowls, wooden spoon, a bento lid. I did the same for the bottom. No luck.
Closing the door, I settled for one of the smaller ones. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, though it was finicky if there was too much to cut. I flattened the stack of scallions into one row, spreading it across the entire board.
“Say, isn’t Kiera supposed to be over?”
“She’s got preparations to do for the party tomorrow.”
“Right.” Chop, chop. “Ah, well, weren’t we going to do that together? Why not get together?”
“Beats me. Lazy, perhaps.”
“I would go over to her place if I knew.” I pushed the bits to the side and threw out the bulbs. “Maybe after dinner, we go surprise her?”
I heard her shift around on the noisy futon from the other room. “Sure,” she grunted. There was a thump on the floor, and I heard her sigh, shifting again. Probably her book.
I washed my hands and dried them. Dropping the towel on the counter, I went to the door and opened the top drawer. I dug around for my phone and flipped it open. It was dead. Digging around some more, I pulled out a cord and plugged my phone to the wall outlet. It’s what I get for hardly using it, I guess.
“Did you hear back from Rena about my discs?”
“Why would she message me?”
“Just curious. This whole time, my cell phone was dead, so maybe instead she called you.”
It was getting dim without the sun. I reached for the light switch only to realize it was on already. It seemed much dimmer than it should be.
“She hardly ever messages me. What about your discs?”
“I let her borrow them, but I need them for the party.”
“Just turn on your phone.”
“I know. It will be some time before I can.” The battery was not great.
I turned on the stove and set a wok on top. A puzzled face came across as I reached into the corner and realized the cooking oil wasn’t there. Glancing all around the counter, I didn’t see it. Opening up all the cabinets, I didn’t find it. Another item I could not find.
Just as I opened my mouth, I caught a glimpse of the unmistakingly yellow bottle behind the pane of glass. It was inside the dish rack. I frowned as I opened the door and pulled out the bottle. Did I somehow place it in there while I was searching around? I didn’t say anything and closed the door.
Pouring a spiral of oil, I dropped in the garlic and began to hum. “Haru said she had something special prepared for this year.”
“Heh. She says that every year.”
I opened a drawer. “But she does deliver on that promise every year.”
“Is it special if we come to expect it?”
I didn’t feel the wooden spoon. Looking down, I saw it in the far right compartment. Shion must’ve put it in the wrong spot. “I still think it is. She prepares something different each time.”
“Food is food,” she laughed.
“Hey, I think it’s more than that,” I giggled, stirring the garlic back and forth. “You need to appreciate the consideration she puts into her recipes.”
“I’m not trying to be a downer on that. I’m just saying it isn’t a surprise if I know it’s going to be food.”
“Whatever you say.” I reached up to the stove hood and flipped the switch. The fans did not turn on. Instead, the stove lights turned off. Surprised, I looked up, mimicking my hand gesture from before. I had hit the right side switch instead of the fan. I switched the lights back on, then turned on the fans.
Wait, is that right? I thought. I could have sworn the light switch was the left and the fan was the right. Now that I thought about it, I don’t usually pay attention to that detail. It’s become muscle memory at this point; or at least I thought it did.
I picked up the steel pot and dropped in the watercress one handful at a time. Combined with the heat, its moisture made it sizzle, filling the apartment with the crackle of fireworks. I turned up the heat and slowly shuffled the veggies in the wok. From the other room, I heard a muffle of words.
“What’s that?” I raised my voice.
“What?”
“… Ah, I thought you said something. Nevermind.”
The veggies sizzled some more and the noise eventually died down. Once the leaves shrank enough, I was able to stir with ease. I contemplated some more about what I still need to do before tomorrow’s party.
Reaching up to the right-hand cubby, I ran my fingers across the jars of spices, examining them for the one I needed. Pink salt, pink salt. I squinted, and double checked the row, moving the jars around to check behind them. This place is a mess, I thought.
I went to the sink cabinet and settled with the jar of plain table salt. Sprinkling a teaspoon in a spiral, I made sure to put the jar back where I found it. Then I stirred some more, humming again. I reached for the cutting board.
“This weekend, after the party, we should clean the kitchen.” I couldn’t find the knife, so I brushed the scallions into the wok using my hand. “It’s been a while since the last time.”
No response. It’s no surprise she was not thrilled with the idea. “Dinner’s ready.” Setting down the board, I did one last round of stirring and tested the taste.
It was sweet. That’s odd. Why was it sweet?
I had an idea. I took out the salt jar again and dabbed my finger inside. Tasting it, I realized it was sugar. I set down the jar and went to other cabinet above the cubby. Staring up at the second shelf, there was the other jar. I took it down and hastily tasted it, but I knew before it reached my mouth that it was not salt. It was too late, and I immediately coughed. It felt like a powder. A tasteless substance; probably flour.
I turned off the stove. “Shion, are you playing pranks on me again?!” No response from the other room. I marched over, still trying to get rid of the dry taste from my mouth. “Of all places, the kitchen is the worst place to play games on…”
The room was dark. Only the table lamp was on. She normally spent the evenings like this. Slouched on the futon, reading her book in such a moody setting. But she wasn’t there. Her book laid open on the floor.
I sighed. Where has she gone? And went to the bedroom. It was dark as well. Peering inside, I didn’t see her there either. “Shion?” I strode to the bathroom. It was open. She wasn’t inside.
Now I was confused. There weren’t any other rooms is our small apartment. Going back to the kitchen, I didn’t see her either. Was she hiding from me? “Shion, this isn’t funny,” I chided. “Did you replace the salt with the flour?”
Still no response. Only the whirling of the stove hood’s fans. I flicked the switch, then listened. But the fans were still on. I turned off the lights instead. I flashed a glance back up at the hood. The left switch was down, and the right switch was up. I had hit the light switch again.
Wait, I thought. I could have sworn that… I remember that the light is the left and the fan is the right. But earlier, it… Now I was utterly confused. I paused as I reached up to the switch. Then I finally flicked it, turning off the fans. The space was now silent.
I crept back to the sitting room. I still didn’t see her. I quickly and quietly looped back to the kitchen. Then to the bedroom. Back to the sitting room. Then to the bathroom. I was alone.
I went back to the bedroom and flung the covers off. I jumped back, half expecting her to spring up from underneath. Nothing. Just her underwear. In the kitchen, I checked the closet, and didn’t see her either. I checked the entryway and saw her shoes were still there. She couldn’t have gone out anyway, as she would have to walk through the kitchen. So I should have seen her.
….. Was I dreaming…? Was I talking to myself this whole time? I looked down at the book on the floor. No, I think I heard the book earlier. I’m pretty sure I did.
I marched back to the kitchen. “Shion, if you don’t come out, I’m going to eat it all then!” I got a plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter next to the stove. There was still the issue of not having the salt, however. I checked all the cabinets, looking for where she could have possibly hid it. As I did so, I thought of what else was out of place. Unable to find it, I gave up and scraped the veggies from the wok onto the plate. Her fault if she doesn’t like the taste, then.
The wok’s handle was greasy. I washed my hands and reached for the towel. Remembering I had thrown it on the counter, I looked around the kitchen with my hands limp like a ghost. The towel was missing as well.
How does this keep happening? I dried my hands on my shirt. There’s no way she had time to snatch it while I was running loops. It seemed like everything I was looking for was out of place in one form or another. What else have I touched today?
I looked in the dish rack. It looked the same. Two bowls, a bento lid…
The wooden spoon, I thought. That’s right, I got it from the drawer. Where it usually was. But I remember seeing it in the dish rack. And now it’s not there. We only had one. And actually, it was not where it usually was. The correct drawer, but the wrong compartment.
I thought furiously. What else, what else? The wooden spoon, the switches, the cooking oil. I checked the corner. It was gone again. I checked the dish rack, flinging open its door. There it was again. Sticking out like a sore thumb, leaned against the left-side wall. There’s no way I missed it earlier.
The towel. Nowhere to be seen. What else? The pink salt. Still missing. What else? My cell phone. That was still where I left it, plugged into the wall. Flipping it open, it was still dead. I wiggled the charger head to make sure it was all the way in. It was.
Was that all? I scanned the kitchen, my eyes stopping at the empty slot in the knife block. I realized the other knife I was using was gone as well. The cutting board was still there, but it was completely dry. As if I never used it.
Now I was panicking. I was creeped out. I glanced around the dimly lit kitchen again, wondering if I was actually alone. Peering into the sitting room one last time, I still didn’t see Shion. I turned back towards the kitchen, then returned to the doorway, remembering something. I saw that the book was now closed.
I froze, staring into the dark room. My heart was beating fast. A chill ran down my neck, as if there was a cold breath on my shoulder. I forced myself to turn around. There was nothing there.
Shaking, I returned to the stove. I didn’t know what else to do. There was no way I could relax like this. I had lost my appetite. Looking down at the wok, I saw the veggies I had cooked. It was not on the plate. But I was focused on the gleam of silver mixed in, underneath the oily dish.
Pushing the veggies aside with a hand, it revealed it. The big, flat knife. Brushing its blade with my fingers, it was unmistakingly cold. A stinging numbness surged up my arm and through my entire body. I numbly stared at the wok, waiting for the nightmare to end. Waiting to wake up in a cold sweat. Waiting for everything to return to its place.
Then it was utterly dark. Utterly silent.