Love’s Gamble

Freema chuckled, saying, “Fair enough.” She walked up to the stove on which there was a large pot that was bubbling over. “What is this?”

“It’s called jajanmyeong,” said Ken. “It’s basically noodles cooked with diced pork and vegetables. Smells great doesn’t it?”

“It does!” said Freema taking in a huge whiff. “Wow, I’m hungry now!”

Ken laughed and took some out for her, handing her a bowl full of the stuff. Freema took a bite, closed her eyes and moaned. “Oh my God, this is so good it’s ridiculous.”

As she chewed, Ken eyed her with a great deal of affection but it was a look that went unnoticed on her part.

“I have never made Korean cuisine,” said Freema. “I have eaten it before, of course, right here at the Totoya, but I have never made it. It just seems so different from the kind of cuisine that I usually make.”

“What kind of cuisine do you usually make?” asked Ken.

“Well, since I’m Jamaican that was the kind of cuisine that I initially learned how to cook,” said Freema. “It was mostly spicy stuff, and there is not a lot of rice involved. Korean cuisine is so different. The flavors are a lot milder, and everything seems to be a sideline of sorts to the noodles or rice.”

“That’s true,” said Ken. “Korean and Jamaican cuisines are very different. But that doesn’t mean that you are not going to be able to make good Korean food. If you want, I could teach you how to make it.”

“I would love that,” said Freema. She thought of all the time she was going to be spending with Ken as he taught her how to cook. It seemed like a great way to spend her time, and she couldn’t wait to get started. She was generally a very antisocial person, so the fact that she actually wanted to spend time with Ken was something rather out of the ordinary. Even she was surprised by how willing she was to spend time with Ken, she was not used to actually liking somebody as much as she liked him.

After talking to the cook for a few minutes, Ken turned to Freema and said, “Shall we head to my office for that drink now?”

“Yes,” said Freema. “I would like that.”

They entered his office and a blast of cool air hit Freema in the face. She enjoyed the comfortable temperature and sat down. Ken brought out a bottle of whiskey and sat down in front of her. “Now,” he said, “how would you like your whiskey?”

“On the rocks,” said Freema. “I generally prefer to not mix my whiskey with anything. Ruins the taste.”

Ken chuckled and said, “Yes, I think that fits your personality type quite well. Can you guess how I like my whiskey?”

Freema thought for a moment and then said, “I do not think you are going to have whiskey at all. You seem more like a vodka person. And I think that you are going to mix it into something sweet.”

“Wow!” said Ken. “That is very accurate indeed!”

“Wait,” said Freema. “There is more. Let me try and guess what you are going to mix the vodka in.”

“Alright,” said Ken, clearly enjoying this game that they were playing.

“Not soda, that’s for sure,” said Freema. “No, you would go for a juice. What juice though? Apple? No, something sweeter. Peach juice. I think that you are going to mix your vodka in peach juice.”

Ken looked impressed as he pulled out a bottle of vodka and a box of peach juice out of the mini fridge in his office. “Your powers of observation are immense,” he said.

“It comes with the territory,” said Freema. “If you want to be a successful poker player you are going to have to put some effort into reading people. It helps you to tell if people are bluffing or not.”

“I can imagine,” said Ken. “Well, no I can’t. I can tell what people are like to, but not to this extent. My skills have more to do with emotion than anything else.”

“It goes with your personality,” said Freema with a smile.

Ken handed Freema a glass of whiskey and they clinked their glasses together. They each took a sip and then Ken sat down with a contented sigh. “So,” he said. “What made you start poker? I mean, there must be a story there.”

“My dad taught me how to play,” said Freema. “He loved poker, and he was quite good at it too. After I learned how to play, I started to practice to become better. I tried hard to become the best poker player I could be and after a little while I got better than my father. He was really impressed by my progress. I think that was one of the reasons that I focused so much on improving my poker playing skills. It was the only thing that I did with my father apart from eating, and being good at it was the only other way I had to gain his approval apart from cooking nice things for him.”

“Was your father stingy with the approval he gave you?” asked Ken. There was no malice in the question, he was genuinely curious, and yet it stung. Freema found herself a little sad. She felt sad because he had unknowingly stumbled upon the truth. Her father had, in fact, been rather stingy with his approval and affection. She had always had to struggle to get him to approve of her or make her feel loved, and she had resented him a little for it. However, she was not ready to talk to Ken about this just yet.

“He was from a different time,” said Freema with a  dismissive wave of her hand. “He just never learned how to show affection the way that we do. He was a good father though. He truly cared about me, and he made sure that all of my needs were met. As long as I had him, I did not have to worry about a single thing in my life. He would take care of everything, he would take care of me.”