Get Back To You 291 Delectable Dinner

Bridgette and Ivy walked through the night of midtown Manhattan. It wasn't late, yet the streets embellished in ghoul enchants on honoring the spooky month of October. With only a few more days left for Halloween, the city celebrated the occasion by transforming into the gothic-themed party, espousing to their interest in ghastly ventures. Even the coffee shop that Ivy visited earlier to wait for Bridgette had ghostly themed items sold, uniquely for the Halloween season.

Nonetheless, none of it dominated like the good old pumpkin with a ghost face carved on it to spook the pa.s.sing strangers. Bridgette and Ivy noticed little kids getting far away from nearing such displays while a few grown-up teenagers played by making faces by its side to take pictures and had fun on their own. It is a joyous event that greeted its patron without fail.

Upon arriving shortly at her place, Bridgette looked more lively.

She lives only a walkable distance from work. It is something that she firmly followed to focus on her pa.s.sion. The tenant is a former successful ballerina who now offered the place to Bridgette, knowing that she is a theater-loving girl.

The apartment itself is pet.i.te in its construction with a shared s.p.a.ce between the living room and the kitchen, a single bedroom with a bathroom, and a laundry room that fits precisely one person at a time.

"Welcome back, Ivy. Make yourself at home."

Bridgette's greeting brought a silly smile to Ivy's face, but the sight she perceived upon entering crushed the pleasure abruptly.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?"

Ivy encountered the living room drowned under a pile of clothes scattered here and there. They don't appear to be dirty ones or maybe not, who knows!

Ivy broke at sight.

"I had to find something for tonight's show," Bridgette notoriously explained.

"Could you be my favorite person in the whole world and clean this up while I go take a quick shower. I have to get out of this makeup and feel my bare skin," she imposed such a ch.o.r.e, pleading to her friend.

Ivy nonetheless agreed to it with an annoyed nodding nonstop to please her dear friend.

"Alright! Get out of my sight right now," she ordered.

Bridgette obeyed diligently, but before vanis.h.i.+ng from Ivy's sight, she tiptoed to her kitchen. Ivy did not care and glanced around to figure out where to start cleaning.

There stood a long sized mirror standing next to the television and a mannequin doll placed in front of it. Bridgette bought the mirror herself and stole the dummy when it lay useless as a prop. She got permission to take it back home and often use it to practice her lines. The mirror reflects her expression and guides her where to work on and not.

The model had a blond wig on and dressed loosely in casuals. It did not appear or so as any character to remembrance. Like a dummy figure, it stood in the corner of the living room, serving its current owner.

Aside from it, there were also pictures of herself from various plays where she got the opportunity to perform. Be it an extra or side character, or a supporting role, all of it framed and pinned to the wall. These photographs extend to her bedroom too. It serves both as an encouragement to improve more and appreciates her accomplishments so far. Anything new every time gets added to the wall as she continues to live her dream.

Once cleared from its mess to reveal the abstract patterned rug on the floor, Ivy continued to fold it neatly.

Several minutes pa.s.s, Bridgette finally comes out, wearing a soft pink cotton nightdress floating till her knee and patting her skin with lotions to keep it hydrated and glowing. Her hair tied up to a bun for more work.

"Aren't you a good girl, Ivy, darling?" she comments to anger the silently operating Ivy.

Ivy turns to return a sharp glare, but it soothes soon to air, and without paying any attention, she resumes to finish the last few dresses.

Bridgette did not dare to tease any longer after checking the time. She informed to cook dinner for both by herself. Ivy finished promptly and carried the stack of neatly folded clothes to her room, to return to its place. She opened the closet and found it to be under another nuclear ma.s.s of a mess. Looking at the chaotic closet, she dropped the idea and carefully put the folded dresses on the bed.

"I put it on the bed. Keep it in your litter box yourself!" Ivy announced as she came out.

She watched Bridgette in the kitchen, cooking casually. It is one such sight that Ivy could never get used to over the years. Living alone and growing her career as a performer, Bridgette had to learn to take care of herself, which led her to the road of teaching herself to cook her meals. Her learning paid off when she first succeeded to perfectly roast a chicken for a thanksgiving dinner with friends. That night she received a lot of praise for her skill and encouraged her to continue to do so.

Nevertheless, Ivy's reaction when she first saw Bridgette cook so well remained iconic that her jaw dropped, and eyes widened in shock. No matter how much Bridgette could explain it to her, the emerging filmmaker frankly couldn't accept her dear friend's unleashed talent.

Watching her from far reminded Ivy one thing that she didn't do since meeting Bridgette to follow her here.

"Congratulation! It was a fabulous show, and you did great."

Bridgette, who indulged in seasoning the chicken while boiling the pasta side by side for a simple dinner, heard the praise, and immediately looked up to Ivy.

"Thanks!" she replied, returning to place the meat on the hot skillet to cook it.

Ivy hoped that her response would have more emotion, but seeing that it wasn't the case, she went back to the living room to turn on the TV and searched through the channels until she could find a decent movie.

"There! Stop! I want to watch it!" Bridgette yelled as she kept an eye on Ivy's quest.

It was a melodrama romance that Ivy already watched it before. However, hearing that Bridgette wished to see, she set the remote aside and moved to a place on the couch where it wouldn't disturb watching it from the kitchen.

The sound of the interaction of the characters filled the brooding silence as both stuck to their posts.

"Did you enjoy the play?" Bridgette asked after much consideration.

"Hmm..."

"You- You don't like the play?"

Bridgette raised doubts from the faint response.

"What made you reach that conclusion?" Ivy said.

"You are not- being so-"

"I am genuine!"

Bridgette returns to cook quietly. She was mixing the sauce for the pasta, and upon reaching its creamy consistency, she placed it aside. Removing the chicken from the skillet and adding the bacon to it, she cooked it until the fat began to render.

Meanwhile, her eyes steadily studied her guest.

"I really care about what you think of my acting, Ivy," she says to her notice.

"I know."

An instant reply from Ivy improved Bridgette's calm mood.

"Ah, I have something else to tell you."

Ivy interrupted now by herself.

"What? What is it?" Bridgette panicked, and from the looks of it, her panic only got absurd, "Don't tell me you got a boyfriend! Please don't hurt me, Ivy," she acted out dramatically that her play provoked Ivy's tolerance.

"Once again, what made you reach that conclusion?"

"It's not?" Bridgette asks, grinning cheekily.

Ivy denies her idiocracy.

"Listen!" she spoke.

Bridgette simmers the flame to listen up. The onions, garlic, mushrooms along with aromatic bacon cooked till golden brown.

"I happen to sit next to someone-"

Ivy recalls the man, and it is not a refres.h.i.+ng encounter, for he sounded sensitively shrewd.

"Well, he is a critic-"

As soon as the word emerged out of Ivy's mouth, Bridgette's face got serious and interested to know for what comes next. Noticing her antic.i.p.ation, Ivy shared the details.

"At first, I wondered if he was one of those theater devotees, but only in the midway did he share the information of being a critic."

"Go on!" Bridgette urged.

Sensing her growing impatience, Ivy ached to tease her, and she did dawdle to answer, which infuriated Bridgette to cry and beg. Eventually, Ivy gave up to spill the beans.

"He was smart to recognize that you trained with a French instructor to get into your character. He praised your vocals and also pointed out your little trip during the 'Notes' song."

Bridgette hissed from hearing. If there lies a single mistake in her play, then it would be this unfortunate slip that she encountered unexpectedly to her surprise.

It is the scene when the character Carlotta returns to the theater after receiving frightful notes from the phantom, threatening about her nearing end as the leading lady in the theater.

Bridgette faced a slight trip due to her wardrobe, yet she managed it gracefully that no one in the audience could think of it as a blunder. Though it could be naked to the fans, some could spot the difference, which made Bridgette blame herself.

"Did they found out?" Ivy asked if others from the crew knew of this, and Bridgette admitted.

"Of course they do. I had people backstage tell about it for dozens of times after the show ended," Bridgette groaned.

"Mistakes happen, don't let it consume you."

Ivy advised after witnessing her disheartened face.

"I know."

Ivy returns to watch the movie while Bridgette increased the flame to add wine, for the time is running. Finally, the pasta gets coated in the sauce. While tossing the pasta evenly, she remembered Ivy's progress.

"Congratulation to you as well. I mean, I already called, but still- you did a great job. Your short film was awesome, and thanks again for taking me to its screening."

"My pleasure," Ivy replied.

"So, did you like the movie?" she playfully asked to imitate Bridgette's say previously.

"Shut up."

Ivy laughed to enter the kitchen.

"Alright, what are you making?" she asked.

"Very valid question!" Bridgette looks around and then replies.

"I am making a simple past it has only b.u.t.ter, cheese, and- oil!"

Ivy's face did show an extreme reaction. She does love spaghetti for a meal, but with not much flavor to revel, she winced.

"Don't worry! I got another dish coming up for you. It's chicken and bacon and mushrooms- all sauteed and cooked till golden and-"

Bridgette moved to grab the white wine bottle that she just put it away before Ivy's arrival.

"I'm cooking it in wine, so your welcome," she explained and stirred to simmer before adding the chicken.

"Sounds interesting!"

"Thank you!"

Bridgette said to push Ivy out of the kitchen when it is still in a mess. While the chicken, along with its allies cooks thoroughly, Bridgette cleaned the counter.

***

Having completed the cooking, Bridgette plated it nicely on blue and white porcelain plates, one for each. She carried it to the couch as she placed it on the table and pushed it a little forward so that they could sit down on the carpet and lean back against the sofa to watch the TV while eating dinner.

Ivy's mouth filled with saliva as she looked at the dishes. The pasta did not have anything but cheese. Along with its b.u.t.tery scent, it smelled rich and tempting.

The bacon, mushroom, chicken dish also added its scent, mixing it in the air along with the other, slightly dominating as it does have more flavors.

Not only the food, but Bridgette purchased wine to pair it with their dinner.

"Shall we eat?" she asked, and Ivy agreed.

**

Ivy leaned against the couch from such a delectable meal. Despite the lack of robust flavors, the pasta tasted creamy and smooth. The chicken was tender and aromatic that it left its eater, dance in heaven. With a satisfying meal, Ivy looked at the time and saw it already went past midnight.

It's officially her birthday now.

Bridgette never once forgot to wish in the past, but seeing that several minutes pa.s.s after 12 and still haven't heard a word, saddened the birthday girl. She watched Bridgette carry the empty plates straight to the sink.

"The food was delicious," she admits for the seventeenth time.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Bridgette did not pay notice but kept carrying things back to its place.

When there was only a wine bottle left on the table, Ivy signaled to leave it aside. Bridgette allowed with a smile.

"It's pretty late! We ate dinner so late today," Ivy said purposefully, urging Bridgette to catch on what she intends.

Bridgette glanced at the clock in the living room to agree to it.

"Wow! It is late as you said," she murmured and returned to work.

Ivy's face fell on silence, and she refills her gla.s.s full, drinks it wildly.

'I think she forgot.' - Her mind cried inside to the bitterness.