Babel Novel
41
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the tranquil backyard, Alex and Ace exchanged excited glances. After days of being away working abroad, they had finally returned home, and tonight was their chance to savor a much-anticipated BBQ night. With the aroma of sizzling meat wafting through the air, it was clear that this evening was bound to be unforgettable.
Alex, the master of the grill, stood confidently by the barbecue, tongs in hand and an apron splattered with barbecue sauce. The sizzle of marinated chicken and succulent ribs on the hot grill was music to his ears. Every now and then, he’d lift the lid to check the meat’s progress, his face illuminated by the flickering flames.
Ace, the culinary artist of the duo, focused on assembling a vibrant salad that was a true work of art. Fresh greens, tomatoes, and cucumbers danced in the bowl as Ace meticulously drizzled a zesty vinaigrette over them. With an air of precision, he added a sprinkle of nuts and a burst of dried cranberries, turning an ordinary salad into a masterpiece.
Meanwhile, I was busy stirring a large pot of macaroni on the outdoor kitchen’s stove. The pasta bubbled away, filling the air with the familiar aroma that always made my mouth water. As I added a pinch of salt and a dash of butter to the mix, I couldn’t help but overhear the friendly banter between Alex and Ace.
Alex, flipping a juicy steak expertly, called over to Ace, “Hey Ace, remember the last time we had a BBQ like this back in Italy? You set half the grill on fire!”
Ace chuckled, his eyes crinkling with fond memories. “Yeah, but those flames added a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ to the food, don’t you think? Besides, we managed to save the sausages!”
Amid their playful exchange, I chimed in, “Well, let’s hope we can avoid any impromptu fireworks tonight, shall we?”
Alex grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t worry, I’ve upgraded my firefighting skills since then.”
With the meat sizzling and the salad glistening, the stage was set for a BBQ feast that would bring everyone’s taste buds to life. As the evening sky darkened and stars began to twinkle overhead, we gathered around the rustic wooden table laden with food. Plates filled with charred meat, vibrant salad, and cheesy macaroni were passed around, and the clinking of glasses echoed in the stillness.
Ace raised his glass in a toast, his voice filled with warmth. “To homecoming and the simple joy of sharing good food with great friends!”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.
We all clinked glasses, and as the first bite of the tender, smoky meat hit my taste buds, I couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. The flavors exploded in my mouth, a testament to Alex’s mastery of the grill.
Between bites, our conversation flowed effortlessly. Stories of our adventures abroad mixed with laughter, creating an atmosphere of comfort and camaraderie. Alex recounted his hilarious mishaps while navigating foreign grilling techniques, and Ace shared the challenges of finding the perfect ingredients for his creations in far-flung markets.
As we devoured the meal, I couldn’t help but marvel at how this backyard BBQ had become a celebration of friendship, a shared experience that transcended the simple act of eating. The connection between us was palpable, a bond forged through years of shared moments and a deep understanding of each other’s quirks.
Dessert was a simple affair of grilled fruits drizzled with honey and a dollop of whipped cream, a sweet ending to a perfect night. We leaned back in our chairs, satisfied and content, the distant chirping of crickets providing a soothing soundtrack to our shared silence.
“You know,” I mused, breaking the peaceful quiet, “this is the kind of evening that makes you appreciate the little things in life.”
Ace nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. It’s not just about the food; it’s about the company, the stories, and the memories we create together.”
Alex grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Speaking of memories, remember that time we tried to recreate a traditional BBQ recipe in Japan and ended up with a fusion disaster?”
Laughter erupted once again.
As the board game pieces were set up on the table, we settled in for a lighthearted and competitive evening to end the night. The flickering glow of candles added a warm ambiance to the room, and laughter echoed as we rolled dice and strategized our moves. The excitement in the air was palpable, and the sound of shuffling cards and rolling dice created a symphony of friendship and camaraderie.
Amidst the playful banter and friendly taunts, a sudden wave of unease washed over me. A queasy feeling settled in my stomach, and my head began to spin. I tried to shake off the sensation, attributing it to the rich and hearty BBQ feast we had indulged in earlier.
But the discomfort grew stronger, and I felt a sudden urgency. Excusing myself with a muttered “I’ll be right back,” I hurriedly rose from the table and dashed towards the bathroom. My steps were shaky as I reached the door, and just in time, I managed to push it open before my stomach rebelled.
The retching sound reverberated in the small bathroom as I emptied the contents of my dinner into the toilet. It was an overwhelming sensation, a tumultuous battle between my body and the discomfort that had taken hold of me. I could hear my own labored breathing and the pounding of my heart, the world spinning around me.
Outside the bathroom, the voices of Ace and Alex were filled with concern. “Are you alright?” Alex’s voice carried a note of worry, and Ace’s voice echoed with empathy. “Is there anything we can do?”
Struggling to find my voice amidst the heaves, I managed to croak out, “I’m good.” My words were feeble, and my throat was raw. “I think it’s a stomach flu.”
The sound of footsteps retreated slightly, but their concern was still evident. I continued to expel the contents of my stomach, feeling weak and drained. The minutes stretched on, each heave leaving me more exhausted than the last. It was as though my body was determined to rid itself of any discomfort, even if it meant purging everything.
Finally, the torrent of nausea began to subside, leaving me panting and clammy. I leaned back against the cool tiles, feeling a mixture of relief and weakness. The events of the past few minutes had been an unexpected twist in what was meant to be a pleasant evening.
From outside the door, Ace’s voice came again, gentle and concerned. “Take your time. Do you need anything? Tea with honey?”
My response was a groggy murmur, “Yes, please.” My throat was sore, and I needed something to soothe it. The idea of tea with honey sounded like a small comfort in the midst of my discomfort.
Minutes later, the bathroom door creaked open, and Ace entered with a steaming mug of tea in hand. The fragrant aroma of chamomile and honey filled the air, offering a small respite from the lingering nausea. He handed me the mug, and I took a tentative sip, the warmth spreading through my body.
“Thank you,” I managed to say, my voice still weak. Ace gave a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting his concern.
“You should take a shower and rest,” he suggested gently. “We’ll clean up here and make sure you’re comfortable.”
Nodding weakly, I handed the empty mug back to Ace and slowly rose from the floor. The shower was a welcome reprieve, the warm water soothing my tired muscles and washing away the lingering traces of discomfort.
As I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a cozy towel, the room was tidied up, and the board game lay abandoned on the table. Alex and Ace exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with understanding and empathy.
“Feeling any better?” Alex asked softly.
I managed a small smile, the fatigue evident in my eyes. “A bit. Thanks for being so patient.”
Ace offered a reassuring pat on my shoulder. “Of course. We’re here for you. Now, let’s get you to bed so you can rest.”