A Delivery

Posted on Sun 17th Mar, 2019 @ 5:01pm by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran & Elizabeth Anderson M.D.
Edited on on Thu 2nd Sep, 2021 @ 4:14am

1,062 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Elizabeth Anderson's Apartment, Riverwalk Village
Timeline: MD-4, 1800 hours

Damion Ildaran climbed the stairs to Elizabeth Anderson's residence above her office, carrying a large box in one arm. He rang the visitor bell and called out, "Delivery!" in an amused voice.

The knitted items Damion had brought with him this time were not exactly a gift. He had realized soon into their relationship that, if left to his own whim, he would knit something for Elizabeth every day of the week. While Damion knew that idea enthralled him, he had enough sense to understand that too much gift-giving to one person would shortly become an imposition.

He didn't want to inflict gifts on her that she might not want but might feel guilty about refusing--though Elizabeth was plainspoken enough that he suspected she would refuse a gift from him if she didn't really want it. Besides, he wanted his gifts to her to be rare and special. And so, after giving her the blue cable-knit blanket, he had told Elizabeth that, if she ever wanted to have something knitted, she had only to ask. He'd left it at that and forced himself to resist the urge to knit her that afghan, and those bedroom slippers, and that gorgeous rose-patterned sweater.

Well, he had changed his mind about the sweater, but he could wait until Christmas or her activation day to give Elizabeth that. Today, the box he brought contained something she had requested. The pattern had intrigued him, and Damion had been eager to make it.

Recognizing Damion's voice, Elizabeth came to the door, still fastening one earring with a dangling green stone into her ear. "Computer, allow entry."

As the door swung open, she gave a pleased smile. "Oh, what did you bring me?" she asked, reaching for the box. "I find that presents are a very enjoyable part of learning to be more human. You," she added, "are as welcome as the box, and I understand it is customary to tip the delivery person, too. Come on back to the kitchen and see what I experimented with today, while I see what you've brought me."

Damion had to laugh. "No tipping required."

In the kitchen, she set the box on the counter and reached into a cabinet to pull out a large yellow platter. Setting it on the counter, she told him, "I hope you like these. They're called hallacas, which I understand sounds more like ayaca or hayaca, depending where a person is from. These are still warm, so you can unwrap the banana leaf and eat it just as it is." From the cabinet, she pulled a smaller matching plate and a fork, which she handed to him.

As she watched him cut the strings, she said hesitantly, "I wanted to make something that you might have liked from Turkana IV ... but I couldn't find any recipes. I even finally read your public file, thinking it might mention something you like. I hope you don't mind. I wasn't being nosy, just looking for a favorite food I could practice on. This is actually from Earth, from an area called South America, a region known as Venezuela. I hope it's an acceptable tip."

She straightened up from the counter, with another smile, and said, "And now I'm going to open my box."

"I would be very surprised if anyone's public file stated the kinds of foods they like to eat," Damion said with a smile as he carefully unwrapped the banana leaves from around the small roll. "It smells good," he said, sniffing it as he let it cool a little. "At home, our diet is mainly vegetables, beans, and fruit that can be grown in a hydroponics garden under artificial lighting, and seafood that we sometimes go topside for. There's not a lot of space for growing grain crops or for raising grazing cattle, so we haven't much in the way of bread or cheese unless it's made in a replicator. Our meat is pretty much vat-grown from animal cells."

Damion sniffed at the hallaca again, enjoying the savory scent, and then he cut into it with his fork and ate a bite. "Mm! Nice bit of spice you put in. Thank you for this."

"You're welcome," Elizabeth responded, turning to the box, but continuing the conversation as she opened it. "I thought the blend of vegetables with raisins and a little chicken was quite intriguing. I'm not sure I got the masa right, but we don't have a Venezuelan to ask. I did think it was quite tasty myself."

Pulling back the last flap, she removed one of the heather blue pillows from the box. "Oh, Damion, this is just perfect! It's exactly what I had in mind. I loved the way the picture showed these cables criss-crossing each other, and it's even better in reality." She hugged the pillow to her body, "Thank you for being willing to make two of them. The pattern doesn't look simple." She took the second out of the box and held them both at arm's length to admire them.

"I quite enjoyed myself," Damion said. "I've not done any Celtic knotwork patterns since I lived in Scotland, but once I remembered the way of it, I had a good time. Knitting the leaves and acorns was the tricky part, for me. I've never done that sort of thing before."

"You couldn't prove it by me," Elizabeth said. "These will look great - well, let's go see them in place! Everyone who sees them will want to know where they can get some just like them, but I'll say, 'Sorry, I have the only ones available'!" She laughed, grabbed his hand and headed for the living room
with the pillows. There, she tossed one on each end of her couch, and leaned back against Damion, saying, "They are called throw pillows, right?"

Damion encircled her waist with one arm and laughed out loud. "Yes, they certainly are!"

 

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