Is it ever too late in life to admit you’ve been living a lie?
Alex has reached his middle years. Though outwardly successful, his private life is a closed book. Things did not unfold as he’d planned, despite his ambition and drive to succeed. Having lived alone in Los Angeles for the past six years, Alex has had plenty of time to contemplate his most burning question—can his desire blossom from its shameful beginnings and become the cornerstone of a happy, fulfilled life?
A chance encounter at a cookery class with a gentle man called Luis forces him to re-examine the choices of his past. Could this finally be his opportunity to overcome his natural English reticence and unburden himself to someone who seems so willing to listen without judgement?
Where can he start? His sad childhood in an English seaside town? His first fumbling encounter with a boy under the pier? His honest confession that cost him the thing most dear to him—his family?
As an unexpected friendship develops between them both, Alex revisits his past hoping that, with Luis’ help, he can finally start looking forward.
General Release Date: 22nd April 2025
March 1987
Alex was disgusted with himself. He’d been living alone in Los Angeles for six years now and he still hadn’t learnt to cook. Although he was able to afford to eat out every night, what shamed him the most was the guilt that every evening he’d come home to the new house he’d bought about a year ago, stomach full, and saunter into his gleaming, unused, state-of-the-art kitchen only to leave after retrieving a glass of wine. Last week, one evening after work, resolute to prove to himself that cooking couldn’t be that difficult, he’d stopped off at a supermarket and bought ingredients to prepare a basic meal that his secretary at work had assured him anyone could cook. The end result wasn’t pretty to look at and had a funny smell, but he ate it and congratulated himself on his efforts after each mouthful. Two days later, Alex was well enough to leave the confines of his bedroom with its en-suite bathroom, and return to work. Never one to back down from a challenge, Alex was now even more determined to master even basic culinary skills. After considering the options available to him, he decided on another course of action. Who’d have thought that shame could be such a wonderful motivator?
* * * *
The last time Alex had been this nervous was on his first day starting a new job after finishing university. After scanning the map of the building displayed on a wall in the foyer, he took the stairs two at a time up to the fourth floor, cursing the early evening traffic that had made him late. Once he found the right room, he cracked open the door of the cookery class and peered in. A group of women were inside, spread out along three rows, each one behind an individual cooking station. They were talking animatedly to each other as they unpacked groceries. Having second thoughts, Alex pulled the door closed. Before he could step away, the door was yanked back open by a diminutive skinny lady whose head was crowned with an impressive silver-grey afro.
“Tell me,” she said, her grave tone rooting Alex to the spot. “Are you here to cook, or are you one of those types that likes to peep at women without them seeing?”
Alex shook his head and meekly held up his carrier bag of ingredients, his ticket for admission. The woman harrumphed, then waved him inside. Alex stepped into the room and counted eleven women in total. They turned and greeted him with a chorus of friendly hellos. Alex nodded at them in polite acknowledgement and let the skinny lady escort him to a vacant spot at one end of the third and final row. He turned to smile at his neighbour and was astonished to find he’d been mistaken.
“Thank God. I thought I was the only man here.” Alex sighed and let his shoulders relax. He laughed weakly, embarrassed by his transparent display of relief.
The man chuckled and leaned closer, extending his right hand. “Don’t worry, they don’t bite. I’m Luis.”
Alex shook his hand, disarmed by the warm welcome and Luis’ chestnut-brown eyes, the edges of which crinkled with apparent amusement. “My name’s Alex. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Luis cocked his head. “Do I detect an English accent?”
Alex grinned sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”
Luis opened his mouth to reply, but the skinny lady standing at the front of the room clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention. The room fell silent under her glare.
Throughout the class, Alex sneaked occasional furtive glances at Luis. Besides being tall and slim, Luis carried himself with a fluid elegance. Each movement flowed into the next. There was no stiffness or awkward pauses. Alex suspected he might be a dancer, although he looked too old to still be in that profession. It soon became apparent that this was not Luis’ first lesson. Alex shifted his eyes up from the knife that Luis was using with practiced ease to concentrate on the man himself. The olive-copper tones of Luis’ skin glowed under the fluorescent lights overhead, hinting at Latin American descent. His tightly curled black hair was cropped short and clung closely to his scalp. Distinguished smears of grey gathered at his temples, complemented by a dusting of salt and pepper stubble that covered his jaw. A sharp tap on Alex’s shoulder demanded his attention. He turned to find the instructor standing next to him. She pointed at Alex’s saucepan on top of the stove. Something was burning.
* * * *
At the end of his first lesson, Alex was surprised that the instructor hadn’t taken him to one side and suggested that it would be best if he didn’t come back. Not only had he ruined a perfectly good saucepan, but he’d added far too much salt to his dish, rendering it inedible. Not even Luis’ covertly whispered instructions and advice, offered only when the teacher’s back was turned, could save the day. Afterwards, Luis tried to be encouraging, for which Alex was grateful. He had even been brave enough to taste the ruined meal. Moments later though, Alex had caught him discreetly spitting the mouthful of food into a bin.
* * * *
Alex couldn’t really say that he was surprised at himself for turning up undeterred at the following week’s lesson. He’d been intrigued by Luis and his friendly nature, and had plucked up the courage to attend once more in the hope that he was there again. The second class had ended with them both sharing a bowl of Alex’s Italian tomato soup. Alex had flushed when Luis loudly declared that it was a culinary triumph. By the end of the first month, it was evident how well they got on, and the two of them lingered in the corridor after each lesson, chatting back and forth before they made their way down and out of the building. Two months later, after a lesson that culminated in Alex burning one of his fingers, Luis suggested that they go for a quick drink—something to deaden the pain. They picked the first bar that they came to, a few doors down the street. Inside, it was gloomy, anonymous and devoid of character. For Alex, it was a far cry from the British pubs he’d visited whilst a student. They approached the bar.
“Let me guess,” said Luis, turning to Alex. “Are you a whiskey man?”
Alex smiled and shook his head. “Sorry. The last time I drank whiskey was in England.” An unpleasant memory surfaced unbidden. “It left a bad taste in my mouth,” he added.
“How about a beer then?”
“Sure.”
Luis turned to the barman and ordered. Alex walked over to a corner table away from the bar. The place was empty, but he didn’t want to sit where they could be overheard. While he waited, Alex carefully unwrapped the damp paper towel from around his burnt finger. He couldn’t believe that he’d accidentally pressed it against the inside of the oven whilst putting a dish inside to warm. The skin was blistered down one side. He flexed it experimentally and winced.
Luis arrived with the beers. He sat down and reached out across the table. “Let’s have a look.” He carefully took Alex’s hand in his own and turned it back and forth in the dim light. “That looks painful, but at least the skin isn’t broken. There’s a pharmacy further down the block. Shall I go and see if they have any bandages?”
“I’m fine, really,” Alex replied, pulling his hand free. “I’ve got some at home. Besides, this will help.” He picked up one of the bottles of beer and pressed it against his finger. The cold beads of condensation reduced the pain to a dull throb.
“Well, okay,” said Luis, looking doubtful. He glanced around then leaned forward towards Alex. “I don’t think much of this place,” he added in a hoarse whisper.
Alex took a long swig from the bottle. “At least the beer’s good.” He stifled a sudden belch. “Excuse me.” Alex leant back in his chair and grinned at Luis. He held up his injured hand. “I wonder what will go wrong next week? Maybe I’ll inadvertently give everyone food poisoning?”
Luis smiled briefly. “Yeah, about that…” He shifted in his chair. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Alex’s grin faded.
“I’m moving away from Pasadena soon and won’t be able to attend the classes anymore. I’ve bought a place further down the coast. Have you ever visited Laguna Beach?”
“No, I haven’t,” replied Alex. He tried to maintain a neutral expression. “How long have you been planning this?” Luis didn’t answer and looked away. Alex apologised. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay.” Luis fiddled with the label on his bottle of beer. “I’m sorry, too. I should have told you sooner.”
Alex shook his head and took another swig of beer before replying. “No, you weren’t under any obligation to.” He smiled at Luis, hoping that it didn’t appear too forced. “Congratulations. I’m pleased for you.”
Luis looked relieved. “We can still hang out, you know.” He nodded enthusiastically, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “Once I’ve moved in, why don’t you drive down and visit? Come for supper. We could cook it together.”
Alex burst out laughing. “What, and risk me burning your new house down?”
“I mean it,” said Luis softly.
Alex was silent for a moment before replying. “I know. Thank you. I will, I promise.”
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