“Bland” - ((JINTA))

Gather ‘round, children! It’s suffering time!

totaldramadevotee

Characters: Jinta

Words: 1841

Jinta looked at the clock- he still had a little less than an hour before Izumi would arrive home. Mai was still asleep, and would likely be brought to a stir when Izumi did return. For the time being, he stirred the contents of a pot on the stove. He was following a recipe a friend had given him for a Colombian stew: cuchuco, as it was called. He had wanted to try making it for himself after tasting the rustic and homely dish at the aforementioned friend’s house.

Jinta wafted the steam coming out of the pot, wrinkling his nose slightly. It didn’t smell quite right- not like how it did when he’d had it before. He figured that he wouldn’t be able to recreate the dish perfectly, but at the same time, something smelled peculiar about the stew. It didn’t smell particularly appetizing in the slightest. Disheartened by this, he paced towards the cupboard to retrieve spices in order to remedy the problem.

As he reached up for a bottle of cumin powder, he noticed the newspaper on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t yet read the day’s details, and typically like to at least browse the articles to see if anything of note happened. If anything, it helped him to appear more learned, which was a benefit in his eyes.

Setting the cumin on the counter, he took a moment to leaf through the paper, curious as to if any headlines would catch his eyes. While this turned out to be a fruitless pursuit, there was an ad that not only gave him pause, but caused his eyes to widen, if only slightly.

Near the back of the newspaper was a half-page advertisement for a boutique; the name looked familiar, and Jinta immediately realized why. It was the boutique Adelia designed for, and even worked at part-time. The establishment was announcing their summer collection, and in the center of the advertisement was a familiar dress, one of Adelia’s own design. The white dress that changed color in sunlight- he’d seen the article at its debut, and remembered the novelty and shock of the unveiling as if it were merely days before.

A slight smile made its way across his face as he admired the simple ad; Adelia was quickly gaining recognition for her work, despite being a fresh face in the fashion world. She possessed a style all her own yet accessible to many, aiding to her popularity. She was still young and novel, always working to create something unlike any other. But of course, Jinta knew all this- it was part of why he admired her, and why he in turn had fallen in love with her.

Turning away from the paper, he stirred the stew that was still simmering, tossing a pinch of cumin in without a second thought. However, his mind dwelled on the advertisement and on Adelia. They’d been dating for just over two months, and still she seemed to amaze and surprise him. She had the most curious effect on him, and it was almost bothersome if it weren’t so wonderful to him. A graceful, elegant enigma- that’s what she was. At every turn a surprise, yet never contradictory. So full of vigor and passion, she worked without ceasing, and without compromise to who she believed herself to be. And yet… she didn’t do such things for anyone else. She did not work hard for the benefit of another, she did not walk with such confidence and poise in order to please the crowd or win their hearts. She was authentically fabricated, an oxymoron in and of itself. It made no sense, and almost brought an aching to Jinta’s head as he tried to consider this concept. He let out a soft sigh, reaching for a tasting spoon. Dipping the utensil into the pot, he brought it to his lips, waiting a moment for the contents to cool. Then, he took a bite of the simmering cuchuco. Immediately, he grimaced, hardly able to swallow the bite. He glanced at the messily scrawled out recipe, checking it twice to see if he’d missed a crucial step. Why did it taste so…… so……

He glanced at the newspaper, then to the pot on the stove. Reaching for the bottle of cumin, a horrid thought crossed his mind.

She was stunning; calculated for no benefit but her own, skilled in so many ways that one would think she could think nothing was impossible to her, filled to the brim with a passion that could not be extinguished. She was so very vibrant. And him?

He was bland.

Jinta tried not to bother with such thoughts, but they always lingered.

‘I’m not confident at all. I just act like it because I have to. For Mai and Izumi. But I’m nothing special. So I can cook? You couldn’t tell by the way things are going right now. Did he even write down this damn recipe right? Why is this so hard? What am I doing wrong? This is what I get for being someone I’m not. I say I’m the sun, but I’m so dull. They can all see it, can’t they? If I act even more arrogant, maybe that will cover it up. Cover up that I’m not radiant, I’m not extravagant, I’m not stunning. I’m dull. I’m plain. I’m bland.’

The insults clouded his mind; he felt light headed, and reached to catch himself on the counter. All he could smell was the stew on the stove. It smelled putrid to him; whether it was actually rank was highly doubtful, but to him, it was vile. Jinta looked to the newspaper, almost wincing at he saw he left it open to the advertisement.

‘She just started her career and she’s made leaps and bounds. I’m still just a no name chef at a small establishment. Am I not talented enough to go the distance? I am mediocre. Novice. I’m not the sun. I’m not even a star. Not even a speck in the cosmos- I can’t be all that. I just can’t. I’m trying so hard, but I’m just… I’m just Jinta. Plain Jinta. I’m doing my best, is that not enough?’

Jinta turned to the stove, trying to calculate if he could salvage the cuchuco. He stumbled to the fridge, fishing out various vegetables. Splaying them across a cutting board, he set to dicing them quickly, figuring that it would serve as a distraction, and bring both color and texture to the dish. It wasn’t in the recipe, but it seemed that he could not get by with trying to imitate something foreign to him.

Putting the diced vegetables in a separate dish, he returned to the stew. It had thickened into a paste-like texture in the time it had cooked; Jinta scowled, the frustration welling up inside of him.

“That rain cloud probably left out an ingredient- could he have been any less vague with these instructions?” Jinta muttered, quickly projecting the blame onto someone else. As he turned away from the stove, his elbow brushed the pot, causing him to yelp in pain. The heat seared his elbow, and he moved so rapidly that it knocked the pot off of the burner entirely. Jumping back, Jinta watched as the would-be stew splattered against the floor.

“Dammit! What a waste- I’ve gone and-” Jinta stammered, feeling his breathing quicken. His thoughts grew louder, like demons screeching into his ear.

‘You wasteful idiot, look what you’ve done. Granted, it wouldn’t have tasted any good. It was bland, just like you. It was awful. Why did you even try that? That was stupid. You wasted the money for those ingredients, you’ve wasted so much food. You can’t afford to be so wasteful, you know. What an idiot. What a moron. You’re so clumsy, how are you a chef? You boast to be the sun, but you’re burned right out, aren’t you? Nice going, you fucking idiot.’

While the voices screamed relentlessly, he stared blankly at the mess on the floor. He didn’t even hear Mai emerge from her room, made curious by the sudden clatter she had heard. Poking her head around the corner, she saw Jinta standing still as a statue, and was rather confused. She puttered into the kitchen, catching sight of the mess. In a way, she understood, even if she only had figured out the surface of his problems.

“Nice one.” Mai mumbled, toning down her usual sarcasm. “The hell is that? Are you trying to make weird foreign dishes again? You know Izumi is a picky eater.” Mai crossed her arms, figuring that would be enough to snap Jinta back into reality. However, the opposite happened. He was drowning in his thoughts, and didn’t even hear Mai speaking.

“Wow, rude. It’s almost worse than when you’re intentionally an ass, you know?” she spoke louder this time. However, instead of responding, tears welled up in Jinta’s eyes. This shocked Mai- she had scarcely ever seen him cry. In fact, Mai wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Jinta show such emotion.

“Come on bro, it’s just a spill. Here, uh, you go take a nap or something. You worked late last night, and you probably binge watched another season of Chopped, didn’t you? Fuck, just go take a nap, you dork. I’ll clean this up.” Mai grumbled, elbowing Jinta. This brought him back, and he quickly wiped his eyes, clearing his throat.

“What? Oh, yeah. Whatever. I was thinking about something else. I’m going to… go. I’ll have dinner ready at the usual time. I just need a few minutes.” he insisted quickly, turning away so Mai would no longer see his expression.

“Do whatever, bro. Damn, you’d think I was the older sibling, wouldn’t you?” Mai rolled her eyes, though in reality she was simply trying to search for something to say that wouldn’t worsen whatever was happening. She didn’t understand it, but she did understand that something was wrong with her brother, and for him to be so perturbed that it showed…. in a way, it frightened her.

Jinta quickly left the kitchen without another word, falling onto his bed and staring at the ceiling. Just a plain, white ceiling. Out the window, the sun was setting. Jinta rolled his eyes back, watching the light sink into the horizon.

“Sunrise…sunset….” he hummed, and felt a stirring within himself, as if there was something he wanted to say. He wasn’t particularly poetic, not like others he knew who were much more eloquent. He furrowed his brow, trying to channel what Adelia would say about something like this.

“The sun rises and the sun sets… but it always shines. Just in different places…different ways….” he ran his fingers through his hair. “Where do I… how do I shine best?”

His lip curled into a mix of disgust and embarrassment, and resolved to leave the poetical musing to Adelia. It was simply another extraordinary talent he did not possess, he figured.