It takes Khánh a moment to realize that someone is knocking at the door. They step carefully out of their ring of various frozen foods and open the door to greet Kai.

“Hey,” he greets. “I can’t really see much to be done out front, and I already watered your garden, so I just wanted to see if—what is all of that?”

Khánh follows the direction of Kai’s gaze to the pile of frozen goods and sighs. “I am currently engaged in battle with my freezer,” they admit. “Sadly, I don’t think I’ll be coming out on top.”

Kai reddens for some reason but clears his throat and asks, “What’s the issue? Maybe I can help.”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself?” Khánh bends down to find a pair of guest slippers and motions for Kai to exchange his dirty sneakers for them.

Together, the two make their way to the source of Khánh’s suffering today. The freezer has, at some point unbeknownst to them, decided to produce enough ice that the pork fat Khánh had gotten on sale and wanted to freeze would absolutely not fit. All that ice is taking up precious real estate! How can Khánh be expected to survive the horror of having to actually use up the things in their freezer!

“Um,” Kai starts. “When was the last time you actually, uh, defrosted your fridge?”

“Why would I do that?” Khánh replies blankly. The last time the fridge has been anything approaching warm was during the short blackout caused by a nasty storm a couple months ago.

Kai looks as if his eyes are about to bulge out of his face. “You mean you’ve never unplugged it to clean out the ice? How long have you been living here?”

“I can’t say I have, no. And I moved in about three years ago.”

“Right.” Kai claps his hands together. “Right. I was going to ask if there was anything else I could do for you outside, but I’ve decided. I’m defrosting and cleaning your freezer. And fridge too, while I’m at it.”

“Why would you need to do the fridge too?” Khánh asks, confused.

“I might as well, if the whole thing is going to be unplugged anyway. Besides, I bet you haven’t seen the surface of the shelves in three years.”

Khánh blushes a little because Kai is right on the dot. “Can I help with anything?”

Kai opens and closes his mouth, then opens it again. “That’s not the point,” he says finally. “But you can keep me company, if you want?”

Khánh agrees readily, but of course there is no chance that they can simply sit still while a guest is in their home. At the same time, they realize Kai will probably object.

That can only mean one thing: stealth cooking.

It’s not a hardship at all to keep conversing with Kai as he methodically removes frozen items from the freezer and sorts them into piles. The freezer faces the window out into the garden, and Kai is intensely focused on his work. At the end of a story about their sisters’ childhood antics, Khánh casually sneaks the container of pork fat from the pile of frozen items. They then launch seamlessly into a story involving some of their small army of cousins, talking while they gather water to soak the dried salted shrimp they nabbed from the pantry. The tactic seems to work, because Kai is too busy laughing to question what Khanh is doing with so much water.

Khanh silently thanks the builders of this house for their setup (which may be the first time they’ve ever done that, because the house is honestly weird, which is why Khanh had been able to afford it at all). The fridge is in the corner of the kitchen, facing away from the stove across the floor. Behind the stove is a counter with barstools that looks out into the living room, and the cabinets on that side are where Khanh keeps their less-used kitchen appliances including steamer baskets, dozens of tiny dishes, and a camp stove. Those, plus a few more ingredients, and then they’ll be able to sneak outside to make some bánh bèo for their new friend.

The pork and bowl of rehydrating shrimp go on top of that kitchen counter behind the stove, innocently blending in with the clutter of things that permanently seems to live all over Khánh’s house. In short order, bags of rice flour and tapioca flour, the salt shaker, a bottle of vegetable oil, a couple plates, a large bowl, and a ladle join them. There’s just one more thing now, and it requires clever timing because the knives and cutting boards are kept on the bit of counter right next to the refrigerator. Khánh lies in wait, conversing easily as Kai tells a story of his own, and when he leans his head fully into the now-empty freezer, Khánh seizes their chance! Simultaneously, they snatch the chef’s knife from the block and slide a big wooden cutting board out from its resting place. Heart pounding at their incredible sneakiness, Khánh does their best not to sprint as they carry away their prize. Sudden movements are suspicious, casual walking is not: this is a core tenet learned from growing up with lots of siblings.

Once they are safely on the other side of the counter, Khánh hides everything on the barstools and announces, “I’m going to nip outside for a bit to tend the back garden. Do you need anything?”

Kai pops his head out of the freezer. “Do you have a hammer or some kind of chisel? This ice is really stuck. Oh, and do you have some coolers?”

Khánh gets him settled with the requested items as well as a speaker and the Wi-Fi password in case he wants to listen to something. Finally, they are able to abscond with their materials out the French doors that lead from the living room onto Khánh’s extensive deck. Here, on the wrought-iron deck table, they set up their workstation. It takes a couple of trips to get everything, including one nerve-wracking moment where they realize they’d forgotten a pot and frying pan and have to venture back into the kitchen.

But everything is ready to begin cooking now. Khánh allows themself one evil laugh to celebrate how very stealthy they are, then gets started. The empty bowl gets the rice flour, tapioca flour, and salt. Khánh uses the door from the deck to the master bedroom to get water from the bathroom, then adds the water and a bit of oil to the batter. Once it’s the right consistency, they set it aside to work on the toppings.

Khánh fries the pork fat first. In the meantime, they drain and rinse the shrimp and chop it finely. When the pork fat is finished, they remove it and fry the shrimp in the leftover oil. The resulting smell is mouthwatering, and Khánh can’t wait until Kai tries it.

There’s still about an hour for the batter to settle, so Khánh wanders back inside to chat with Kai. He’s finished chipping the ice off the freezer and is currently washing and drying each shelf and drawer from the refrigerator. Khánh tries to help but is summarily rejected. They smile placidly. Kai will get fed soon enough, though he doesn’t know it yet. Khánh resists the urge to laugh evilly once more, but just barely.

An hour passes quickly as the two of them talk about everything and nothing. Khánh hasn’t felt like this in a long time. The easy camaraderie with another human being physically present is like an emotional salve to Khánh’s people-starved soul. They’re a little afraid that they’re latching onto Kai because he’s the first friend-shaped company Khánh has had in three lonely years. On the other hand, Kai is amazing. He clearly has a strong work ethic and sense of duty, seeing how often he’s come by to try and repay Khánh for things they don’t even consider favors. And his wit and humor make for enjoyable dinners, not even counting his infectious love for the food Khánh makes.

Khánh would be honored to call Kai their friend, and they hope Kai feels the same way.

When the hour is up, Khánh excuses themself and returns to the deck. They pour out the top layer of yellowish water, add clean water, then let out a huge breath of determination. Now it’s time for the completely improvised part. Khánh thinks longingly of the large steamer pot that is stored on top of the freezer and could not safely be obtained for stealth cooking. They aren’t sure if this alternative method is going to work, but if the Youtuber Ms. Yeah can steam a whole course of dim sum over a coffee pot in an office, Khánh can probably use bamboo steamer baskets over a pot of boiling water to make bánh bèo.

They start water boiling over the camp stove and arrange the little plates in each steamer basket. When the water is boiling fiercely, letting up clouds of steam, Khánh ladles the batter into the plates and sets the baskets atop the pot. While that’s cooking, they venture into the garden again in search of some nice herbs to lighten the meal.

The rice cakes are soon steamed to perfection. Khánh sprinkles the toppings, half shrimp, half pork cracklings, and carries in the baskets just as Kai is making his way around the barstools.

“I was just coming to say I’d finished putting everything back—oh no.”

Khánh smiles beatifically. “I made snacks! Thanks for your hard work.”

Kai looks like he’s about to smack his face but thinks better of it. “I’m… looking forward to it. I’ll go wash my hands.”

“Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

Setting the baskets of precious cargo on the table, Khanh nips out to grab the fresh herbs, then goes about mixing together some nước chấm from fish sauce, sugar, and chilies. Kai helps set the table, then sits and looks expectantly at Khánh.

“This,” they proclaim, holding up one of the tiny dishes, “is bánh bèo.”

“Bánh bèo,” Kai repeats, doing his best to mimic the tones as he does every time.

Khánh nods in approval. “It’s like a steamed rice cake, topped with shrimp or fried pork fat. To eat it, you add a little of the nước chấm—like so—and then use a spoon to eat it. I like to eat them whole.” Khánh demonstrates and gives a happy sigh as the flavors combine on their tongue. The workaround had worked! The texture isn’t too rubbery at all. They swallow and look to see if Kai is enjoying his own yet.

Kai blinks a couple times, then reaches for his spoon to try a dish of his own. “Oh!” he exclaims in surprise. “It’s similar to the texture of the, the bánh cuốn, but it’s got an entirely different flavor profile, and the pork is so crunchy.” He chews slowly and swallows before announcing, “I want to try the other kind now!”

That inner warmth begins to glow again, the one that Khánh feels whenever they watch Kai enthuse about the food they cooked for him. As they continue to eat and talk and laugh, Khánh thinks, I could get used to this.

*

Bonus scene:

Coworker: Soooo what’d you have for dinner?

Kai: Are you coming on to me? I should report you.

Coworker: No, I just like to hear about food, okay? My wife is still nauseous at any kind of remotely oily food and we’ve been eating salads for every meal for like two months. Not just any salad though—beet salads! With kale! Every meal!

Kai: ...I had Vietnamese food.

Coworker: Oh my god tell me all about it.