"So, Ryan," Kirsten said, her voice a bit muffled from having her head stuck in the refrigerator, "you want to tell me what's going on with the whole Snoopy thing? You and Seth obviously have some sort of private joke about it." She turned towards the counter with her hands full of ingredients.

"Yeah, no...it's nothing really. Uh, let's just get started, OK? Here's a frying pan," he continued, handing it to her. Kirsten put down the butter, cheese and bread she'd been holding and took the frying pan, holding it up by the handle and looking at Ryan dubiously. "And, uh...the stove's over there."

Kirsten rolled her eyes. "Ha ha. Very funny, young man. You know, I think you may be spending too much time with Seth--his brand of humor seems to be rubbing off on you." She put the frying pan on the burner and hesitantly turned on the flame.

"No! Wait! You have to put the butter in the pan first and warm it up slowly until it melts. Otherwise the butter will burn."

"Oh! Ah...OK." Kirsten shut off the stove and turned to the kitchen island, her earlier feeling of freedom dissipating. "Listen, Ryan, are you sure you want to do this? It has the potential for tragedy, you know. There's a reason for our large collection of take-out menus. I mean, maybe I'm just not destined to be a cook." Ryan ducked his head, but not quickly enough to hide the disappointment in his eyes, and she suddenly found herself needing to explain. "I just...well, I'm a little uncomfortable with new things. It kind of scares me, to be honest." She said this last bit with a rueful laugh, trying to pretend that it wasn't so true. She wasn't used to sharing much of herself with anyone but Sandy. "I wasn't always like that, I guess. Maybe it's just the process of getting older. I feel like I get a little less courageous with every passing year. When I was your age, I seem to remember being...fearless..." She stared down at the counter.

"You took me in. You took that chance. That was pretty brave, I think. I mean, all you knew about me was that I helped my brother steal a car, burned down one of your houses and got Seth into a fight." Ryan said quietly, after a minute.

She looked up then, to find Ryan staring at her intently. "Yeah. And that was really scary."

"But you did it. What's a little grilled cheese compared to that?" He smiled hesitantly, hoping she wouldn't take his quip the wrong way.

She laughed then, a real laugh, and picked up the butter. "OK, Chef. How much?"

******************

When Sandy and Seth crept back into the house an hour later, they heard laughter coming from the kitchen. Sandy put his finger up to his lips as they peered around the corner from the hallway.

"OK, that first one looks a little..."

"Broken?"

"Well, spatula wielding is a fine art. The trick is to turn the whole thing over at once."

"Really? I thought my technique of stabbing at it until the top piece of bread slid off and the cheese got all over the pan was pretty good. I was improvising!"

"Uh, yeah...the others are at least identifiable as sandwiches, though."

"I'll give the first one to Sandy. It's a rule of married life that he at least has to sound enthusiastic. Seth can have the last one; otherwise I'll never hear the end of it. It almost looks good enough to be in a magazine, don't you think?"

"Grilled cheese monthly?"

A giggle, and then, "Ryan, do you remember when I asked you what you wanted to be? And you said, '17', and I said 'me, too'?"

"Yeah."

"I meant fearless."

"So did I."

"I think this afternoon was a good start."

*******************************

Sandy and Seth entered the kitchen to find Ryan and Kirsten plating the sandwiches. "Hi guys! You're just in time! Sit down, and Chef Ryan and I will serve you." Kirsten held out her arm and Ryan draped a dishtowel over it like a maitre'd. Father and son exchanged amused glances as they took their places at the table.

"Well, the presentation certainly is...creative," Sandy said, staring down at the mess on his plate. At the same time, Seth took a bite of his sandwich and enthused, through the mouthful, "Hey mom, this is really good! Are you sure Ryan didn't make it?"

"Seth, don't talk with your mouth full, and I'm not going to dignify your question with an answer."

Swallowing, and switching the subject, Seth asked, "So, mom. Did Ryan tell you about Snoopy?"

"Why, no, he didn't." Kirsten caught the look Ryan threw Seth across the table. "What about Snoopy?"

Ignoring Ryan's Glare of Doom, Seth went on. "Marissa told me that Ryan played Snoopy in his middle school production of You're a good man, Charlie Brown. She even saw a picture!"

Sandy gave a snort into his water glass as Kirsten turned to Ryan. "Oh, honey, that is so cute. And I guess that explains the apron. I had no idea you were interested in theater. Do you think it's something you want to continue to pursue? Harbour has a wonderful drama program, if you're interested. They put on lots of different plays all year long to raise money for charity. I'd love to come see you in a show."

"I...I don't know. It was just that one show, really," Ryan mumbled, looking down at his plate.

"Sure, son! We'd all love to see you in a show," Sandy enthused. "Seth's not big on extracurricular activities."

"Hey, I've got The Plank!"

"And we read every issue, but you have to admit, even that is a recent development. Not that we aren't very proud."

****************************

Kirsten and Ryan were rinsing the plates, cups, and silverwear before putting them in the dishwasher. Ryan was silent, a little withdrawn, while Kirsten hummed softly under her breath. Simultaneously, they both realized what song she had been humming absentmindedly.

"I'm sorry, honey. Obviously the whole Snoopy thing is something you don't want to talk about."

"No...it's OK." And then, softly, "Fearless, huh?"

She smiled down at the plate in her hands. "Yeah."

"I can finish up here, if you want." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"OK. And Ryan? Thank you for my birthday present."

"You're welcome."

As she left the kitchen, she heard Ryan take a breath, and then quietly, so quietly she might have even imagined it, she heard his voice:

Bring on the soup dish, bring on the cup.

Bring on the bacon and fill me up.

'Cause it's supper

Supper, supper, suppertime.