Empty Stomach

The Grill House kitchen reeked of hot dogs. A thick, meaty scent that punched with all the power of Ali in his prime. For Ethan it smelled like victory. He stood in the doorway, listening to the sound of a thousand sausages sizzling at once, focusing on the chefs who moved back and forth between stations, a well-oiled machine made of multiple arms and nervous energy.

It wasn’t so different to watching an orchestra play. Each cook had their own role to play, to compose a piece of art that was larger than themselves and add to the symphony of the grilling. The maestro, a stocky, tattooed beast of a man called Karl, barked orders, keeping his staff in rhythm with each other. When he spotted Ethan loitering in the corner, Karl turned to a younger man and said, “Mike, take over for a second. I’ve got to see to something real quick.”

Ethan followed Karl into the alleyway outside of the kitchen and the two of them shook hands. “In another life you’d have made a great drill sergeant.”

“Every day I’m in the restaurant is a battle and I and wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s never too late to come back into the trenches with me.”

“Thanks. I’ll leave the war on bad cooking to you. I’m better suited to eating food than making it.”

“Never say never, my friend.” Karl said. “How long you in town for?”

“I’ll be sticking around for a day or two. Then I’m heading to Baltimore to judge the World Pizza Eating Championship.”

“Well, I’m glad you still have time for us little people. But I guarantee you won’t feel the same rush anywhere else. Admit it. Being back where it all began is special.”

Ethan lit a cigarette and recalled the smoke breaks he’d taken in between the late nights washing dishes, scrubbing floors and cooking in the foxhole with Karl when they were young, determined to make it in the food world. Back then, everything had seemed simpler. He blew out a plume of smoke and gave a cigarette to Karl, sparking it for him.

“I’m just here for the free booze.”

“All these years of being a celebrity are finally paying off.”

“I was never a celebrity. More of a sideshow who happened to look good on camera.”

“Whatever you want to call it enjoy yourself. Without you, none of this would’ve been possible.” Karl stubbed out his cigarette on the floor. “I’ve got to get back in there but I’ll see you before the event starts. Most of the contestants are already at the arena. You should talk to them. Maybe say a few inspirational words. They’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Sure. I’ll tell them all about the joys of high cholesterol and how to eat their way to an early grave.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to do your usual miserable bastard routine for the speech.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be so cheery there’ll be rainbows shooting out of my ass.”

Ethan returned to his car and drove the short distance between The Grill House and Staten Island Pavilion. The main parking lot was overflowing with spectators and journalists, so Ethan drove towards the back of the stadium, squeezing in between an old Mustang and Hyundai. After entering through the side door reserved for special guests, Ethan paused to observe the mass of people who’d travelled from all over the world to see The Iron Gut Hotdog Challenge.

As Ethan scanned the stadium, he noticed a large poster near the main entrance that showed an image of himself, thirty years younger, holding a hotdog on the day he’d won the challenge for the first time.

All of that had felt like another lifetime, the achievement of someone else. Feeling a powerful urge to drink, he crossed the room, doing his best to blend in with the crowd. He reached the refreshments section, grabbed a beer and took a hit. 

Halfway through the bottle, Ethan noticed a couple of journalists near the main stage. The guy was taking photos and the girl was writing in a notepad. Ethan recognised her instantly. When she looked up, her eyes fell on him and he felt the embarrassment in her stare.

She said something to her colleague and started walking in Ethan’s direction. He finished his beer and met her in front of the food tables.

“This is a surprise.” Ethan said.

“Nice to see you too, Dad.” Gabby replied, folding her arms.

 “Didn’t think this was your kind of scene.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to avoid events like this when your editor finds out about your family history. I’m on assignment. He wants me to cover the contest for next week’s food and drinks column.”

“Must be a slow news day then. If you’re looking for stuff to write about I don’t mind saying a few words.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to do that. I know you’re busy.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun interviewing your old man. We can get something to eat after the contest. Make an evening of it.”

“I don’t really have the time. I need to start working on the first draft tonight.”

“How about lunch tomorrow at The Grill House? Karl’s put some veggie dishes on the menu that you’d enjoy trying.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Sure. No pressure. I’ll be there at 1PM anyway.” Ethan said, feeling the strain of awkward silence building between them. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sure there’s a line of amateur eaters lining up to be interviewed for their five minutes of fame.” He spoke in a light-hearted tone, but the stony expression on Gabby’s face gave him no indication of what she was thinking or feeling.

“Good luck with your speech,” Gabby replied.

Ethan watched her walk back into the crowd and he thought about when she was a little girl, full of joy and untainted by the acts of her father. If he could go back and change things, he would in a heartbeat. All he could do was live with the mess he’d created and try to find a way forward.

 Ethan returned to the refreshments section and grabbed another beer, sinking into the casual flow of being talked at by contestants, spectators and food freaks who’d decided that it was fine to invade his personal space. But the only person he needed to speak to didn’t wanted anything more to do with him, so he kept on drinking, bombarded with questions he’d heard a thousand times before, existing on autopilot.

“Can you really eat anything?”

“Is it some kind of superpower?”

“Could we get a selfie?”

“What if I eat a hotdog like this?”

By the time Ethan found Karl in the backstage area, his mind was swimming in an alcoholic haze. When Karl saw him, he said, “the man of the hour arrives just in time. You ready?”

 “Yeah. Yeah. I need you to do me a favour and keep a table free tomorrow. Gabby’s here and I’m meeting her for lunch.”

“That’s good you’re talking to each other. I’ll take care of it. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

 From that point on, Karl became a full-time showman. He jigged onto the main stage, getting the attention of the crowd and laying out a few jokes to get them settled. He introduced the competitors, complimenting their determination for taking on the Iron Gut Challenge and mentioned a special performance to provide them with some inspiration.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you the man who legitimised this great challenge, the Hotdog Honcho, the Glorious Gourmand, my partner in crime, Ethan ‘Iron Gut’ Jones!”

Ethan staggered onto the stage, the sound of cheering roaring in his ears, the reaction shocking him out of his stupor. He squinted at the people, trying to find Gabby. He couldn’t see anything other than hand clapping and fist-pumping. When the initial noise calmed, Ethan stood on a podium and leaned into the microphone.

 “Now that’s a reaction that makes a man feel young again. Cheers for that. So, I guess I should start off by saying that when you’ve been doing this kind of thing for as long as I have you get used to seeing people come and go. This industry takes a lot of sacrifice and not everyone can stick it out.” He turned to address the contestants.

“Looking at these kids here, it’s reminded me of being exactly where I was thirty years ago. If I could go back and tell myself one thing it’s that this industry is all about making moments happen. But moments don’t mean anything without having someone to share them with. When it’s all said and done, the real moments come with family. No amount of fame or money will fill that hole.” Ethan paused, suddenly feeling far more emotional than he’d intended. “Anyway, let’s make another moment happen today.”

A chef was cooking a massive hotdog in a pan on stage. Ethan stood next to him and put on a pair of gloves. The chef lit a match over the pan and fire erupted, the sausage and bun crackling with flames. Ethan plucked the meal from the pan, taking his first bite, pure heat searing across his palate. His eyes watered, yet the discomfort in his mouth went away instantly. He powered through, taking a second and third bite, scoffing the flambeed hotdog in seconds.

 After Ethan had finished, he wiped his face with a towel, listening to the fresh wave of applause and cheers. He used to feel proud of drawing that kind of reaction. When he’d found out he could eat anything without any negative effects to his health he hadn’t known how to make sense of it.

Doctors couldn’t either. Some told him his stomach acid was abnormally strong. Others theorised that his metabolism was so fast that he burned through whatever he ate as quickly as he could swallow.

Ethan refused to become a lab rat, so he entered the world of competitive eating and show business. It didn’t matter what it was. Rotting cheese. Swords. Poisonous puffer fish. Ethan ate it all and smiled for the cameras.

He was a freak. But he’d turned his condition into a way to make money and the fame gave him purpose. It gave him a reason to get up in the morning and perform. It made him feel good.  Now he felt like a parody of himself, a dancing monkey repeating the same tricks over and over to a song he’d grown sick of listening to.

Ethan left the stage as the challenge began, the competitors smashing into as many hotdogs as they could fit into their mouths. Karl followed him backstage.

“I never get tired of seeing you put on a show. That was phenomenal.” Karl exclaimed.

“It’s the last time I’m doing anything like that,” Ethan grunted, heading for the exit.

“I’ve heard that before. Hey, are you not sticking around to see the winner?”

 “See you tomorrow, Karl.”

Fresh air smacked Ethan in the face, sobering him up to the point he realised he was too drunk to drive. Setting off at a brisk pace, he trudged into town. When he reached his motel, evening had rolled in. Ethan spent the next few hours chain smoking and flicking through crappy TV channels, passing out and waking up in the late morning. 

He showered, went to the supermarket to buy a fresh pack of cigarettes and got to The Grill House a few minutes before 1PM, families and couples chattering in every booth, a warm, inviting kind of atmosphere. He was shown to a private booth by a waiter and ordered a jug of water. Karl brought the water to the table.

“You missed a hell of a contest. In the last couple of minutes it came down to two Asian fellas. In the end, the winner was a guy called Takeshi with 68 hotdogs in ten minutes. Don’t worry. Your record’s still very much intact.” 

“I’m not worried about that at all. I’ve got other things on my mind.”.

“Yeah. I figured. I’ll let the guys know to make your table a priority.” Karl returned to the kitchen.

While he waited, he studied a family in a booth across the room, where a young man was encouraging a little girl to eat her food. Her brown curls and dark skin were reminiscent of Gabby. Of all the times he wasn’t around to see her growing up. If he’d have been home more would it have made a difference? If he’d loved her mother the way you were supposed to love someone could they have been a real family? 

Ethan lit a cigarette, imagining his thoughts as smoke escaping into the air, disappearing without a trace.

“I’m pretty sure this is a non-smoking restaurant,” Gabby said, appearing in front of him. 

“Old habits.” Ethan stubbed out the cigarette and leaned back to get a proper look at her, making sure she wasn’t a mirage. “Thanks for coming.”

“A good journalist goes anywhere for her story.” Sliding into the booth, Gabby put a notepad and pen on the table. “The interview shouldn’t take long. I’ll ask you a couple of questions about the contest. Get a quote. Standard stuff.”

 “Sure. You’ll know that I’m a much better interviewee when I’m chatting on a full stomach.” Ethan picked up a menu, browsing the main courses. “How’s your mom?”

 “Last time we spoke she told me she was going on a cruise across the Caribbean with John for a second honeymoon.”

“Sounds like she’s living her best life. Heard that phrase the other day. That’s something you kids say right?”

“It’s not something I’d ever say.”

 A waiter came over to see if they were ready to order. Ethan decided on a pork rib sandwich and a black coffee, while Gabby ordered a flat white with a salad made of zucchini, tomato, red pepper and grilled cauliflower.

The drinks came and Gabby used a spoon to swirl the white foam at the top of her mug, staring into the liquid, giving Ethan the impression that she was searching for something that only she could find the answer to. 

“Did you mean what you said on stage?” Gabby said. 

 “Are you asking me off the record?”

 Gabby nodded and Ethan scratched his chin, gathering his thoughts. “I’m not getting any younger. I know I’ve made mistakes and pushed away a lot of good people. I’m trying to change that, and I want it to start with us. I know I can’t take back the years I wasn’t there for you or your mom. But I’m here now and I want you to know that I’m proud of the woman you’ve grown up to be.”

 Ethan trailed off, leaving the mass of his words to linger in the air. He watched the emotion in his daughter’s eyes, flickering on and off like a light switch. She took a long gulp of her drink, then dabbed her eyes with a napkin.

“I forgave you for what happened with mom a long time ago. You’ve got your life, she’s got hers and I have mine. I’ve got so used to looking after myself that it’s hard to imagine anything different. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to have you back in my life completely yet.”

 “I understand. We’ll take it as slow as you want.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that.”

When the food appeared, Ethan studied every inch of his sandwich. The smell of the bread. The warm texture of the crust. The sauce dripping from the pork. It rooted him to the present, made him appreciate that the best things in life couldn’t be rushed.

He ate slowly, chatted about the quality of the ingredients, answered Gabby’s interview questions and watched her enjoy her meal as much as he did. Food had separated them, but it was also the bridge that could reconnect them. The balm to heal old wounds.