#nathan merwin

Salim entered the mess hall to find Nick, Rachel, Clarice, and Merwin seated but without any food in front of them. He drew closer and his nose caught the sweet scent of baking coming from the kitchen. Nick caught his eye and waved him over.

“Sit here,” the young man invited. “They’re almost done.”

“What’s happening?” Salim asked as he seated himself.

“Best day of the fuckin’ year,” Merwin answered. “Pi day.” That didn’t really answer Salim’s question so he turned toward Nick hoping for more.

“It’s a math thing. And every year Eric and Joey celebrate it by baking pies.” Salim wasn’t entirely sure what pies had to do with math at first, but then he realized: the value of pie, three point one four. And today was March the fourteenth.

“Oh, that’s clever.” He scanned the faces of the other Americans and found one other missing. “So where is Jason?”

“He decided to join them this year.” Nick shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know why; he never offered before. I didn’t think he even knew how to bake.”

Salim was curious now, too. As the smells grew stronger in the kitchen, his stomach grew more interested. He was salivating by the time the three bakers finally emerged. Salim’s eyes went immediately to Jason: the young marine wasn’t wearing his hat for a change and had an apron tied around him that read “My Kitchen, My Rules”. Which contradicted with Eric’s “Hail to the Chef” apron. It still looked good on him, though.

“What’s on the menu, sweetie?” Merwin asked Joey.

“Empanada galleda to start with, and for dessert we have apple or anke pie.” Jason was already cutting into one of the pies and passing a slice over to Salim. “Come on, he doesn’t want dessert first,” Joey chided him.

“This is the one you made, Jason?” Salim guessed. It didn’t look like any pie he’d ever seen before. He took a forkful into his mouth and letting out a hum of pleasure at the taste of the pie’s lemony sauce. “It’s very good!”

“Glad you like it.” Jason took off his apron so he could sit down next to Salim and get some pie for himself. The others were already digging into Joey’s empanada.

“I’ll have to get in on this tradition, too,” Salim remarked. “I think you might like cheese chureck.”

“Make it for me later.” Jason bumped their shoulders together. “If it’s good, I’ll give my compliments to the chef.” There was something almost flirty about the way he said it. But maybe Salim was just hearing what he wanted to hear.

Still, he was going to bake that cheese chureck later and find out.