Leah wakes painfully early Saturday morning, after barely three hours of sleep. She follows the carefully worded instructions, going towards the Attenburrough bus stop. The stop itself is huge, covering almost a full acre, with dozens of buses pulling in and out, taking on and dropping off passengers.

This, bizarrely, reminds her of home a bit: the ships, with gangplanks for the passengers and rope bridges for the crew, loading and unloading people from the ports. She’d only seen them a few times, first with her family and then more often with the faire – had even ridden on one a few times, with that marvellous captain…oh Gods I can’t even remember her name now, how awful. Nies? No, Nedies, that’s it. She blushes a bit at the memory.

She’d always wanted to cross on the rope bridge, with the water thundering under her, but her courage had always failed her at the last minute. Now, instead, she steps up a narrow stairway onto a large bus, her fare in hand.

She watches the people ahead of her state their destination and put the money in a certain slot, and when it comes her turn she does so as well.

“Commandant.”

“Dix et soixante-quinze,” the driver says. Leah puts in her money, hoping that it’s right. The driver says nothing more, so she assumes it all went through properly.

She finds an open seat and settles in with her bag of clothes. Ten minutes later, the bus leaves.

Entranced though she is by the speed and the scenery, she still finds herself dozing off a bit. She forces herself to stay awake and alert; her time-sense is thrown off by the dark interior, and she doesn’t trust that she will wake up on time.

The drive is an hour long, and she notes many interesting scenes along the way: a bridge in metal, crossing a wide river; farmland with fields so huge no single team of oxen could plough them in time for planting; wide roads with multiple columns of cars, all travelling at incredible speed; whole towns made of red clay bricks and metal roofs, with well-trimmed grass yards, boring and yet eerily soothing to look at.

They pass a sign that says Commandant, at about the time Leah imagined they’d be getting there. She opens her phone and sends a message to the number the mother gave her – Gods, I’ve really got to practice just calling her mum – to say she’s nearly there.

She gets off at the landmark her mother had mentioned, the “church.” Leah is at first distracted by the impressive stone walls and tall spire, and does not notice the car waiting at the side until it has pulled up beside her.

“Was the ride alright?”

Leah looks down and sees the familiar woman’s face, smiling up at her through a hole in the door that is usually full of glass, in the other cars which Leah has seen.

“Hello! It was alright,” Leah says, going around to open the back door.

“No, no, come on, sit up front, you’re not twelve anymore.”

Leah opens the side door instead, and sits in the front, her bag tucked by her feet. The woman leans over and gives her a tight hug, which Leah returns awkwardly.

“It’s turned into a bit of an affair, actually,” the woman says, starting to drive away down a wide, empty street. She presses a button, and a pane of glass slides up to fill the hole in the door. Leah tries not to gawk. “This was just supposed to be a family visit, to make up for your month of silence, but it’s been a while since you saw your father’s parents, and then of course your uncle Sylvain wanted to see you too, and it just snowballed from there. Did you bring the recipe?”

Leah nods, watching as trees and fields and buildings whip past. Being in the front seat is different from being on a bus or in a taxi; things come at you. Not fun.

“I bought a couple joints of lamb, but I couldn’t remember what else you used, so we should go grocery shopping before we head home, okay?”

Leah nods again. The woman keeps up an easy stream of chatter, mentioning people’s names and how they’re all waiting to talk to her, and Leah does not have to contribute much. Rolling hills of farmland, with the road twisting over and between, reveal a new beautiful scene every minute. They stop in a huge expanse of grey with long yellow lines everywhere, and the woman leads her into the large building at one end. They go on a tour down aisles of food, in a grocery store much larger than the one near Leah’s place. This one actually has some more familiar foods: a variety of honeys, salmon, ground flax, dozens of varieties of mustard including one very similar to the kind Leah used to love as opposed to the sweet, vibrantly yellow stuff in Gloria’s fridge.

She sticks to the core recipe, however, and refuses the woman’s offers to buy her some extra supplies. “I’d have to transport them on the bus, and then walk all the way home carrying them,” Leah explains, and finally the woman stops pressuring her.

“We’ve got a lasagna planned for tomorrow night, but I want to do the lamb recipe you showed me for tonight, so if anything needs to marinate or whatever, we’ll start it when we get home, okay?”

Leah considers this. “Is there anywhere we could cook it over flame?”

The woman gives an odd look. “The old bonfire pit I guess, and we could dig out the campfire rotisserie thingy…your dad would know where it is…”

Leah cracks a smile, and feels a little more at ease. At least I’ll finally be cooking in a way I’m used to, instead of weird dials and glowing rounds.

They get back in the car, drive another quarter-hour, and start slowing down near a large field full of wild grasses and clover. Leah has a nagging feeling that she’s seen this place before, and leans into the feeling, hoping for some intuition.

“The hay fields,” she finally says, and her mother nods.

“You used to help out there, end of the summer. That was a while ago!”

“I just remembered…” Leah says, an odd feeling in her stomach. How could I remember? This isn’t my life! Why do I remember something like that and not something useful, like how to speak French?

They turn down a long lane paved with crushed gravel, two wide ruts down either side from frequent wheels passing along. A dog starts running up towards them, its whole body lifting off the ground with every bark, although it is too distant to hear. The woman slows the car down as the dog nears, and it paces the side of the car, barking all the way.

They get to the house, park, and start unloading bags. The dog – a small black-and-white creature with a smushed-in face – jumps all over Leah and licks her hands. Someone opens the door to the house, and a man with a vague resemblance to Leah steps out, arms spread wide. Leah, sensing this is a cue, goes up for a hug, and tries to hide her discomfort.

“How ya doin’?”

“Good,” Leah says awkwardly, pulling out of the hug. “You?”

“Good, good. Been to the chiropractor again for my left shoulder, it’s been aching more than usual.”

Leah nods along blankly.

“My dear, where’s the campfire rotisserie thingy?” the woman asks, passing the man and giving him a quick kiss. “Leah wants to do the lamb over a fire.”

“Why not just barbecue it?”

“I don’t know, she said fire.”

“Well I’ve got the barbecue out already, and I know where the rotisserie attachment for that is – ”

“Did you get the counterweight fixed?”

The man frowns. “It works fine with the weight strapped to it – ”

“Duct-taping the weight to one end doesn’t count as fixing it.”

Leah grins and follows the woman into the house, through a mudroom and into a spacious kitchen with white tile floors and endless wooden cupboards, under and over the counters. She wonders, a little awed, what two people could possibly need this much space for. Is my family here wealthy?

The woman sets the groceries down on a table and begins loading them into a fridge. “Your room’s all set up,” she says, and Leah nods, wandering slowly into the next room.

Living room, with long plush couch and big shiny black box – TV, she corrects herself, remembering the name from girls’ night. Next, a sunny, large-windowed room, filled with little plants in colourful pots. Doubling back, she goes up a staircase and finds three closed doors; the first leads to a bathroom, the second to a bedroom with a huge bed and scattered belongings, and the third to another bedroom, this time with a single-person bed, a dresser, and bare walls.

She steps in and looks around. It smells just a little stuffy, but the bed is freshly made, and the window is clean, overlooking the broad fields of green and yellow. She can see the dog running around in the yard, barking at nothing.

“Leah? Does the meat need to cook for long?” the woman calls up after her.

Leah sets her bag down and doubles back to the kitchen.

“Your dad’s asking if he needs to fire up the barbecue now, or if it cooks fast?”

“It takes ten hours over a fire, but that’s if you’re using a whole sheep. Legs of lamb should be much faster.”

“Oof, ten hours? Jesus, this is an involved recipe.”

“Not really, you just need to keep turning it, and occasionally give it a douse of red wine.”

The woman shakes her head. “You should be one of those…what’re they called? You know in Japanese restaurants, the chefs who prepare your food in front of you, and turn it into a show? You should be doing that. Red wine over open flame…yeah, that sounds showy.”

Leah nods along blankly, and goes to examine the ‘barbecue.’ Coal-heated…metal grills to rest the meat on, or a little hole through the hood to put a stick to turn it…the hood should help keep the heat in, but I think I’d do it uncovered, if possible…more familiar that way…then again, faster with the hood down…

“You remember how it works?” the man asks, coming up behind her.

“Not at all,” Leah says, and the man points at a row of dials, explaining what each one does, and then at a large white thing underneath that apparently provides fuel.

“I thought it used coal?”

“Well sure, it can use coal, but the propane is the main fuel source. You wanted to do this over a fire…could we use wood pellets instead? Would maple work?”

What’s maple? What are wood ‘pellets?’ “Sure, can I see them?”

The man shows her a bag, and she picks up a few pieces and feels them, then smells them. Yep, that’s wood. “Uhh, sure, yeah, this will work.”

“Okie-dokes, I’ll get this ready to run, how long will it take?”

Leah shrugs. “Four hours, let’s say?”

The man beams. “Ooh, this is gonna be nice! This one of the things you learned at the college?”

“No, this is…from a friend. She used to make it for me in the spring.”

“Used to? If this is an old recipe how come you never mentioned it before?”

Leah shrugs. “Just forgot, I guess.”

He doesn’t hear the answer, still fiddling with the grates of the barbecue and setting up the spit. “Anyways, it’ll be great. Your mum was really impressed by it last time.”

Leah nods, in a daze. The dog comes up and licks her hands, and she scratches him. “Hey you,” she says, and the dog pants up at her, slightly wall-eyed.

“Sammy’s new, we got him just before Marco passed away in the winter. We can’t decide whether to get him a friend or stick with just the one.”

“My neighbours just had puppies, I’ll be getting one in a couple months.”

“Really?” The man stops his work long enough to look at her in impressed surprise. “You can afford a dog with where you’re working? Where did you say it was you were working at now?”

“At a bar.”

“Ah, yeah, the tips. Well that’s great, congrats! You’re gonna be puppy-training soon. Need anything? Bowls, treats, leashes?”

“Whatever you think I’ll need,” Leah says with a nod, still distractedly scratching the dog’s ears.

“We’ll find some spares to give ya. Next time you come out, bring the little one and we’ll let him run around with Sammy. Any good dog parks near your place?”

Leah shrugs. “Think so.”

“Good, good.”

“Leah, do we need to marinade the meat?” the woman asks, leaning out the kitchen doorway.

“Um, you can leave it soaking in the wine if you want, but it doesn’t need it.”

“Well, I’m just going to leave it in a bowl with some brine and a bit of the wine, maybe a bay leaf or two, how about that?”

The man calls out from within the barbecue, where he’s trying to adjust some nozzle or other, “It’s Leah’s recipe, let her do it her way!”

“Well I just wanted to make sure we didn’t forget a step…” The woman goes back to puttering around in the fridge. “Leah, do you prefer dark or milk chocolate cookies?”

“Uhh.” Leah sits down next to the dog on the grass. It leans its head against her knee and flops on its side, exposing a chubby, speckled white belly. “Dark?”

The woman continues working in the kitchen. The man eventually finishes setting up the barbecue for whatever esoteric purpose it will serve. Leah stays on the grass, petting the dog, in spite of the puddle of drool soaking into her shorts.

How ridiculous, she muses, rubbing the dog’s belly and getting its back leg to kick, that of all the things here, the dog is the most familiar. You don’t even look a thing like…oh, it’s been too long, I can’t even remember his name anymore.

The dog’s leg kicks so hard he accidentally knocks himself over and off her knee, rolling in the grass and coming up growling. He runs in a circle, chasing a tail that has been docked to just a nub.

You’re just as dumb, though.

Leah reaches a hand over the spinning dog and pats his back a few times. He stops dead, front haunches lowered to the ground in a play pose, eyes staring wildly to either side. Leah laughs and throws a pretend ball. The dog tears off after it, panting.

Step by step. I’ll get there.