Hot Cooking Spanker Wanted

by Burns, Rachel

  Ryan thought that I was cute. He had his arm wrapped around me as we sat on the sofa. He was probably guessing that I grew up someplace very sheltered.

  The next day I was feeling a lot better. I couldn't impose on him anymore. I had to go home and get some work done. I confessed that I needed to do a little grocery shopping.

  He offered to go with me. I thought that would be funny to go shopping with a real cook. I laughed and agreed. He looked thrilled.

  I drove behind him to his favorite grocery store. No wonder I had never seen him out shopping before. This one was a little out of the way. He parked and I parked my car next to his.

  He gave my car an odd look. I looked at my car too. It was a cute girl car. “When was the last time you had your car serviced?”

  “Oh, that stuff. It's not even a year old and it has little lights that – light up if it needs something. I would take it into the station if that happened.”

  His eyebrow shot up as I spoke. He looked at me like I was the cutest, and still the dumbest thing in the world.

  “Do you even know how to check the oil?”

  “Nope, couldn't change a tire either.” What was he trying to prove? I had enough money that I didn't have to worry about those things. I wished that he wouldn't worry so much. It got to be too much. He wasn't my husband. And if I hadn't gotten sick I would have never showed up at his door on Tuesday. I had acted that way because I was feverish, and a little lonely.

  He fished out a piece of paper and wrote something on it. “Here is my phone number. Call. I don't want you standing on the side of the road all by yourself.”

  “Why do you always assume that things will go wrong?”

  He pulled out a shopping cart and gave it to me. Then he shrugged and got one for himself.

  We went in and he explained this and that to me. He loved to cook and everyone knew him here. They had no idea about his hobby, obviously. He listened carefully to hear which foods I liked and what I didn't like.

  He made fun of me when I grabbed another egg plant. I knew where my strengths were. Meatloaf was a definite strength of mine. He asked if I would bring it with next Tuesday. I agreed before I thought about what that meant. He threw a bag of pretzels and a bottle of coke-a-cola in my cart.

  I gave him a puzzled look.

  “For your stomach,” he whispered. I was afraid that he was going to try to pay at the register but I went through while he was still talking to the guy at the meat counter. He caught up to me as I was bagging my things.

  He always had an eye on me, like I was a little kid, that could get into trouble without his help. That was starting to scare me. Maybe the rest of his clientele were that needy but that just didn't fit for me.

  He put the bags in my car and closed the truck for me. Then he put the bags in his car and shoved our carts together. “This was fun.” He had his hands on my upper arms to say goodbye this time. “I am so glad that I was able to help you out. You have my number, don't hesitate to call, I mean that. I'll see you in a few days. If you don't feel up to cooking just give me a call or write me an e-mail, I'll do it then. Take good care of yourself. Have you got your book?”

  I nodded as I looked up to him.

  “Then, you are all set. Please don't try to make up on lost time working. Start out nice and slow. If you relapse for whatever reason call me. I'll come. Promise?”

  I cast my eyes down, but I nodded. I didn't mean it. It was a lie I hoped I wouldn't be caught at.

  He gave me a one armed hug. He was holding onto the carts with his other hand. It was windy out and my hair was flying all over the place.

  “Goodbye.” I looked at him for a second before I got into my car and drove off. He was bringing the carts back as I pulled out of the parking lot. He wanted me to know that he wasn't following me.

  Friday – Woke up at nine. Breakfast was just an apple spread throughout the whole morning. Food stayed in, so I got a little braver with lunch. Made the spaghetti meal that you wanted me to try. Burnt, while on was on the phone with work. Made a box of Mac and Cheese. Again I ate it over many hours. Drank milk with it. Supper salmon with creamed spinach and potatoes. Phone didn't ring and nothing burnt on. Drank water. Went to bed around eight.

  Saturday – Woke up at six. Stayed in bed until eight, reading a book. Breakfast was a fruit salad again. Had the steak and green beans that you suggested for lunch. Ordered a pizza for supper. Drank water or milk. The coke you insisted that I buy is starting to gather dust. The pretzels I will probably eat, eventually. Bed at eleven.

  Sunday – Up and at 'em by seven. Oatmeal for breakfast. A donut snack. Leftover pizza for lunch. Made a healthy supper so you wouldn't be mad at me. Chicken breast with rice and broccoli. I don't care for rice. Bed by twelve.

  Monday – Omelette with cheese and ham. Made myself a hot chocolate, as a coffee substitute. Three cups later I was hooked. Are you going to take that away from me too? I hope not. I like drinking something warm. You know something I can wrap my fingers around. Had a late lunch, was too filled up with hot chocolate. Decided a banana would be enough to keep you off my back or – wherever. Supper had to be something good because I would be seeing you the next day. I made sauerkraut and mashed potatoes and had sausages with that. A classic from back home. Bed at eleven-thirty.

  Tuesday – Up at seven with the neighbor's kids. Can't wait for Christmas vacation. They will sleep in then. Made myself another omelette.

  Chapter 5 Game Over

  I showed up at his door with my arms full of Tupperware. Ryan raised an eyebrow and let me in. He closed the door behind me, took a couple of bowls and carried them into the kitchen.

  He sat down and watched me cook. He pointed to pots and the things I needed. Ryan was grinning so big that I figured that he would be laughing outright soon. I put the meatloaf in the oven and let the potatoes boil in one of his professional pots. I put the dessert in the refrigerator. It was a German specialty, I was sure he didn't know about. I was hoping to teach him something.

  I got my diary out of my bag and gave it to him. I stood there waiting as he read through it.

  “You didn't have lunch?” He was worried again. The truth was I was eating more now than before I met him.

  “The omelette was really filling. It was more of a brunch.”

  “You just had one donut on Sunday?”

  “Yes, just one after church.” I sat down across from him.

  “You went to church?” He looked amused.

  I felt offended. I guessed letting a complete stranger bare my bottom and beat on it was a wholly unchristian thing to do. I hung my head as I felt the sides of my mouth fall. “You said, I should meet more people.”

  “Did you?

  I shook my head. “Against every mothers opinion, single men don't go to church, just married ones do. The only ones interested in me were going through a midlife crisis.” I sighed then turned around to make sure that the potatoes didn't burn on.

  He looked a bit mad as I turned back to him.

  “The banana right? I just usually don't eat three meals a day. I kind of feel like a stuffed pig lately. If you shove a whole apple in my mouth, and try to grill me, then I'm outta here.” I looked down at myself.

  I heard him laugh as I looked up. “You look just fine. Please, don't start to worry about your weight. The last thing I want to hear is yet another woman who is worried about her weight.”

  “That must be annoying when you make something with a fine sauce and some woman wants to know how many calories are in it. Like a person could guess that.”

  He was beaming at me again. “Do you know how to make a sauce from scratch?” He gave me a look, like he was thinking, that someone like me would never know how to do that.

  “First a person needs a piece of meat. Wash it under running water while the frying pan heats up. Depending on personal taste butter or oil is added to the pan. When hot, not burning, add the meat, step back, cover and cook meat as desired. Remove mea
t and add water, shifted flour and herbs and cream. Stir. And the secret is to add approximately a tablespoon of orange juice. You have to taste it a lot to see if it tastes right. Oh, and add salt and pepper when the meat is in the pan.” I felt like saying 'huh' in a very mean, I told you so, way.

  “Where did you learn that?”

  “I told you I could cook. I just don't like to. Well the worst of it is thinking about what to cook every day. I'm more of a Sunday cook. One big meal on Sunday is fun, but three times a day is just, well bothersome.”

  “Bothersome?” His face probably hurt from smiling so much. The water was boiling so I turned it down. I turned and looked at him then. He had gathered himself in the meantime.

  “You have a very low opinion of me, don't you?”

  “No, not at all. I bet you are great in your job, maybe even the best in your field but everyday things are just beneath you, and they shouldn't be. I want you to be the best at taking care of yourself, too.” He opened his arms out wide. He wanted me to sit on his lap.

  I went to my chair. “You do realize that my days only have 24 hours, just like everyone else's. Work is just more important than eating and sleeping.”

  He grabbed me and pulled me over to the stove. He turned it off and then the oven too. I tried to pull away from him but he held fast as he marched into the living room, dragging me behind him.

  “Please, let me go. You're scaring me. Please stop.” I was already crying. How could I have been so stupid? I had forgotten who I was talking to.

  He forced me over his lap, and started right in spanking me, hard. Not like last time where he started in slowly. I was in a lot of pain already, and he was just gaining speed and power. I was bawling, like a little kid. I couldn't take it anymore. I was shaking and crying, and he had already been going at me for a couple of minutes. This had to stop. What was the safe word? I couldn't think of it.

  “Rose,” I shouted, but only it came out as a whisper. One that he didn't hear. I repeated it again and again until he did stop. He let me get up. I ran for the door, grabbing my purse on the way out. I left my shoes behind.

  I made it to my car before he caught it to me. I ignored whatever he was saying as I drove away.

  I drove to my apartment and went to bed and cried. I scolded myself for ever going to his house, and for going again and again. I cried until I had a headache which didn't go away until I threw up.

  I felt I had gotten what I deserved for trying to put myself in the place of those battered women. They were one up on me. They had at least found a man who wanted them. Here I was getting hit by a professional beater.

  I hated myself so much. I went into the kitchen and started making myself a cup of coffee. I felt I deserved it after what I had been through. The coffee tasted funny. It came back up. I sat down on several pillows and worked on my book. It was writing itself. My fingers flew over the keys.

  I worked on it for days straight. Only taking breaks to sleep. A couple of hours here and there. I finished it over a week later.

  I got up to took a shower. I undressed and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked terrible. I had lost too much weight too quickly. I seemed to have too much skin for my body. The bruises had long since faded away, but I could see them as if they were still there. I was so pale with dark circles around me eyes and my hair was greasy. I went about putting myself back together.

  I looked in the mirror again. I was still so pale but I could go grocery shopping now. My appetite was slowly returning. I wanted to eat something real. I took my basket and walked to the local discounter. I always took my basket so I wouldn't need a plastic bag. Living in Germany had changed how I think about bags. You had to pay extra for them there. I was too cheap for that. Everyone had some sort of shopping basket.

  I bought myself some apples, fresh milk, butter and eggs. I felt like making myself some soup so I could really get back on my feet. The basket was quite heavy by the time I was finished.

  I lugged it back home and checked my e-mails as I unpacked and started my potato cream soup, from scratch. Pompous jerk, probably thought that I was starving.

  I needed a better spam filter, I thought to myself as I erased e-mails for Viagra and e-mails from him. He had written lots. I erased them all and wiped tears out of my eyes. I was so glad that he didn't know where I lived.

  I looked around my apartment. It was tiny but perfect for me. It had an open living room with a huge kitchen area. I nice long bathroom with a vanity build into the counter. I liked that. I felt like a movie star when I sat there doing my hair or just doing a facial mask. I had a small bedroom but it had a walk-in closet so who cared. I had lots of plants all over. I gave the plants names and talked to them as I watered them. The apartment also had a balcony. It was small, but there was room for a little round table and two chairs. I only needed the one chair but they sold them in sets of two.

  My table in the kitchen was even worse. It had four chairs. Three were always empty. I sat at the one I always used and cried my heart out again. I would have to move away from here. Just to be safe. Somewhere where I couldn't run into him by accident.

  He had served his purpose. My book was finished and I could better understand my friend. If I had loved Ryan then I would have stayed with him. He would have beaten me, whenever he thought I had it coming. And I would have taken it and made excuses for him, taking the blame.

  Yes, I understood her a lot better now. I had learned that it wasn't my place to judge her. Not even close. I would help her if she wanted me to but I would never pressure her again.

  I pulled myself together again, that needed to be done. I gave myself a pep talk as I ate and reread the book. Adding something here and correcting something there. When I was finished I would set it aside for a month and not look at it, then proof read it again.

  It felt good to be able to forget about it. Maybe that would help me forget him too. I called the Tupperware lady and ordered replacements for the things I had lost. I had enough shoes to just forget about the pair lost in battle. I wondered if he even ate the food I had brought with me.

  It was four AM but I didn't want to go to bed. I checked my e-mails again. He had written several since this afternoon. My agent had written too. She wanted the first chapter to the second part of the book that they were going to film. I laid down and reread the first book. I knew it forward and backwards, but still, rereading it would get me in the mood to start wanting to write about it again.

  Several ideas came as I read. I wrote them down on a pad. I fell asleep while reading. I just nodded off for a second but that was always my sign to quit. I turned off my computer before it fell on the floor and then I changed into pajamas. My life had gotten back to normal.

  Chapter 6 Dependency

  I noticed the huge ink blotch on my sheets and pajamas fairly quickly the next morning. My comforter was full of it too. Great. I showered and dressed and went to the store to buy hairspray. I got a couple of other things too so my cupboards wouldn't look so bare.

  I cleaned up my mess and everything came out nicely, considering. My comforter was just too big to fit in my wash machine. I sprayed it full of hairspray and went to the laundromat. I took my laptop along so I could at least continue reading while I waited. I was back to, waste no time, me.

  I sat off in a corner as I waited. I was so involved in my reading that I didn't notice a couple who had come in until I heard them talking. The woman was expecting a baby. He sat her down on a chair and she gave him instructions on how to sort by color. It was nice to watch. They might end up in one of my books one day. It would be a love story.

  I collected my things and glanced at them one last time before I left. They were both reading parenting books. I left with a smile on my face.

  I hadn't been able to find a parking spot close by, so I walked down the sidewalk the couple of blocks to my car, just enjoying being out of the house. I needed to get out again. My things felt baggy. My jeans were too loose and my blouse a
lso looked a size too large. No one would be able to tell because of the thick heavy blanket I was carrying. The one thing I knew about weight was that it was quickly gained back.

  As I approached my car I saw Ryan leaning against it. Of all the rotten luck. He was looking up and down the street. He hadn't spotted me yet but he would in a second.

  I stood perfectly still as I thought about a way out of this. I could just buy a new car. That seemed to be the best idea. Was there a dealership around here?

  I could call the police. They could get rid of him and then I could buy a new car tomorrow. The problem with that is that I didn't own a mobile phone. I was always at home. I never needed one.

  I could keep my head held high and just get in and drive off. I didn't see his car around. He wouldn't be able to follow me. Maybe he slashed my tires or maybe he would jump in the moment I unlocked the doors.

  I longed for the good old days when the driver had to lean over and lift up the passenger's door lock, by hand. That was the problem with being a writer you could see too many alternatives. When I focused back on him it was to see him staring back at me. Hide and seek wasn't my forte. Damn, I had lost my chance to run.

  He started walking towards me. My face must have resembled the scream portrait. I was frozen.

  He stopped a couple of paces in front of me. For once he wasn't smiling. “Can I help you with that?”

  I shook my head and I took a step to the left and so did he. I was starting to shake again. I wasn't meeting his eye. I just wanted to get away from him, so badly.

  “Did you read any of my e-mails?”

  I took a step to the right. Again he mirrored me. I felt tears building. As well as a lump in my throat.

  “You still have some stuff at my place. If you want we can meet someplace neutral. I could give them back then.”