by J B Glazer
“Why would you want this one?” Melanie asks me.
“Because I want to adopt the cat no one else wants.”
She eyes me for a moment then nods. “Maybe you should get two,” she suggests. “So this guy will have some company.”
“That’s a good idea. Then Romeo will never be alone.”
“Romeo?”
“Yep. I’m going to name his mate Juliet.”
Melanie looks as if she’s about to say something, then decides against it.
With that settled I find a friend for Romeo. I put him and Juliet in a carrier and head home with my new family.
I bring up the supplies and show Romeo and Juliet their new home. Romeo immediately jumps up on my counter. Juliet is more hesitant. How fitting. I pour some food in their bowls and begin unwrapping some of the toys I bought them. I need scissors and remember I put a spare pair in the kitchen. I go to retrieve the scissors from my drawer and spy the cooking class passes Trish gave me. As long as I’m trying new things I may as well give it a whirl. Plus now that I have Romeo and Juliet to think about, I probably should eat in more often. I pull up the website and create a new account. After reviewing my options I sign up for four classes that begin next week. I call to ask them how I should redeem the passes Trish gave me. I also review the classes I signed up for to make sure they’re right for me. Then I browse Nordstrom’s website for some new clothes. It’s time I bought something in a color other than black. Spring is in the air and with it a newfound sense of optimism. I add three new tops and two casual dresses to my cart. And with the click of a mouse, I’ve officially come out of mourning.
New Beginnings
A new outlook,
A fresh page,
I’m not sure what to write.
It used to be I didn’t know how my story would end.
I now realize it’s time to start.
To begin.
Again.
Chapter 20
I arrive at Bon Appetit Cooking School ten minutes before class is scheduled to start. Tonight is a Chicken 101 class, which the woman on the phone assured me is for beginners. I walk in and there are butcher block tables set with bowls, ingredients, and a recipe card. With a sinking feeling, I realize there are two seats at each table. This is a couples’ class. I debate about leaving when someone says, “Is this seat taken?” I look up into a pair of warm brown eyes. I shake my head no.
“I’m James,” he says, extending a hand.
“Lucy.”
“I should warn you. I’m a terrible cook.”
“Me too. It’s why I’m here.”
“Glad I’m not the only one.”
He smiles at me but I busy myself with reading the recipe card. After a few minutes the instructor says it’s time for class to begin. He goes over some basic instructions then puts us to work. Our first dish is Chicken Milanese.
“This is a good class to come to after work,” James says as we pound the chicken.
“Why’s that?”
“It’s a stress reliever,” he says as he whacks his chicken breast so hard it splits in two.
His face is priceless and I can’t help but laugh.
“I told you I was terrible.”
“Perhaps you should take up boxing instead to help with the stress,” I suggest. “What is it that you do?”
“Prison warden.”
“Oh. I can see why you’re heavy with the mallet.”
“Just kidding. I’m a high school history teacher and coach baseball and track ‘n field. I guess I shouldn’t complain. What about you?”
“I’m an event planner.”
“Now there’s a stressful job,” he says.
“Not to me. I love it.”
“Do you plan weddings?”
“Yes. But I do mainly corporate events.”
“That’s good. Not too many bridezillas then.”
We work in comfortable silence. He looks over at what I’m doing from time to time. It’s really not as bad as I thought. I like having a recipe to follow. There’s order and a logical flow. I’m not sure why I haven’t tried this sooner. Cooking is a good match with my methodical nature.
“Why does mine look nothing like yours?” he asks.
I look over at his chicken and it’s a sorry sight. “Aren’t you following the recipe?”
“I thought I was. Maybe I should pay better attention. You’re distracting me.”
“Oh, sure. Blame it on me.”
I’m not sure if he’s flirting with me or not. He is pretty cute, with his golden brown hair that’s cropped close on the sides but longer on top, and an open smile. I think it’s because of the dimple on his left cheek. It’s not that I’m staring, he just happens to smile a lot. And I like that he’s a teacher. I think it’s a noble profession. I’m about to ask him more about it when the instructor comes by and says, “What do we have here?”
“A real mess,” James says.
The instructor, whose name I can’t remember, attempts to help James salvage the unsalvageable. I stifle a laugh.
“Presentation is out, but maybe it will still taste OK,” I offer.
James shrugs. “As long as it’s cooked, I’ll try anything.”
Once we’re done preparing the chicken we’re supposed to put it in a baggie and cook it at home. James is very disappointed by this fact. He tells me he hasn’t eaten because he had to race over after practice. At least we’re able to sample the finished product the instructor was working on, but it’s by no means a meal.
He looks at his Fitbit to check the time. “Do you think they’ll allow me to eat a snack?”
“I don’t know. Depends on what it is.”
“I brought a piece of fruit.”
Please don’t tell me it’s an apple.
He pulls a banana out of his bag and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Considering this is a kitchen I would think it’s OK,” I tell him.
He eats his banana as we prep our last dish: a basic roasted chicken.
“Maybe you can help me this time?” James asks.
“I’ll try.”
So we work together, following the recipe card.
“Are you signed up for any more classes?” he asks.
I nod. “The next three.”
“You?”
“The next five. I got them as a gift.”
“That’s a generous gift.”
“It was. I was supposed to come with a friend of mine, but she bailed at the last minute. So I was able to convert the three classes into six.”
“That’s nice they were flexible.”
I wonder if he recently broke up with someone. If he did it seems it was by his choice, unless he puts up a good front.
“So I’ve got extra time to catch up to your mad skills,” he says.
“Mad skills, huh? I’m glad the bar is so low.”
He looks at me and shakes his head. “No, definitely not low.”
I blush. We finish our preparation then clean up our station. I go over to the sink to wash my hands and wonder if James will wait for me. It turns out he does, a fact I’m surprisingly pleased about.
“See you next week,” he says as we gather our things.
“See you.”
We walk out together and he lingers in the doorway before we part ways. I wave goodbye then jog to my car to avoid the possibility of an awkward encounter. As I drive home I realize I’m looking forward to our next class.
The following week I arrive before James. I head to our same station and put my things away. A girl I hadn’t seen at our last class is about to take the seat next to me. “Sorry, I’m saving it for someone,” I tell her just as I spot James walking in.
“Thanks,” he says as he sets down his things next to mine. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want me as your partner.”
“Hmm?”
“You know, after the chicken debacle.”
“Oh, that. How’d it taste?”
“Not ba
d. But I couldn’t find the card with the baking instructions. So I might have left it in too long. It was very dry.”
“How long did you cook it for?”
“An hour.”
“An hour! It was a thin breast. The sheet said twenty-five minutes.”
“Well there you go. As I said, it was definitely on the dry side. At least it was well done.”
I have to laugh. I was nervous all week about seeing him again, but there’s an ease about him that makes me comfortable. He doesn’t take himself too seriously and is willing to make me laugh at his expense. The instructor walks in and everyone quiets down. I notice the girl who wanted to sit next to me is checking out James. It appears her green eyes are filled with envy.
“This week we’ll be working on our knife skills,” the instructor tells us. I find out his name is Will. He shows us how to chop vegetables and then has us each practice on an onion.
“I never knew there was a proper way to do it,” James says.
We chat while we work and he talks about his students. I tell him an acquaintance of mine, Liv, is also a high school teacher.
“Her husband proposed to her on a quiz,” I tell him. “He changed the questions to be about their relationship and slipped it into her grading pile.”
“That’s cool. You wouldn’t believe some of the Hoco proposals I’ve seen,” he tells me.
“Hoco?”
“Sorry. Homecoming. One of my baseball players decorated home plate. Then he wrote, ‘You’ve caught my attention. Let’s have a ball at Hoco.’ It was a bit tricky for us to practice until he was able to get her onto the field.”
“That’s cute. Much more elaborate than in my day.”
“Did you like high school?”
I shrug. “It was OK. Did you?”
“Yeah, I loved it. I guess it’s why I decided to go back.”
“You were probably like Homecoming King or something.”
He shrugs and looks embarrassed.
“You totally were! I’m standing among royalty.”
“You probably shouldn’t tease me while I’m wielding a knife,” he says.
He manages to make me smile. Again.
After the onions are diced we move on to carrots.
“Ouch!” James yelps as he yanks his hand away.
“Oh my God! Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I was just messing with you.”
“You scared me,” I say as I swat him on the arm. And thank God it was a false alarm or I’d have passed out at the sight of his blood.
“Sorry, my family is big on pranks.”
Will hurries over and asks if everything is OK.
“We’re fine,” James assures him.
“You’re so bad,” I tell him.
“I’ve been called worse.” Then he smiles at me, his dimple full on display.
We finish chopping the vegetables then add them to a stir fry. This week we are eating what we’ve prepared. As the vegetables are sizzling in the wok I do a quick check of my messages. There’s one from Trish asking about class. I may have mentioned to her I sat next to a cute guy, so of course she’s asking about him.
Trish: Did you get a taste of the hottie?
I turn away so James can’t see my screen.
Me: You’re so bad.
Trish: I hope you’re sharing. Let him have a turn to grind, pinch and whip?
Me: He’s sitting next to me!
Trish: Even better. Make sure he lets you cream.
Me: This isn’t a baking class. I fold ;)
I shake my head and smile as I finish responding to her text. Then I tuck my phone back in my purse. I sense James watching me.
“Catching up with your boyfriend?” he asks casually.
“Umm. No. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Good,” he says. And we leave it at that, until my curiosity gets the best of me.
“What about you? Who’s this friend who canceled on you?”
“Oh, she’s my brother’s fiancé. They got the classes as a gift, but my brother travels a lot. And he has no interest in cooking. I told her I’d join her, but at the last minute she bowed out. She’s like a sister to me, but I think my brother didn’t like the idea of us spending all that time together. He told me I should find my own date. Whatever, it’s cool. Because now I’ve met you.”
I nod but don’t press the topic further. I’m quiet while we eat, so James makes small talk with the table next to us. The redhead who almost sat at our table is happy to oblige. At the end of class he attempts to walk out with me.
“I’m going to head to the ladies room. I’ll just see you here next week.”
He nods, likely sensing my change in mood. It’s not that I don’t find him attractive. He is rather adorable, and sweet. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to date yet and don’t want to give him the wrong idea. To be honest I have no idea what I want when it comes to relationships. I thought I knew. But right now I have no idea about anything.
Chapter 21
Weekends are the hardest. Endless stretches of time that I need to fill. There are only so many errands I can run and yoga sessions I can handle. It never bothered me before. But that’s how my life is now: divided into before and after.
Tonight I’m having dinner with Melanie and her mom, Gayle. Growing up, Gayle was like a second mom to me. Even though we didn’t live in the same city, she’d send me letters and accompany Melanie on her visits. Once I moved to Chicago, she insisted I join them for holidays and family get-togethers. I love Melanie’s family. It’s big and boisterous and everything I never had. Gayle welcomed me with open arms, not only because I was Melanie’s roommate, but because I was special to her. I thought Melanie was just saying that to make me feel comfortable, but Gayle told me so herself.
Tonight Mel and Gayle are coming to a restaurant in my neighborhood. Gayle hasn’t been to my new apartment since I moved out of Melanie’s place. It’s nice she wants to see where I live. I straighten up, which for me means a light dusting, and put out a platter of cheese and crackers.
There’s a knock at the door shortly after six. Melanie is on my authorized guest list, so I never need to buzz her up.
“You could’ve used your key,” I tell her.
“I know. But I didn’t want to startle you. I would have if you didn’t answer.”
“Lucy, you look wonderful!” Gayle says as she hands me a bottle of wine.
I thank her then give her a brief tour. Gayle admires my two-bedroom but comments how I need artwork. Maybe that can fill up some of my free time—looking for art. But I wouldn’t have the first clue about where to start.
We open the bottle of wine Gayle brought and settle on my sectional. We have about forty minutes before our reservation. Mel updates us on her students. I’m especially eager to hear about Phoenix girl.
“Alanna? She’s doing OK. Dating this guy Colby who she met in her creative writing class. I encouraged her to sign up to meet people. And she got a boyfriend out of it. See, I told you she would rise above,” she tells me.
But what happens when they break up? I want to ask. But I don’t.
I tell them about the latest with Robica’s nuptials. Gayle loves hearing about my job. She probably can’t wait to plan Melanie’s wedding someday.
“And how are you doing otherwise?” Gayle asks. Melanie’s told her about my situation. It’s funny, she knows more than my own mother.
“I’m fine.”
“I hear you’re taking a cooking class.”
“I am. God knows I could use the help.”
“It’s why we’re going out for dinner,” Melanie jokes.
“Speaking of, where’s Neil? I know he usually joins us.”
“He isn’t feeling well,” Gayle says. “Anyway, Melanie mentioned you have a nice partner.”
“Mom!” Melanie exclaims.
“It’s OK. Yes, James. He’s nice and makes class fun.”
“Is he single?”
“As
far as I know.”
“A man who cooks. Sounds like a dream.”
“Let’s just say he could use some help in that department. But he’s sweet and makes me laugh. We’ll see.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re open to the possibility. What about you, Mel? How are things with Luke?”
“They’re good. He said he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship when we met. But he’s still around. I think he says it more for his benefit than for mine. It’s as if he wants me to think he’s not the relationship type, but his actions say otherwise. So I go along with it, but the more time that passes the more serious things get.”
“Just be careful. Sounds like he has commitment issues.”
“That’s the thing. He’s the one who’s committing. Making plans, wanting to see me more frequently. And when we’re intimate, I can feel that it means something more to him than just sex. We connect on a deeper level.”
I would never talk to my mom about sex. Sometimes I’m jealous of their relationship.
“And Sheeba loves him,” Melanie adds. “She’s a very good judge of character.”
I thought Melanie told me he hasn’t been to her place before. She was annoyed about always having to go by him. But maybe he has. Or she’s trying to justify things to her mom. I keep my mouth shut.
Just then Romeo bounds into the room and settles in Melanie’s lap.
“This guy is a good judge of character too.” We all laugh.
“Honey, from what you’re saying it sounds as though he’s finding his way through this. That he wants to be with you in his heart and his head needs to catch up. I’m happy that you have a connection. But just keep in mind what I said, OK?”
“OK. Where’s Juliet? I haven’t seen her since we got here.”
“She’s still hiding. She loves this spot in the back of my closet. I keep hoping she’ll come out of her shell. See the light.”
“Do she and Romeo interact?” Melanie asks.
“Not that I’ve seen. It’s funny how they share the same space but lead separate lives. Two cats alone in this place, you’d think they’d find some common ground.”