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LANDON KEEPS EYEING ME curiously as he drives through town. I’m sitting in the passenger seat with a sheet of paper in my lap and I know he wants to know what I’m going to do with it. An idea struck me as I flipped through the pages of his book and saw his dog-eared page. I’ve always hated it when I got a book from the library and saw the creases in the corners of the pages. Many may not see anything wrong with it, but after being folded several times, the paper becomes weak and will tear. No one wants to read a book that’s been abused to the point of missing parts of their pages. I know Landon likes to read, I saw the bookshelves full of books lining his living room wall. You can tell a lot about a person by the types of books they read. But you can tell more about them by the way they treat those books too.
I fold the paper several times, making precise and purposeful creases along the sheet. I can feel his gaze wandering over to me several times before we get to the store, but I don’t pay him any mind. I’m still folding and tucking the paper when he walks around the front of the car before opening my door and helping me out. Not even paying attention anymore, I’ve done this so many times it’s all muscle memory at this point, I follow him into the store and watch as he grabs a cart.
I don’t know what all we need since I didn’t take time to go through the cabinets or refrigerator before leaving his apartment. I figure I can just throw out suggestions here and there and see where we end up. We start in the produce department, and I grab a bag of fresh Brussels sprouts and toss them into the cart. A giggle bursts out of me as he eyes the vegetables with a look of disgust.
“Seriously?” he growls low.
“What’s wrong with Brussels sprouts?”
“My grandmother used to make me eat those. I’ve always hated them.”
“Then she wasn’t cooking them right.” I toss him a quick smile before turning back to look for more fresh vegetables.
Challenge accepted.
“Okay,” he starts as he pushes the cart along beside me. “But I make no promises.”
“I can work with that.” I grab a selection of peppers and toss them into the cart. Even if I don’t use them for cooking, I can slice them for snacks. Ralph hated it when I would wander into his kitchen at the diner and eat peppers from the prep station. It’s funny really. Something that I hated so much when I was growing up and now, I can’t get enough of them. I’m still folding the paper into a smaller shape as we continue through the produce.
I grab several different condiments and toss them into the cart. Dijon mustard, mayonnaise, different jams and jellies. I don’t know if he has any seasonings since he doesn’t cook, but I assume he at least has salt and pepper, so I skip those. He grabs a few things that I don’t pay attention to and tosses them into the cart as well. We finish at the meat department where I grab ground beef, a few different roasts, steak, and pork chops.
Finally finished with my paper folding, I slip it into my back pocket for safe keeping. I see him watching me, but he doesn’t ask. I just smile innocently and continue walking beside him as we head for the checkout.
Mentally, I inventory everything we just picked up from the grocery store on the way back to Landon’s apartment. I know for a fact that I’m going to make him Brussels sprouts, but what should I make to go with them?
Landon carries most of the bags from the trunk, leaving me with the lightest three of the bunch. Which is fine with me since I’m still sore, my arms hurt more than anything else right now. Finding a home for all the groceries once we reach the apartment isn’t hard since there wasn’t much food stored away to begin with. My eyes land on the pork chops and I toss the package on the counter rather than put them away. I know what I’m going to make.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you were doing with that paper?” Landon interrupts my thoughts and I laugh before turning to face him.
Pulling the paper from my back pocket, I tell him, “Go grab that book you were reading earlier.” He cocks his head to the side in question before turning to go get the book from the side table in the living room. He carries it back into the kitchen where I stand still facing him with my hand outstretched toward him. He places the book in my hand and stands a few steps in front of me as I open the book to the page he dog-eared earlier.
“It may not mean much to you,” I start as I smooth out the crease on the corner of the page. The paper I folded earlier is shaped into a square, one side divided in half diagonally with the ends tucked under to create an opening. “But I’ve always thought books were amazing escapes from reality. Some of us have realities worth escaping more than others. I used to go to the library and borrow books to read while I was hiding out in my bedroom at home. I hated it when I’d get to a page that someone had dog-eared the corner. Several times, I would get a book that had been dog-eared so many times that the pages were ripping, or missing parts and it killed me.” I slip the folded paper over the corner of several pages in the book, showing Landon how it would mark his place. “Now, you have a bookmark to use. You don’t have to destroy your books anymore.” Closing the book, I hand it back to him.
“Thank you,” he says, holding the book to his chest. I can’t read his expression as his gaze meets mine but at least he likes the bookmark.
“You’re welcome. So how about we start on dinner?”
He sets the book on the counter and walks around to join me in the kitchen. “What do you need me to do?”
“Well,” I start, clapping my hands together excitedly. “I know where all the food is because I helped put it all away. But I need a few things that I have no idea where to get them from.” He nods his head, ready to accept orders, and I smile at his sudden enthusiasm. “I need a baking sheet, a skillet, a knife, a cutting board, and a pair of tongues.”
While he moves around his kitchen gathering the supplies I’ve requested, I step to the sink to wash my hands before gathering all my ingredients and setting them on the counter. Once I have the oven set to heating and the skillet warming up on the stovetop, I begin rinsing the Brussels sprouts and placing them on the cutting board a few at a time.
“Okay,” he cries as he watches me work with the leafy vegetable. “I promised I would try.”
“Yes, you did,” I remind him playfully, elbowing him in the ribs softly. One by one, I slice each of the Brussels sprouts in half and place them on the baking sheet. After sprinkling them with some olive oil and a little salt and pepper, I set them aside to wait for the oven to finish heating.
“You aren’t boiling them?”
“No!” I exclaim. “It’s too easy to overcook them that way and then you get the nasty sulfur taste and miss out on the natural nutty sweetness of the vegetable.
“Hmm. Okay”
Taking the pork chops out of the packaging, I set them on the plastic cutting board and sprinkle pepper on each side. After drizzling a little olive oil in the skillet, I place both chops in the pan and let them sizzle then place the baking sheet into the oven.
“What’s next?” Landon asks.
“I need a bowl and a whisk.” I grab the Dijon mustard, chicken broth, and peach preserves that we bought at the store today and set it all on the counter.
“What on earth are you going to do with all that?”
“You’ll see.” I take a few minutes to flip each of the pork chops before returning to the counter where Landon has placed the bowl next to my ingredients. Scooping out a huge spoonful of the preserves, I dump it into the bowl, squeeze in some of the mustard and a splash of the broth. “Here, whisk this all together.” I stand back and watch as he enthusiastically mixes the sauce for the chops, a smile on my face at the realization of how domestic this seems. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun cooking a meal.
“How’s that?” he asks as he sets the bowl back on the counter.
“Perfect.” Checking the pork chops one more time, I grab the bowl and the spoon I used to scoop out the preserves and split the sauce between the two chops in the skillet. “Now we let those finish cooking then we’re ready to eat.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You made that look so easy.”
“Save the praise for when you get to taste it. I told you, I know how to cook. But I haven’t eaten anything that I’ve cooked in a really long time. I don’t know how good it’s going to be.”
“Well, it smells amazing.” I watch as he walks back to the other side of the kitchen and grabs a couple of plates from the cabinet. He places knives and spoons on the breakfast bar and grabs two bottles of water from the refrigerator and places beside them.
Opening the oven, I see that our leafy greens are perfectly browned and crispy, so I pull them out and set them on the stove next to the skillet. Turning off both the oven and the stovetop, I start plating up the food for us. Holding my plate, Landon grabs his from the counter and I follow him over to the barstools on the other side of the bar. I wait patiently as Landon takes the first bite, of course choosing to try the pork chop first.
Smiling around the food, his eyes go wide as he looks up and turns his head toward me. “This is really good,” he says as soon as he’s swallowed. “Juicy and sweet. Probably the best pork chop I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, cutting off a bite of my own. He’s right, it is really good. Tasting the Brussels sprouts, I’m pleased with how they turned out as well. Perfectly nutty and sweet without the sulfur aftertaste. I look over at Landon and wait for his opinion on the vegetable, I’m anxious to see if I’ve convinced him they were better than he thought.
“Okay, you win!” he exclaims. “These are really good too.”
“I’m glad you approve.” Giggling, I take a few more bites before I push my plate away. Landon finishes everything on his plate before reaching for his water to wash everything down. “So, what were you thinking about doing tomorrow?”
“Well,” he starts before taking his plate to the sink to rinse before placing it in the dishwasher. Reaching into another cabinet, he grabs a plastic container and holds it out to me so I can save my leftovers for when I’m able to eat again. A warm feeling builds in my chest at the encouragement – it might seem weird, but he isn’t pushing me to finish eating knowing that I have to start small. Especially now that he knows how long it’s been since I’ve had a real meal more than once per day and this is technically the third time we’ve eaten anything today. “Did you ever learn how to drive?”
“What?” I freeze, my pork chop hanging at the end of my fork between the plate and the container.
“Driving. I was thinking about teaching you how. That is, if you don’t already know.”
“I’ve never driven. You know how it is living in Independence. The town is small enough that you can walk anywhere that you want to go. There was never any reason for me to learn, and Charlie certainly wasn’t going to teach me.”
“Then, that’s what we’re doing tomorrow. You should learn how to drive.”
Oh boy. This is going to be a disaster.