Cooking

She looked beautiful, calm and relaxed. She was a sight at any time but when she was sleeping, really sleeping, she was radiant. He bent down over her and listened to her breathe for a moment. Then he reached out to put his arms under her and hug her, she hugged back almost immediately if a little groggily. “I love you, so much.” “I love you just as much.” He didn't let go, didn't want to. He kissed her cheek and smiled as she moved her head to the side to refuse him a kiss on the lips. “I hope you have a good day, sweetheart. Good-bye, love.” “You too, good-bye, love.” He walked out of the room, looking back one time to see that glow again, smiled, and counted his blessings. Nothing hurt when she was holding on to him.

He grabbed his cooler off of the kitchen floor, checked for the third time to make sure his insulin was there, put his wallet in his back pocket and headed out the door. It was 6:30 in the morning and he had time to stop and get ice for his cooler, some smokes, and much needed caffeine. Not that the caffeine really woke him up any more, it just kept him from sleeping. He would get to the office early and have time to sit in the sun for a few minutes before anyone else got there. It was going to be a long day today, he would probably miss supper, and he was worried he would be too tired to do anything but shower and sleep when he got home.

“Good morning, ready to get started?” “I'm ready to be finished.” That was the end of that exchange. There wasn't a lot left to be said. He put his drink down and headed back to fill in his time card, at least he didn't have to “punch” it. It would be another 12 hour day, busy week, and he hopped that the boss man would get a little tight and give him Friday off. He could get some chores done around the house and be home when everyone else got home.

His cohort walked in the door. “Morning.” “Morning.” “You ready for this?” “Everyday.” “Let's roll.” “Alright, you drive and I'll drive back.” “Works for me.” He grabbed his cooler and headed for the van, he had to wait for the door to be opened from the inside because it didn't from the outside. He sat his cooler down, grabbed an apple, buckled his seat belt, and put his sunglasses on. “I'm glad she finally talked you into wearing sunglasses.” “Why?” “Because, and don't take this wrong, there are some times when you've got this look in your eyes like you're about 4 minutes away from burning down the whole city.” “Well, I don't have a poker face and sometimes I am. It's usually more like 6 or 7 minutes though. There would be time for you to have a head start.” He took his shades off and looked to his left. “You're an asshole. Stop looking at me like that.” “Change the subject.”

“What did you do when you got home last night?” “Cooked some shrimp kabobs and red potatoes on the grill.” “How did you cook the shrimp?” “I took a cup of honey, a cup of Italian dressing, some chili powder, mixed it all in a big ass Ziploc bag, let it marinate for about an hour, then cooked then for a few a couple minutes on each side and used the marinade as a baste.” “Sounds good, was it?” “I cooked a couple pounds of it, and she and I ate it all.” “Guess it was then.” “You like to cook don't you? You talk about it a lot.” “I love to cook. It's the closest thing to making love that you can is safer to do with your clothes on.” “What?” “What, what?” “You're crazy.” “It runs in the family.” “Explain what you mean.” “It'll take a minute or two.” “I'll listen.” “I'll lay it out plain, it's metaphorical, but you're a smart dude.” “Thanks.” “You've got to get things warmed up first, then you get everything laid out in front of you, within easy reach, you need some room.” “Aw, come on, man.” “I”m done, turn the radio on.” “I'm kidding!” “You don't need a recipe, unless you're baking, just some ingredients, some love, a general idea of what you're doing, and then you make a mess. That's it.” “You're still crazy but I appreciate the imagery. I'm going to stop up here so I can wash my ears out.” “I could have went into way more detail like the difference in cooking roux and cooking gumbo.” “What's roux?” “The base for a good gumbo.” “You don't make any sense.” “I make plenty of sense to me.”

“You think if I've got over 40 hours Thursday that he”ll tell me stay home Friday?” “He didn't tell you?” “No, tell me what?” “We've got a rush job Friday, has to be finished that day.” “How big?” “Two days worth, easy.” “Shit.” He tossed his apple core out the window, put his sunglasses back on, lit a cigarette, and opened his phone to send a text. “I miss you, love.”