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“Well…” I started.
She pushed her glasses up, narrowing her eyes behind the lenses. “Do not lie to me, Remy Gagnon. You’re terrible at it.”
“Yeah, it’s bad.” I gave up and set my taco on my plate too. “I didn’t know tacos could be so, so… soupy. And what happened to the beans?” I pointed at the stiff paste. “Were they involved in some kind of industrial accident?”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
“Not to mention there should be a chalk outline around that head of lettuce.”
“Oh stop.” She threw her napkin at me and cackled.
I gave her a wink. “But I applaud your efforts, wife. Even though it was inedible and probably a human rights violation, you tried.”
“I did try.”
“And we’ll figure out the cooking together. It can’t be that hard.”
After we cleaned up the mess, we sat side by side at the kitchen island, munching on microwave popcorn.
“Wanna tell me what made you decide to cook tonight?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I need to learn so I can eat better. For my health.”
“I get that. What causes the gallbladder inflammation?”
“Genetics and stress, but also diet.”
“Ah,” I said, pulling the popcorn bowl closer to me. “So we’ve got to get you off the junk food.”
She scanned my face, shoulders hunched. “Food stamps don’t buy a lot of vegetables. Growing up, I ate what I could get my hands on.”
I blew out a breath. How hadn’t I realized that? There were aspects of Dylan and Hazel’s childhood that I simply couldn’t understand. And there were things, like this, that had Dylan kept from me for years.
“Going home to your warm, comfortable house and a mom who put a hot meal on the table with all four food groups? That is the epitome of privilege, my friend. So watch it.”
I held up my hands. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. And I’m not judging. Just trying to understand.”
“It’s okay. So many people think that healthy, nutritious food is abundant and available everywhere. But it’s not. Those who live in poverty don’t get much choice. That’s why we have poorer health outcomes. I’ve devoted my life to studying this shit. How public policy impacts the health of US citizens. How financial decisions made by jackass politicians impact the lives of real people.”
“That’s amazing,” I breathed out. “You’re amazing.” And I meant it.
She pressed her lips together and surveyed me, though she didn’t respond.
“I get it,” I went on. “But listen, I’m pathetic at cooking too. And I need to eat better for training. We can do it together. Figure it out.”
She snorted. “Now you’re concerned about training? I’m not sure a serving of broccoli will offset the entire pizza you ate last night.”
I poked her in the shoulder, making her squeal. “Do you gotta be so literal all the time?”
She was right, though. I needed to get more serious about my training. And that included diet, hydration, and, most of all, sleep. With a little hard work, I could swing the first two, but the last was a pipe dream.
“I know I’m annoying. But at least that means you won’t be tempted to fall in love with me.”
I didn’t respond. Because I wasn’t sure that was true. Her straightforward nature was charming, and her lack of tolerance for my shit was refreshing.
“What’s the point of my many degrees and years of education if I can’t feed myself properly?”
I shrugged. “You said yourself you didn’t have the opportunity or examples growing up, and you’ve been a little busy being a smarty-pants almost-PhD,” I needled. “And second, don’t you dare doubt yourself. There is nothing you can’t accomplish.”
