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He then explained what type of eggs you could use, what type of pans, how much a pinch of salt was, and how much butter to use. After that he explained what was considered butter and why he thought I could do this. In the end, it tasted fairly good.
“Now, it’s your turn,” he said, threatening to poison us both.
“I’m not sure if I’m ready to do it by myself. Maybe you should show me one more time,” I suggested, my hands sweating.
“You can do this. Really, you can. The great thing about cooking is that you get a lot of chances to get it right. You can always add more salt, more butter. You don’t have to be perfect your first time out. Just take your time and do your best.”
I stared at Cali. I had never heard someone say that before. There wasn’t a lot of room for errors in my household. I was a Lyon. We weren’t supposed to make mistakes.
My brother, Remy, was perfect at everything. I was the only one who was too much of a screw up to take care of myself.
“Come on. You can do this. If you get it wrong, we’ll do it again tomorrow.”
“Are you trying to get me to mess up on purpose?”
That got Mr. Grumpy to crack a smile. I liked to see him smile. It sent a tingle through my body when he did.
“We can do this every morning. As long as it takes,” he confirmed with mischief in his eyes.
“In that case…” I said, before grabbing the ingredients and whipping it all together.
I have to admit, what I made didn’t taste half bad. It didn’t taste like the eggs his mother had made. But it would sustain life.
“Do you know how to make waffles?” I asked him as we sat enjoying our spoils together.
“Why?”
“They’re my favorite breakfast food. It might be cool to know how to make them.”
“Then, that will be tomorrow’s lesson.”
“Seriously?” I said, more excited than I should have been.
“I told you, as long as it takes,” he said with a glint in his eye that made me hard again. Eventually, I was going to have to do something about that. Maybe he would help me with that too.
Promising to drive back after he was done with classes, Cali left for the day. While he was gone, I cleaned the dishes. That might not have seemed like much, but I actually cleaned them this time so it took awhile. After that, I got adventurous. I waited for the guests to leave their room and then I went in and made their bed.
Did I know how to make a bed? No. But the internet did. Soon, so did I.
I’m still not sure how the woman on the Happy Housekeeping video got the sheets so tight. But, baby steps. And, look at me. I was really doing this.
When Marcus arrived explaining that Tuesdays and Thursdays were the days that Dr. Sonya sold his pastries using the back deck as a makeshift coffee shop, I was thrown for a loop. When I woke up this morning, I didn’t know how to scramble eggs. There was no way I could handle coffee.
Luckily, Marcus didn’t expect me to. He took care of everything while I sat watching him. The things he did with dough made my feeble attempt at breakfast look like child’s play. I had never realized how many levels there were to cooking. I’d always just shown up and ate what was in front of me. How much of life had I been missing?
“So, is Cali dating anyone?” I asked Marcus, trying to sound casual.
“It’s hard to tell with him. He doesn’t talk much. At least, not to me. But I don’t think so.”
“Has he ever dated anyone?”
Marcus turned to me. He saw right through my lame questions.
“I wouldn’t describe Cali as the sharing type. He was a year behind me at school, but everyone knew him. The girls would talk about him endlessly. They just love the quiet, brooding type.”
“And the guys?”
When Marcus stared at me, I could feel my cheeks heating up.
