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“I don’t know. Until it smells right.”
“How much of the mixed vegetables do you pour in to the pot?”
“A third of the way. Sometimes a half.”
“The size of the pot doesn’t matter?”
Like I said, he was not prepared for someone like me.
To his credit, every time I asked a question, he thoughtfully answered. It made learning incredibly less stressful. My father once taught me how to spot a counterfeit hundred-dollar bill. It was the last thing he ever tried to teach me. With Cali it felt nothing like that.
Although the two of us sat and talked for longer than we intended—again, with me doing all the talking—we weren’t there for too long before Cali apologized and announced that he was heading up to bed.
“It’s been a long day. I stopped by the hospital before I came home. Seeing my mother like that takes a lot out of me.”
“No, I understand. You should rest. And if you think you won’t be able to teach me how to make waffles in the morning, don’t worry about it.”
“Are you kidding? That’s gonna be the highlight of my day,” he said, turning me into a puddle on the floor.
“So, the football player…” I told Dillon when I called him that night.
“Yes…?”
“He is so cute. He’s teaching me how to cook!”
“So, he’s a football player and a miracle worker?”
“That’s what I’m saying. And a saint.”
“Okay, now I’m pretty sure you’re making this up. Because, let me tell you, I’ve dated some of the guys out there and none of them are like that. If they weren’t all so hot, I would date women and never look back.”
“Would you?” I asked doubtfully.
“Okay, fine. I would continue dating them and complain more.”
“I don’t know. Guys seem pretty great to me,” I said, thinking about the way Cali looked at me.
“Says the virgin who met the perfect guy on his first attempt.
“I didn’t say he was perfect.”
“So, what? Perfect adjacent? That’s still a pretty good neighborhood.”
“He’s a pretty great guy,” I told my friend, falling for Cali a little more.
Waffles were a lot more complicated than I thought. There was something called a batter with a ton of ingredients and you needed a waffle maker. Luckily, Cali had one. On top of that, you had to know exactly when to turn the contraption off with nothing but the way it smelled.
What the hell? There was no way I was ever gonna get this. But they sure tasted good.
“Do you have any berries?” I asked, remembering the waffles I had had in Belgium.
“I don’t think we do. But they’re in season. I’m sure we can find them somewhere around here.”
I paused.
“What do you mean?”
“If you are interested in berries, we can go pick some.”
