xv  - her cooking

   The second time I ever met Alyssa I opened the door and found her bright beautiful face standing there holding out a Tupperware bowl.

“Do you like homemade stew?”  She beamed.

Do I like what? Homemade who? God she’s so beautiful.

“Are you kidding me? I love homemade anything.”

This made her smile brighter. I thanked her profusely, took the Tupperware and in a heartbeat, before I could come to my senses…she was gone. I closed the door lightly and stood there forever, just marveling.

That was my neighbor. Bringing me food? My drop dead gorgeous, hot ****, smelling great neighbor. Bringing me homemade stew? I guess she isn’t mad at me after all. Or embarrassed. Or think I’m some grade ‘A’ jerk. Then again, it does take two to tangle doesn’t it? (Yea, I said tangle) And I’m certainly not mad at her. Or embarrassed. And I don’t think she is anywhere close to a jerk. So…maybe we can get past the whole thing?  

But still…dude! Holy ****. Mind numbing.  

See, if I told you about the first time Alyssa and I met, than her showing up at my door with a bowl of stew would seem a whole helluva lot stranger than it does. Maybe one day I will. But I doubt it. It’s just too…

**** I don’t know. It’s one of those encounters that I would like to forget. But even more so, I love to remember.

Seems peculiar doesn’t it? After all the heartache and **** that I’ve shared with you to this point…that there is actually one place I won’t go. I don’t think I can. Yet.   

Anyway, I had already eaten that night so I reluctantly put the stew in the fridge to save it for work lunch the next day. I sat back down to watch the Rays game and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The stew. Her. My neighbor.

 I went to bed thinking about it. The Stew. And her. And I woke up thinking about her. And it. The stew.

I ate lunch an hour early the next day because I simply couldn’t wait to taste the food that such a beautiful creature could make. Homemade! I’ll be damned.

This will probably come as no surprise to you my friends, but it was the best damn bowl of stew I’ve ever had. Best. Ever.

Tender beef melting in my mouth. Carrots. Potatoes. Garlic flavor.  

No ****. No lie.

Sure, you think I’m biased because I love her. But I didn’t back then. And I swear, I still thought it was the best damn stew ever created.  

Maybe she put a magic potion in it?

Maybe she put herself in it. Little bits of Alyssa. Or saliva. Or juice. You know what I’m talking about. It wouldn’t matter to me. I would eat her every day.  

   Days went by and I didn’t hear anything else from her. So I washed the Tupperware and set it by my door. I wanted to take it next door and knock. Maybe see if she wanted to chat for a minute. Have a beer. Share a smoke. But, I mean…she lives with her boyfriend. I wasn’t too interested in chatting with him. Plus, well…again, there was that whole first meeting that the two of us had…and even though the beef stew seemed to be somewhat of a peace offering, I have to admit, I was still a bit uncomfortable.    

Then one day, it happened. That knock. The timid, by a tiny, sweet, delicate fist, knock. The knock that I would come to cherish. The knock that I hear in my dreams.

I instantly knew it was her. I was unbelievably excited. Still, I sauntered casually to the door and called out lazily, “Who goes there.”

“Alyssa. From next door.”

As if I didn’t know who Alyssa was. As if I hadn’t been thinking about her on and off for a week.    

I opened the door.

“Hey, wow…thanks so much for the stew. It was terrific. Really, really…”

“You’re welcome. I actually spend a lot of time cooking, ya know…cause I’m sort of stuck home all day like bored out of my skull.” She put her hands to her head and shook them while making a goofy, crazy face.

I actually think my first real feelings for her blossomed right then and there. Looking at her making her goofy, crazy face. Eyes bulged. Tongue wagging. Fingers shaking around her head. I knew she was special.

“Oh, ****. Well that sucks. I mean for you. Good for those of us that get to eat the result of your boredom though, right?”

I am such a dweeb.

She smiled at me. Like I was a dweeb.

I quickly turned and got her Tupperware. 

“I bet your looking for this huh?” 

“Naw, I don’t care about that. I’ve got hundreds of ‘em. I was actually just seeing what you were up to.”

“Oh. Um, ****. Nothing. Come on in.”

She breezed by me quickly and her scent penetrated into me. I was done for.   

“You wanna beer?” I asked. Hoping the answer would be…

“Yea sure.”

Exactly.

 The next time it was Chilli.

And my friends, you have no idea…I was so ready. It had been days since the last time I saw her. I would rush home from work. Turn my tv to a moderate volume so I wouldn’t miss her knock. I would run to the bathroom and piss as quick as I could so I wouldn’t miss her. I was ready. Fridge full of beer. Apartment clean. Cologne on.

Told ya, I was done for.

The knock.

I took a deep breath…then called out, “It’s open.”

She hesitated, then turned the knob and pushed. I saw her blond head peak in.

“That you?” She asked timidly.

“No. It’s someone else.”

“Shut up dork. You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked. What if I were an axe murderer or a zombie or something?”  

I smiled.

“Like Zombies knock.”

She grimaced and stuck her tongue out at me. 

Could I possibly be more done for? She had me. I was totally hers. I was…

She held out the bowl.

“Chili. Homemade. But I’ll warn you, I don’t really like hot. So this is pretty mild. I hope you like it.”

She hoped I like it. Isn’t that adorable.

Truth is, I love spicy food. Chili in particular. But she could serve me a plate of her shaved underarm hair and I would devour it.

Too much?

Okay, okay. But I’m telling you…the chili was sensational. Turkey meat. Not spicy, but zesty. Several different kinds of beans. I was in heaven. The only thing that could have made it better is if I could have shared the meal with her.

I told her I was going to save it for lunch the next day and I stuck it in the fridge. (Even though the second after she left I pulled it out, heated it and gobbled it up)

We sat and had a few beers and talked about life.

It was awesome.

Over the course of the next few weeks Alyssa started coming over more frequently and staying for longer periods of time. As our friendship grew there were fewer Tupperware dishes brought over. I mean, I still got an unbelievable bowl of homemade Chicken noodle soup. And a plate of salty, buttery homemade Mashed potatoes. And one time these absolutely mouth watering Brownies. But I think the food gifts were more just an excuse for her to come over without having been actually invited. And once we became close and familiar, no more excuses were necessary. I mean, after the third week my door was always unlocked and I made it perfectly clear to her that she had an open invitation. Any time. Any day.   

But I’m off point again aren’t I?  

Point is she mentioned to me once that she would love to go to culinary school and one day open up her own restaurant. Now, may lightning strike me down now if she isn’t already one of the best damn cooks I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. But still, there is always room for improvement, right? Room to learn new things and expand your horizons?  Room to grow as a person. Learn disciple. Learn about life.     

So instead of responding to this email that just popped into my in-box, asking me if I am into having my diaper changed by a bald Asian woman with a cucumber shoved up her ****, I am going to spend the next few weeks compiling as much information as I can about local culinary schools.

Alyssa deserves to have more than just dreams. She deserves to have them come true. And I aim to make that happen.