Hot Cooking Spanker Wanted (7 page)

“
Why
do you always assume that things will go wrong?”

He
pulled out a shopping cart and gave it to me. Then he shrugged and
got one for himself.

We
went in and he explained this and that to me. He loved to cook and
everyone knew him here. They had no idea about his hobby, obviously.
He listened carefully to hear which foods I liked and what I didn't
like.

He
made fun of me when I grabbed another egg plant. I knew where my
strengths were. Meatloaf was a definite strength of mine. He asked if
I would bring it with next Tuesday. I agreed before I thought about
what that meant. He threw a bag of pretzels and a bottle of
coke-a-cola in my cart.

I
gave him a puzzled look.

“
For
your stomach,” he whispered. I was afraid that he was going to try
to pay at the register but I went through while he was still talking
to the guy at the meat counter. He caught up to me as I was bagging
my things.

He
always had an eye on me, like I was a little kid, that could get into
trouble without his help. That was starting to scare me. Maybe the
rest of his clientele were that needy but that just didn't fit for
me.

He
put the bags in my car and closed the truck for me. Then he put the
bags in his car and shoved our carts together. “This was fun.” He
had his hands on my upper arms to say goodbye this time. “I am so
glad that I was able to help you out. You have my number, don't
hesitate to call, I mean that. I'll see you in a few days. If you
don't feel up to cooking just give me a call or write me an e-mail,
I'll do it then. Take good care of yourself. Have you got your book?”

I
nodded as I looked up to him.

“
Then,
you are all set. Please don't try to make up on lost time working.
Start out nice and slow. If you relapse for whatever reason call me.
I'll come. Promise?”

I
cast my eyes down, but I nodded. I didn't mean it. It was a lie I
hoped I wouldn't be caught at.

He
gave me a one armed hug. He was holding onto the carts with his other
hand. It was windy out and my hair was flying all over the place.

“
Goodbye.”
I looked at him for a second before I got into my car and drove off.
He was bringing the carts back as I pulled out of the parking lot. He
wanted me to know that he wasn't following me.

Friday
– Woke up at nine. Breakfast was just an apple spread throughout
the whole morning. Food stayed in, so I got a little braver with
lunch. Made the spaghetti meal that you wanted me to try. Burnt,
while on was on the phone with work. Made a box of Mac and Cheese.
Again I ate it over many hours. Drank milk with it. Supper salmon
with creamed spinach and potatoes. Phone didn't ring and nothing
burnt on. Drank water. Went to bed around eight.

Saturday
– Woke up at six. Stayed in bed until eight, reading a book.
Breakfast was a fruit salad again. Had the steak and green beans that
you suggested for lunch. Ordered a pizza for supper. Drank water or
milk. The coke you insisted that I buy is starting to gather dust.
The pretzels I will probably eat, eventually. Bed at eleven.

Sunday
– Up and at 'em by seven. Oatmeal for breakfast. A donut snack.
Leftover pizza for lunch. Made a healthy supper so you wouldn't be
mad at me. Chicken breast with rice and broccoli. I don't care for
rice. Bed by twelve.

Monday
– Omelette with cheese and ham. Made myself a hot chocolate, as a
coffee substitute. Three cups later I was hooked. Are you going to
take that away from me too? I hope not. I like drinking something
warm. You know something I can wrap my fingers around. Had a late
lunch, was too filled up with hot chocolate. Decided a banana would
be enough to keep you off my back or – wherever. Supper had to be
something good because I would be seeing you the next day. I made
sauerkraut and mashed potatoes and had sausages with that. A classic
from back home. Bed at eleven-thirty.

Tuesday
– Up at seven with the neighbor's kids. Can't wait for Christmas
vacation. They will sleep in then. Made myself another omelette.

I
showed up at his door with my arms full of Tupperware. Ryan raised an
eyebrow and let me in. He closed the door behind me, took a couple of
bowls and carried them into the kitchen.

He
sat down and watched me cook. He pointed to pots and the things I
needed. Ryan was grinning so big that I figured that he would be
laughing outright soon. I put the meatloaf in the oven and let the
potatoes boil in one of his professional pots. I put the dessert in
the refrigerator. It was a German specialty, I was sure he didn't
know about. I was hoping to teach him something.

I
got my diary out of my bag and gave it to him. I stood there waiting
as he read through it.

“
You
didn't have lunch?” He was worried again. The truth was I was
eating more now than before I met him.

“
The
omelette was really filling. It was more of a brunch.”

“
You
just had one donut on Sunday?”

“
Yes,
just one after church.” I sat down across from him.

“
You
went to church?” He looked amused.

I
felt offended. I guessed letting a complete stranger bare my bottom
and beat on it was a wholly unchristian thing to do. I hung my head
as I felt the sides of my mouth fall. “You said, I should meet more
people.”

“
Did
you?

I
shook my head. “Against every mothers opinion, single men don't go
to church, just married ones do. The only ones interested in me were
going through a midlife crisis.” I sighed then turned around to
make sure that the potatoes didn't burn on.

He
looked a bit mad as I turned back to him.

“
The
banana right? I just usually don't eat three meals a day. I kind of
feel like a stuffed pig lately. If you shove a whole apple in my
mouth, and try to grill me, then I'm outta here.” I looked down at
myself.

I
heard him laugh as I looked up. “You look just fine. Please, don't
start to worry about your weight. The last thing I want to hear is
yet another woman who is worried about her weight.”

“
That
must be annoying when you make something with a fine sauce and some
woman wants to know how many calories are in it. Like a person could
guess that.”

He
was beaming at me again. “Do you know how to make a sauce from
scratch?” He gave me a look, like he was thinking, that someone
like me would never know how to do that.

“
First
a person needs a piece of meat. Wash it under running water while the
frying pan heats up. Depending on personal taste butter or oil is
added to the pan. When hot, not burning, add the meat, step back,
cover and cook meat as desired. Remove meat and add water, shifted
flour and herbs and cream. Stir. And the secret is to add
approximately a tablespoon of orange juice. You have to taste it a
lot to see if it tastes right. Oh, and add salt and pepper when the
meat is in the pan.” I felt like saying 'huh' in a very mean, I
told you so, way.

“
Where
did you learn that?”

“
I
told you I could cook. I just don't like to. Well the worst of it is
thinking about what to cook every day. I'm more of a Sunday cook. One
big meal on Sunday is fun, but three times a day is just, well
bothersome.”

“
Bothersome?”
His face probably hurt from smiling so much. The water was boiling so
I turned it down. I turned and looked at him then. He had gathered
himself in the meantime.

“
You
have a very low opinion of me, don't you?”

“
No,
not at all. I bet you are great in your job, maybe even the best in
your field but everyday things are just beneath you, and they
shouldn't be. I want you to be the best at taking care of yourself,
too.” He opened his arms out wide. He wanted me to sit on his lap.

I
went to my chair. “You do realize that my days only have 24 hours,
just like everyone else's. Work is just more important than eating
and sleeping.”

He
grabbed me and pulled me over to the stove. He turned it off and then
the oven too. I tried to pull away from him but he held fast as he
marched into the living room, dragging me behind him.

“
Please,
let me go. You're scaring me. Please stop.” I was already crying.
How could I have been so stupid? I had forgotten who I was talking
to.

He
forced me over his lap, and started right in spanking me, hard. Not
like last time where he started in slowly. I was in a lot of pain
already, and he was just gaining speed and power. I was bawling, like
a little kid. I couldn't take it anymore. I was shaking and crying,
and he had already been going at me for a couple of minutes. This had
to stop. What was the safe word? I couldn't think of it.

“
Rose,”
I shouted, but only it came out as a whisper. One that he didn't
hear. I repeated it again and again until he did stop. He let me get
up. I ran for the door, grabbing my purse on the way out. I left my
shoes behind.

I
made it to my car before he caught it to me. I ignored whatever he
was saying as I drove away.

I
drove to my apartment and went to bed and cried. I scolded myself for
ever going to his house, and for going again and again. I cried until
I had a headache which didn't go away until I threw up.

I
felt I had gotten what I deserved for trying to put myself in the
place of those battered women. They were one up on me. They had at
least found a man who wanted them. Here I was getting hit by a
professional beater.

I
hated myself so much. I went into the kitchen and started making
myself a cup of coffee. I felt I deserved it after what I had been
through. The coffee tasted funny. It came back up. I sat down on
several pillows and worked on my book. It was writing itself. My
fingers flew over the keys.

I
worked on it for days straight. Only taking breaks to sleep. A couple
of hours here and there. I finished it over a week later.

I
got up to took a shower. I undressed and looked at myself in the
mirror. I looked terrible. I had lost too much weight too quickly. I
seemed to have too much skin for my body. The bruises had long since
faded away, but I could see them as if they were still there. I was
so pale with dark circles around me eyes and my hair was greasy. I
went about putting myself back together.

I
looked in the mirror again. I was still so pale but I could go
grocery shopping now. My appetite was slowly returning. I wanted to
eat something real. I took my basket and walked to the local
discounter. I always took my basket so I wouldn't need a plastic bag.
Living in Germany had changed how I think about bags. You had to pay
extra for them there. I was too cheap for that. Everyone had some
sort of shopping basket.

I
bought myself some apples, fresh milk, butter and eggs. I felt like
making myself some soup so I could really get back on my feet. The
basket was quite heavy by the time I was finished.

I
lugged it back home and checked my e-mails as I unpacked and started
my potato cream soup, from scratch. Pompous jerk, probably thought
that I was starving.

I
needed a better spam filter, I thought to myself as I erased e-mails
for Viagra and e-mails from him. He had written lots. I erased them
all and wiped tears out of my eyes. I was so glad that he didn't know
where I lived.

I
looked around my apartment. It was tiny but perfect for me. It had an
open living room with a huge kitchen area. I nice long bathroom with
a vanity build into the counter. I liked that. I felt like a movie
star when I sat there doing my hair or just doing a facial mask. I
had a small bedroom but it had a walk-in closet so who cared. I had
lots of plants all over. I gave the plants names and talked to them
as I watered them. The apartment also had a balcony. It was small,
but there was room for a little round table and two chairs. I only
needed the one chair but they sold them in sets of two.

My
table in the kitchen was even worse. It had four chairs. Three were
always empty. I sat at the one I always used and cried my heart out
again. I would have to move away from here. Just to be safe.
Somewhere where I couldn't run into him by accident.

He
had served his purpose. My book was finished and I could better
understand my friend. If I had loved Ryan then I would have stayed
with him. He would have beaten me, whenever he thought I had it
coming. And I would have taken it and made excuses for him, taking
the blame.

Yes,
I understood her a lot better now. I had learned that it wasn't my
place to judge her. Not even close. I would help her if she wanted me
to but I would never pressure her again.

I
pulled myself together again, that needed to be done. I gave myself a
pep talk as I ate and reread the book. Adding something here and
correcting something there. When I was finished I would set it aside
for a month and not look at it, then proof read it again.

It
felt good to be able to forget about it. Maybe that would help me
forget him too. I called the Tupperware lady and ordered replacements
for the things I had lost. I had enough shoes to just forget about
the pair lost in battle. I wondered if he even ate the food I had
brought with me.