Sundays with Shirley

It’d been a long, exhausting week at work. As soon as I entered my apartment, I knew I was in for it. Lulu was sitting on the couch watching the door waiting for me to come home. As I closed the door behind me, she made no acknowledgment, other than to turn away.

I could tell from the stiff set of her shoulders and the way she held her head just what she was thinking. Who do you think you are, waltzing in here more than an hour late! You are in big trouble mister. I am not speaking to you!

Better go make this right, I thought to myself as I joined her on the couch.

“Well, Sweet Girl, how should we spend date night?”

Lulu didn’t respond, opting for the cold shoulder instead, and leaving the decision of how to spend date night on me.

“My choice? Again? Okay. How about we start with some dinner, I am starving, aren’t you?” Still no response. “That beef stew Grandma made smells amazing, doesn’t it? Especially on this cool, fall evening.”

Lulu perked up a little.

“Glad you agree.” Her interest piqued, maybe I could save myself from the doghouse after all. “After dinner, I think we can head on over to the park for a walk.”

At that, she side-eyes me, careful not to move her head and let on that she’s excited.

Keep playing coy. I know your tricks!

“I haven’t forgotten we are due for a movie night. On the way home, we can stop by the theater for some…” I pause for effect, “POPCORN!”

Lulu whipped her head towards me, her face white with age flashing a huge open mouth smile. Her tongue lolled out the right side unconstrained by a missing lower canine. My emphasis on the word popcorn had the desired effect, popcorn is Lulu’s favorite.

“Am I forgiven?” I opened my arms inviting her to my side of the couch, she didn’t hesitate and waddled over, laying her red head on my shoulder as I massaged her ear.

“Since I did all the planning, you’re picking the movie. Deal?” She looked up at me and I gazed into the eyes of the only girl special enough to ever capture my heart. She stared back, and in her eyes, the love and devotion I could see she felt for me, was just as deep as I felt for her. I knew I’d been forgiven.

Her eyes were two different shades, the right a reddish-brown, the color of gingerbread, and the left more of a chocolaty brown. Until recently, both were the same gingerbread color but a couple of years ago one started to change. Melanoma, the doctor said, a type of tumor.

That was one of the most difficult heart-wrenching moments I’d ever experienced. All I could think was not my Lulu, please not my Lulu. Had it not been for Lulu’s habit of feeding off my emotions, I would’ve fallen apart completely. I could feel a tightening in my chest and a stinging in my eyes that I was unfamiliar with, I hadn’t shed a single tear in over fifteen years. Lulu sensed my anxiety and as a result, was on high alert. I wanted to avoid causing her any further distress. Doc was optimistic, he said most times these were benign, just a buildup of pigmented cells, nothing life-threatening. He advised it could cause some vision loss down the line, but that was nothing she wouldn’t adapt to. He ran some tests and sent us on our way with some eye drops saying we would know more before the end of the week.

I had decided to take the rest of that week off to make sure I would be available when the call came in. I wanted to spend as much time with Lulu as possible, monitoring the pigmentation to make sure that it wasn’t getting worse. I was worried that I’d caused this, missed the signs, and not caught it in time. I knew that she could sense my guilt and it made her uneasy, but we got through it together, providing comfort to each other.

By the end of the week, I had been so on edge that I actually let out a start when the phone had finally rung.

“Hello?”

Yes, hi, this is Shelby, from Dr. Peterson’s office, I’m calling for Jacob Michaels.

“This is Jacob.”

“Great, glad I caught you. I just wanted to let you know Dr. Peterson received Lulu’s results yesterday evening and everything is normal. We need to continue the eye drops to prevent irritation and see Lulu every three months to check on the melanoma.”

I’d been so relieved that Lulu was going to be okay, that we’d celebrated with sundaes, chocolate for me, bacon bits for Lulu.

As Dr. Peterson advised was possible, Lulu did suffer some vision loss, also as predicted, she adapted to it well. If she suffered at all, she never let on, she’s a happy girl, a puppy at heart, just trapped in an old dogs’ body. She is my best friend, my soulmate.

“Let’s go, Lulu before we waste away from starvation!”

*~*~*~*

Not even two hours had passed, and I was back snuggling on the couch with Lulu, watching Ratatouille—again. We had both enjoyed our stew, Lulu of course used her droopy hound dog eyes she knew I couldn’t resist to weasel her way into seconds. She insisted that the carrots were good for her eyes, but I knew it was really all about the beef. Since we walked later than usual, it was colder than I had anticipated. The wind bit against our faces, still feeling the warmth that always comes after eating some good comfort food—which Ruthie-Greatest, my great-grandmother’s beef stew definitely was, it made the bite harsher than normal. Since cold weather aggravates Lulu’s arthritic joints we cut our walk short.

I have fond memories of being in the kitchen with Ruthie, she told the best stories about simpler times, what life was like and how it changed just after the industrial age, she would tell them while she cooked up the best dishes. I begged her to teach me her recipes, but she insisted, kitchen work was woman work, and one day when I meet a nice girl and get married, the recipes would be taught to my wife so she could cook for me. I’d been fascinated by the way the individual ingredients, all pretty mundane in flavor on their own, came together to create something amazing when combined, it was magical. I wanted to be capable of creating that magic myself, but eventually, I stopped asking, accepting that my place was outside of the kitchen.

As a result of this acceptance, my skills in the kitchen left a lot to be desired, Lulu even preferred dry kibble bits over anything I attempted to make for us, and if I was being honest they definitely looked and smelled more appealing to me as well. We survived on microwave meals and take out until last Christmas when Grandma Shirley, my dad’s mom, worried that at thirty-five I still hadn’t found a nice girl to marry, discovered mom wasn’t bringing me meals.

That first Sunday after Christmas, Grandma Shirley showed up with a warm crock full of turkey noodle soup and a trunk full of groceries. She was wearing one of the handmade aprons I had gotten her for Christmas, the blue one that was covered in snowflakes and held together with white ties. I tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, no need to put herself out. Lulu’s face told a different story, it said it absolutely was necessary, and I had better not ruin this for us. Grandma Shirley heard none of it, ordering me out to the car to unload the groceries. When I returned, Grandma Shirley had already made her way into the kitchen, Lulu on her heels following her around as she familiarized herself with where everything was. She found the bowls and proceeded to dish up hearty servings.

“All right Jakey, we need to make some changes to this space so it is more functional for me. Also, we need some things, a small slow cooker for one, Tupperware, and a vacuum sealer. Most of your meals will be made in the oven, you know how to turn that on, right?” She paused. She was being serious.

“Yes Grandma, I know how to turn on the oven. But really, you don’t have to—.”

“Hush yourself! Cooking is meant to be shared with someone you love, not for enjoying alone. It hasn’t been the same this past year since Pop passed on. I cooked for that man every day for over sixty-five years, you two are giving me a reason to cook again.”

I couldn’t argue with her reasoning and so it began, our new weekly tradition of Grandma Shirley bringing over meals to get us through the week, just as she did for dad before he married mom, and just like Ruthie did for Pop before he married her.

Lulu would wait by the door as lunchtime approached. Grandma Shirley always had one prepared dish in hand as we greeted her, a quick kiss on the cheek before she shooed me out to bring in the bags. Minutes later, I would return and find Grandma Shirley, fluttering around the kitchen as she served us up helpings of whatever she’d brought in. She and Lulu would be deep in conversation about what the menu had in store for us this week. As always, at least since the one time Grandma Shirley nearly fell trying to avoid stepping on Lulu, Lulu made sure to sit at the edge of the kitchen where she could watch but not be in the way.

We would eat our meal as Grandma asked about our week. Occasionally she would talk about Dad, her disappointment that mom never cared to learn all the recipes she’d inherited from her own mom and Ruthie, and her worry that she wouldn’t be around to teach them to my future wife. Once we’d finished eating, Lulu and I would sit and watch as Grandma prepared a week’s worth of meals, enough for her to take home a serving, and for us to have lunch and dinner throughout the week. As we watched, we listened to stories from the past and details about her week, everything from bingo night to doctor visits, and anything else she found interesting or important.

Reminiscing on our Sundays with Grandma Shirley while watching Ratatouille, I was brought back to my childhood spent in Ruthie’s kitchen. Though my fascination had once again ignited with the magic of cooking, I’d been hesitant to ask Grandma to teach me, worried that, like Ruthie, she would just reiterate that my place was not in the kitchen. Sitting here with Lulu, I couldn’t get Chef Gusteau’s words out of my head, ‘anyone can cook, but only the fearless can be great.’ If a rat can cook, changing the heart of a fine dining food critic, surely there was hope for me and I could convince Grandma to teach me.

Lulu’s snore interrupted my reverie as the movie ended. I scratched her neck to rouse her awake. “Well, Sweet Girl, what do you say, one more quick walk and then off to bed?” She stretched just a little before snuggling back into my lap. “Straight to bed it seems,” I said laughing. “But you better not wake me up at two o’clock in the morning to let you out.”

I knew she would.

*~*~*~*

Grandma was just finishing packing up her portion of the prepared meals. Any moment she would tell me it was getting late and she didn’t want to impose any longer. She would bend down, place a hand on each of Lulu’s cheeks, and ruffle her head gently before kissing her on the snout and promising to see her next week.

I’d spent most of Saturday cleaning, and setting up all the things we would need for the weekly meal prep today. In my head, I’d planned it all out, exactly how I was going to approach the subject of Grandma teaching me to cook. Lulu seemed confused by the anxious feelings she was getting off me and stayed close, watching to make sure everything was okay.

It’s now or never.

“Um…Grandma?”

She stopped packing, alarmed by my apprehension. “What is it Jakey?”

“I think…no, I mean, I would really like for you to teach me how to cook. Your recipes, Ruthie’s recipes, Great-Grandma Eleanor’s recipes, all of them, I want to learn how to cook.”

“Is that what has had you distracted all day? Well, you know how it goes, in this family it is tradition to teach your wife the recipes, even though for some unknown reason your mom didn’t have an interest in learning, I can teach them to your future wife, you just have to find one. I know it didn’t work out with that girl right out of high school, but there’s a girl out there for you Jakey. I know—”

“There isn’t.” I cut her off, stopping her before I allowed her words to convince me not to keep going. I spoke more gently now, “Grandma, there isn’t a girl out there for me. Besides Lulu,” I added in response to the way she cocked her head at me. I scratched her neck, her unconditional love giving me the confidence to continue.

Grandma looked like she wanted to object, I am sure to tell me I just hadn’t found her yet.

“I’m gay.” I blurted. I’m certain there was a more tactful way, but I worried I would lose my nerve. I had never once in my life said those words out loud, not even to myself.

Grandma looked away quickly, but not before I saw the tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t say anything for a long time.

“It’s getting late. I’d better get going.” With that, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door, she didn’t stop to say goodbye to Lulu, nor was there a promise to return the next week.

After more than fifteen years without shedding a tear, for the first time ever, I cried myself to sleep, Lulu by my side.

*~*~*~*

It had been another long week, though this time it was long because of the emotional roller coaster I had been on. I hadn’t seen or heard from Grandma Shirley at all.

As lunchtime approached, Lulu took up her place in front of the door to wait, though she kept her attention partially on me, as I was still an emotional wreck.

“I don’t think she is coming today, Sweet Girl, we may be on our own again.” But as I spoke, Lulu’s tail began to wag in response to a car door closing outside. I opened the door as Grandma Shirley was approaching on the verge of dropping the large box she carried. I caught it quickly as she came inside.

She immediately bent down to say hello to a very excited Lulu as I made my way to the kitchen with the box. “Oh, Lulu, I was such a mess last week, I left without even saying goodbye, can you ever forgive me?”

Lulu licked her cheek in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She stood up and made her way to me while I examined the box.

There were no prepared dishes present, instead, the box was full of battered cookbooks with bits of paper sticking out, well-used notebooks, and binders.

As she unpacked the box, she spoke. “I owe you an apology, Jacob. I rushed out of here last week, and I worry that you may have spent this past week fearing that I didn’t approve, that I was disappointed in you. That couldn’t be further from the truth and I am truly sorry.” She looked at me now, “When I left here last week, I was heartbroken, not because of who you are, but because I failed you. I let you down by not making you feel safe enough to share this with me sooner. I assume you’ve known for a while now?”

I nodded.

“Since you were a boy?”

“Right after high school.”

“And you’ve never told anyone?”

I shook my head.

“I see.” She dug around in the box and handed me a plain white box. “This is for you.”

Grandma Shirley busied herself with Lulu and another package while I opened the box. Inside I found a white chef hat and an apron. The apron, also white, was emblazoned with a cartoon image of me standing above a rolling pin. On the rolling pin ‘Jacob’ and just below that, ‘COOK IN TRAINING.’

I looked up to see Grandma standing next to Lulu. Lulu was now wearing an apron and a chef hat. They were just like mine except personalized with a cartoon Lulu, ‘Lulu’ written across the rolling pin and ‘PROFESSIONAL TASTER’ below. Grandma Shirley’s apron, previously hidden beneath her trench coat, was beautiful. The skirt was bright, each ruffled tier a different color starting from the bottom: red, orange, yellow. There was a smaller lace lined apron in green. The belt that ties around the waist was blue and long enough to come all the way back to the front tied in a bow. The chest and neck ties were purple and written in bold white letters it said, ‘Free Grandma Hugs.’

The words started to blur. I crossed the room quickly wrapping my arms around Grandma Shirley. She hugged me back tightly.

As we released our hold on each other, Grandma quickly wiped away her own tears. “Well, Jakey, let’s get started, shall we? You have a lot to learn, and we have a lot to talk about.”