Home Is Where Your Food Is

Tyler leaned in for the last bite of corndog when the smell of…Tacos?…Yes, definitely tacos…hit him full in the face. Hunger came anew. Just last week he’d been a happy, carefree guy enjoying three feasts a day at the dorm dining hall. After fending for himself this last week he was definitely on edge…and desperate. Just desperate enough to throw Coronavirus caution to the wind and hunt down those tacos.  

He stood up from his raggedy blue lawn chair, stretching as he surveyed the area. Most of his neighbors kept to themselves. Especially now that they’d been ordered to stay at home. I need you tacos. Where are you? His gaze caught sight of his next-door neighbor standing over her sink, window opened wide. When she turned, he seized his opportunity to get closer. Crouching below the sill he took in a deep breath. Bingo. He hadn’t really thought through the specifics of his next steps. Ma’am can I please have some of your tacos? His logic said, No man, go back home. But his stomach disagreed, We can’t eat anymore corndogs. As his body warred within, gravity decided his fate. The bucket that had helped him get close had now betrayed him by collapsing with an exploding crack.  

He heard a small shriek and then a panicked voice, “Hey, what are you—. Tyler?”        

Popping up he leaned closer to the window to peer through the screen. His eyes lit as recognition dawned…”Tia.”

Both stood speechless. Blinking up at her he remembered everything at once. Mud pies, chocolate chip cookies, driving in the pasture, lemonade, swimming in the pond, killing the rattlesnake but his mind landed on the last time they’d stood face to face. A moment he hadn’t thought of in years. They’d been 13 standing on her grandma’s porch saying their goodbyes, as they did every year at the end of the summer, but that year something had changed. His desire to best the little imp had been replaced by new urges like pushing back her hair, reaching for her hand, and putting his lips on hers. She had been yammering on, arms waving and ranting about something, but he hadn’t been listening. Do or die, eyes on her lips, he’d swooped down. The kiss was short, but sweet. Pulling back a few inches, eyes questioning, but they’d had no time to explore. His mom popped out the front door, announcing it was time to leave.  

She still wore her shiny blond hair pulled up and her light brown eyes reflected the same kind expression, but she had definitely taken on a more womanly shape. He noticed how her dusty red apron hugged her tight revealing, a set of curves that sent heat flashing through him. His eyes flew back to the safety of her face. With an incredulous laugh he said, “You are the LAST person I expected to find in there.”

With a touch of tease but also pure curiosity she asked, “Just who DID you expect to find?” 

“I can explain…” Stalling, he waved to his elderly neighbor across the street pulling dandelions. Just tell her the truth, “The truth is…I smelled tacos.”

Arms crossed, eyebrows up she looked at him skeptically, “And…you thought you would…snatch them from my window?”  

He shrugged his shoulders, “I thought someone might take pity on a starving college boy?”  

Her face scrunched in confusion, “You’re saying...you want me to give you some of my tacos?”

His expression was sheepish, “Well…” And then the corndogs appeared in his mind encouraging him to press on, “yeah...I mean…yeah”

The flash of her honey brown eyes suggested she was more than ready to claim the upper hand. “Ok. What’s in it for me?”  

Rubbing his bearded face he mumbled, “Should have known this wasn’t going to be easy with you.”

Mentally running through his inventory he continued, “Um..I have coke?”

She scrunched her nose.

“I also have…Cheez-Its! I remember you like those.”  

She gave him a you-can-do-better look. Ok dig deep. Looking around he noticed the yard was in sad shape. “As I recall Miss Tia, you hate yard work. I could take care of the lawn for you.”  

Narrowing her eyes skeptically she responded, “You’d do that for a plate of tacos?”

“You’re right that does seem out of balance. How about you…make me supper…” and then quieter and with a nonchalant shrug as if to suggest it would be no big deal he added, “…every night.”  

Her wide eyes pinned him to his spot in her yard. She stared so long. He could see the wheels turning, but he was prepared to hear no.  

Thinking through her possible objections he added, “I’ll eat whatever you’re eating, and I’ll pay for the groceries.”

Her eyes perused the yard and then came back to his, “Ok fine.”

He was feeling more than fine. A real live woman who, if he recalled correctly, had grown up with some fantastic cooks, was going to be making him supper every night. His mind wandered back to the years when his mama had made him chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, rolls, barbecued pulled pork, fajitas. Oh and desserts! Berry cobbler, chocolate cream pie, s’more brownies. His chest squeezed at the thought of home. He planned to move back after he finished school.  

Breaking into his reverie she asked, “What do you want on your tacos?”

“I’m not picky. Surprise me.” With her focus on the food he was free to watch her as she moved around the kitchen. The sun had set making it easier to see. The apron drew his attention again as she pushed a drawer closed with her hip. It was definitely old fashioned with it’s white eyelet trim, heart pockets, and over the shoulder design. Something about the sight of her in that apron, making him dinner made his heart thud slow.   

Before he was done sizing her up, her arm stretched out the window, a bag dangling from one finger, “Here you go sir.”

He reached for it, “You’re the best.” He looked up, eyes on her face this time. Was she…blushing? Heaven help me…with a cocky grin he turned. This year might turn out ok after all.   

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Over the past few weeks they had settled into a routine. Around six o’clock Tyler grabbed a coke and drug his ratty blue chair close to her window. They’d agreed…well…she’d insisted…they would follow the six feet social distancing rule since he was still seeing customers and going to work every day. He hadn’t been surprised. The Tia he knew was a rule follower to the core and he’d learned at a young age when to push and when to go along. She’d compromised by taking the screen out of the window, allowing him to see her more clearly.

His mind had been spinning after that first night. How had a beautiful blond lived next door for 3 months without him noticing? And not just ANY beautiful blond. A beautiful blond he’d had a crush on, pined over, still dreamed of on occasion, and had actually kissed in real life. After the first few nights, he’d made his decision. He still wanted her. Obviously, she was beautiful and kind but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what drew him so much. All he knew was that she made him feel at home. If this pursuit was an utter disaster he may have to move, but he had to go down the road to find out or he knew he’d regret it.  

To his surprise - and his stomach’s dismay - he had overestimated her cooking abilities. Most nights were… tolerable, and other nights had him longing for those corndogs. The worst so far had been gooey burnt pancakes, pasty mashed potatoes, tough roast, and some bland, soupy enchiladas. He shivered at the memory of the foreign textures. He’d begun to ration his pre-dinner coke so he’d have enough to wash it all down with.  She could bake a few things. Those heavenly, warm, oatmeal cookies transported him back to those afternoons he’d spent with her roaming the Texas countryside. She didn’t seem very discouraged so with a little more practice he had faith her cooking skills might improve over time.  

_______________________________

When she turned he held in a laugh that most certainly would have spewed coke everywhere. A red bandanna covered most of her face and she was wearing yellow gloves like the ones his grandmother had used to clean the toilet.

Holding his hands up in surrender he said, “I see you now. Gain my trust with food, then rob me when I’m not expecting it.”         

Pulling her gloves on more tightly she said, “I’ll have you know these are for your protection so I think what you mean to say is…’thank you.’”

He knew she was taking the recommendations very seriously, but he never tired of pushing her buttons.   

“Tia…when was the last time you left the house?”  

She tilted her head in thought. “A month ago.”

He settled into his chair, leaning his head back to rest. “And have you had any symptoms of Coronavirus?”

She took the bait, “Well no but I did have groceries delivered today so possibly I’ve been exposed. You never know!”

Leaning forward he feigned a concerned expression, “Are you telling me you didn’t dip them in Clorox this time?”

Brown eyes sparking, she turned from the stove and pointed the wooden spoon she’d been stirring with right at his face. “I do NOT dip them in Clorox.”  

He arched an eyebrow and waited for the explanation he’d already heard before. Three…two…one…

Hands in motion she began, “I follow the recommendations. I have a dirty zone and a clean zone. When groceries come in I put them in the dirty zone, then wipe them down with Clorox wipes and move them to the clean zone to be put away.” She looked as stern as a kitten and it amused him to no end.  

Shaking his head he knew it was time to let it go.  He’d sit back and enjoy the show. With an amused gaze he changed the subject, “Well I’m sitting in the hungry zone right now. What’s for dinner?”

“Chicken pot pie,” she said, spinning to stir the pot on the stove.    

His mouth watered, “Your grandma’s specialty if I remember correctly.” He’d call it a success if it was even half as good.  

“Yep. I probably helped her make it a hundred times,” she said proudly, chancing a look up at him.

Locking his eyes with hers he winked - lying a little, “I knew I was in good hands.”  

He decided to let her concentrate for a few minutes before he spoke again. Scrolling through the music on his phone he suddenly had an idea. “Do you remember driving around the pasture playing Name That Tune?”  

“Of course, it was the only nonathletic game you could ever beat me at,” she said as she bent to stick the pot pie in the oven.

“Hey now,” he said with indignation, “I could hold my own in a game of slap-jack.”

 “True enough,” She pointed to her middle knuckle, “I’ve got the scar to prove it.” 

“You mean that one time I scratched you left a mark?” He popped up to examine the evidence reaching for her hand, but she pulled it back.  

Sitting down he pressed on, “Let’s see what else you remember?”

She rolled her eyes hopelessly, but didn’t protest outright.  

He pressed play on a few songs he knew she would know…to build her confidence. Oh, sweet gravy.  She was two for six, but seemed to be enjoying it so…he began, sending his message one song at a time. Songs that declared love in no uncertain terms. He knew it was super risky, but didn’t all the good things require risk? He’d never been one to wait and see. Always acting. Always moving. He stood up and slowly made his way closer to the window. She pretended not to notice the mood that was being set by bustling about the kitchen, but on the fourth ballad she paused, eyes slowly lifted to his. He held her gaze, silently confirming everything he hoped she’d heard, wishing he could make it more clear by pulling her into his arms. Maybe someday she’d let him in.  

Beep, beep, beep, beep— She bolted across the kitchen to shut off the timer and pulled out the pot pie. “It’s ready.” 

He’d let her distract him…for now.  

_______________________________

Head pounding Tyler plopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. Work had been brutal. He didn’t get headaches very often, but this one was out for blood. He’d showered hoping it would calm his muscles, but no. His stomach turned. Peeking at the clock he saw he still had thirty minutes before she’d be expecting him.    

The next thing he knew his front door slowly creaked open and someone stepped in. He lay perfectly still trying to conjure a rational explanation, but he just couldn’t. Most of his friends had gone back home to be quarantined. He didn’t know any of his neighbors…well except Tia, but he couldn’t imagine her setting foot outside her own door let alone waltzing into his house. When he heard her voice his eyes popped open and glanced at the clock - seven thirty. He’d flat missed supper. Had she ventured out to check on him? Warmth purled through his veins at the thought. Quickly throwing on jeans and a shirt, he began formulating a new plan.  

He heard her moving through the house and then spied her across the hall, mask and gloves in place as she slowly turned the knob to the spare room. Moving silently he slipped behind her and stepped as close as he dared. She popped her head in the room and called his name. He held his breath, waiting for her to turn.  

When she did they were nose to nose. She shrieked in surprise and jumped back, but his arms reached for her, one slid around her waist, the other snagged her shirt. He pulled her against him. Now what? He’d only intended to scare her, but the feel of her against him was too much. Reaching up with one hand, he hooked one finger in her mask and pulled down to reveal pink parted lips. It was do or die time, eyes fixed on her lips, he tilted her chin up. Bending he brushed his lips across hers for the briefest of moments. He expected it to be similar to their first kiss, but almost nothing was the same. That one had been curious, this one was full of desire and hope for what could be. Pulling back he searched her face for permission to continue, but her eyes stayed closed. If that wasn’t an invitation he didn’t know what was.  

Swooping back down before she changed her mind he deepened the kiss pouring out all the longing he didn’t know had been building in him. She had been very still, but suddenly she was squirming. No, just a little longer. When her arms broke free he heard the gloves drop behind him. Then her hands were everywhere, running up and down his arms, behind his neck, and finally rested on his chest. Suhweet Tea-Uh. He now realized she’d been right. Those gloves really were for his protection. Fire consumed him and he fought for control over his own hands, not wanting to ruin this glorious beginning.  

Gentling his hold he buried his head in her neck, breathing deeply until his pulse returned to somewhat normal.  

Pulling back he gave her a mischievous grin, “And just what do you think you’re doing coming into my house during a pandemic? Don’t you know you could be asymptomatic? Haven’t you heard of social distancing?”  

Disgusted at his mocking tone she shoved him back, “I was just….well…when you didn’t come for dinner I…I was worried something had happened.”   

A sense of well-being washed over him. She cared about him and that was a good start. “For someone who Clorox’s their own doorknobs every day you sure are being reckless,” he said with a tease. 

 She singed him with a glare and turned to go. Dragging her back he pulled her close and gave her a sweet peck. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”  

To his utter delight, he found his birthday meal - chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, corn, and chocolate cream pie - waiting for him at her house. And it actually looked great. Reaching for her hand he asked, “How did you know?”

Blushing slightly she said, “I remember you telling me about it.”

This was a birthday he definitely wouldn't be forgetting. The world may have been falling apart, but his world was continuing on in directions that filled him with hope for the home he longed to build.