Sunday, January 22, 2012

C is for Cookies

            One of Ex’s favorite things to do when he was bored was make cookies. He spent days on the internet, trying to find the perfect recipe. He would find one that he thought looked good, make it, and then continue on his pursuit of the perfect cookie.
            I came home one day to find the house smelling great. Ex came striding proudly out of the kitchen, holding a plate with a cookie on it. I tasted it. It was absolutely delicious. Ex had done it – he had made the perfect cookie. It was a chocolate cookie with white chocolate chips. The edges were crispy and the center was moist and delicious. I don’t even like white chocolate, but that cookie was amazing. I asked him for another one.
            There weren’t any more. He had eaten the entire batch, saving one for me. You may think I am mad that he only saved one for me. No, I am surprised that he saved that one cookie for me to try. I think the only reason he wanted me to taste it was so he could show off his perfect cookies. Normally, he did not think of things like saving me a cookie.
            At the time, I was working three part-time jobs and going to school full-time. Ex stayed home all day, collecting unemployment. All he did was surf the internet and make cookies. One night, however,  I came home late, and Ex told me he was making dinner.   He said he knew how hard I worked and he wanted me to take it easy while he made dinner.
I was touched by his kind consideration.  I put my things away and took a text book to the couch to study while he cooked. I had learned long before that he did not want my company, so even though I would have preferred to be in the kitchen talking to him, I stayed away. He took forever, and I was starting to get really hungry. Then I heard him turning off the oven and getting things out of cabinets and drawers. The smell of hamburger permeated the whole house. My stomach rumbled in anticipation.


Then it was fairly quiet for about ten minutes. I was starving, it was late, and I wanted to eat, but I stayed out of that kitchen. Ex was being nice and I did not want to do anything to mess that up. Then I heard him washing something. Turns out, it was his dinner plate. Yes, Ex had made dinner. For himself.

I had cereal while he was in the shower.

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Don't make me talk to myself, yo.

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