Chapter 3 [Jack writes]

It was nice to see Sandy this morning. She is a better advertisement for fitness than I. I was looking forward to breakfast now. My frozen, microwavable breakfast didn’t sound at all good now. I could make coffee but was not so good after that. Morning meals were not my specialty, not that others were any better. I was pretty good with a grill but made no claim to greatness. Sandy, on the other hand, could really cook. I didn’t know what breakfast would be but I was willing to bet it would be good.

I left my condo freshly bathed and shaved with my covered mug in hand. I knocked on her door and she opened it and invited me inside. She looked great. Of course, she had looked pretty darn good sweaty from running earlier.

She took my hand and pulled me into her condo. I pushed the door closed with a foot. She didn’t let go but brought me into the kitchen. She sat me down at the kitchen table and poured coffee into my cup after I removed the lid. “Do you need sugar or creamer?”

“No, but thanks.”

“Do you like French toast?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good. That’s what’s on the menu. Would you halve the cantaloupe and put half in the bag. That half goes back into the fridge. Cut the other half in half again and scoop it. The trash is there.” She pointed and went to the stove top and began to cook the toast. I could smell some bacon and saw what looked like some strips. “Do you want two or three pieces of toast?”

“Two is fine.” I was doing a workmanship job of handling the cantaloupe. I saw two shallow bowls and put a piece in each bowl delivering them to the table. Everything else looked under control so I sat down.

In a few minutes, she delivered my pieces to me and served her own plate with one. She divided the bacon evenly. She sat down and smiled. I smiled back and said, “Do you mind if I ask a blessing again?”

She was almost startled. “No, please do.”

I thanked God for the food prepared and its preparer, the time we are given, and to bless the rest of the day. She joined me in the amen again.

“I haven’t prayed regularly since I was married.” She paused. “Except for when I was with my parents in the hospital.” She paused again. “They were both cigarette smokers and cancer got them both almost at the same time.” Tears came to her eyes. “It’s a tough way to see a parent die.” She shook herself.

She looked up with a small smile. “Where do you shop?”

“Usually Wally World. The one close to here has food, too. It saves time. I can start at one end and continue on to pick up canned goods and frozen items, pay, and then head back.”

“Do you buy any fresh items?”

“No. I don’t eat in much. It’s easier to go out and grab something or use delivery.”

“Ugh! You need fresh food.”

“Well, I buy steaks and potatoes about every two weeks.”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

“I’m not much of a home cook. I am pretty good at camp cookery though, but that doesn’t use too much in the way of fresh stuff either.”

She chuckled at me. “It can. Fresh is good for you and tastes better, too.”

“When I go out to eat, I eat salads and fruit like yesterday at lunch. I really don’t care enough about cooking to do more. Maybe more importantly, I don’t have the ability to cook from scratch.”

“I think you’ve never been taught how to cook. It’s not that you couldn’t if you learned.”

We ate some more having finished the cantaloupe and were working on the French toast.

I had eaten about half a piece when I said, “Wow! This is very good. I’ve always liked French toast but this has more flavor.”

“It’s all in the dip. The bread helps. It’s a white whole grain wheat.”

“It’s better than I was expecting even though you set the bar pretty high last night.”

We ate some more in a companionable silence. She said, “Jack, do you have any brothers or sisters? What about your parents?”

“Two brothers and a sister, all married. My parents are both alive. All of them put some heat on me to move back to Mississippi. I thought about it but Macon has been home for twenty years. My kids live here. My son is married to a fine woman. He will be okay if he finds out about his mother. My daughter was divorced about a year before because her husband found someone new and left her. I am afraid that finding out about her mother might be traumatic. I feel like I need to be around just in case. I can always move to Mississippi later.”

“I was concerned that you didn’t care about your kids.”

“I care but they don’t have much use for me. They have my address and phone number through an email that I sent. I’ve been told that I’m the bad guy because I’m the one who left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. I was too busy chasing the dollar while they were growing up. They’ve never lacked. I paid for their college so they didn’t have loans. My daughter never seemed to think I was much of a person. Now, she thinks I am even less.”

“Jack, that’s sad. If they just won’t listen, then all you can do is wait and hope.”

I left the discussion at that since I couldn’t think of anything else to do or say. We finished eating and I helped her clean up. We walked over to my place and I raised the garage door. The top was still down. The list was in the front seat and we were ready to go. I pulled out and drove us to Wally World.

After parking, we walked in and I grabbed a buggy. We started marching up and down the aisles. With the list in hand. she said, “What size beds do you think the camper has?”