Chapter 10: The Next Morning

The Next Morning

What’s your first thought when you wake up? Mine is usually, “Ugh” or “Fuck” or “Damn”, some expletive announcement, even though I don’t always say it out loud. But not on Saturday morning. My head felt better, my life felt better. Roger and I had spent three hours on the phone last night, and it was the second Saturday in a while that I didn’t have to work, so I had woken up late.

“Good morning, mother. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” I asked my mom as I strolled downstairs. In truth, it was gloomier than a drunk teenager, with rain pouring from the skies. The drizzle had started in the night and would continue possibly until Monday morning.

“Wow, you’re up at a decent time for you – eleven – and you’re in a good mood. Everything okay?”

“I slept well last night, what can I say?” I had slept well. After dancing around my room for about an hour after Roger and I had hung up.

“I see. What are you up to today?” She asked me.

“Wanna make me breakfast?”

“Not really. Make it yourself. You’re a big girl.”

“Okay. You want some?”

“No, I already ate. Shouldn’t you be having lunch?”

“Probably. I’m not really sure what I’m doing today. I have a lot of homework to do. A movie or two to watch. You know how it goes.”

I bent over and opened the cupboard that had the pans. I felt like pancakes, and scrambled eggs. I wasn’t really sure how I was going to do both at the same time, but I sure as hell was going to try.

“What are you having?” Mom sipped her coffee and turned back around to the computer game she was playing.

“Pancakes and scrambled eggs, somehow. You doin’ anything today?”

“Shit.” She muttered to herself. “I lost that game. Umm…not really. My entire day is free, actually. What movies are you going to watch?”

“Well if I can’t find any on HBO, either we can go up and rent some at Video King, or there’s always a Scooby Doo marathon on this afternoon. No better way to waste your afternoon than watching Scooby.”

“I see. Umm, how are you going to do the whole pancakes and scrambled eggs thing?”

“I was thinking…” I reached above me to grab a bowl for the eggs, “That I could make the pancakes first after getting everything ready, and then do the scrambled eggs because they don’t take that long.”

“Why don’t you get two pans out? Your eggs will be done by the time you flip your pancakes for the first time, especially if you pour the eggs before the pancakes.”

“Do we have two pans?” I asked her, bending down to grab another pan. I had already grabbed a large one for the pancakes.

“I think we have a small one you can use for the eggs. Tucked away in a corner somewhere.”

“Ooh! I found it!” I reached under the big frying pan still lodged uncomfortably in the cupboard and grabbed the small one. Mom turned around – I saw her out of the corner of my eye – as the entire pots and pans collection proceeded to fall out of the cupboard. “Oops.”

“And you think you’re fit to live alone when you go to college in a year and a half?” Mom asked me, laughing. She got up and walked over. “You can make your breakfast, and I’ll clean these up. I was meaning to clean out the pots and pans anyway. You just gave me reason to.”

“You don’t have to.” I protested, picking up the pan and placing it on the stove top nearby. “I can do it. You have to watch out for your back.”

“My back is fine today. I’ll sit, I won’t squat.”

“Okay…”

I gave up on encouraging mom to take a break and relax. I actually inherited my stubbornness from her, so I gave her a break when she turned it around and became as stubborn as a mule towards me.

I reached into the pantry and pulled out the pancake mix. I glanced at the instructions, written in a bright yellow print across the blue box of mix. It told me to put one cup of mix and three fourths cup of water into a bowl and mix it to get out seven to eight pancakes. Exciting, right?

“How did you sleep last night?” I asked my mother as I carefully measured out one cup of the white mixture. I reached down and rummaged around in the drawer in front of me for a ¾ cup to get the water. My search proved fruitless.

“I slept okay. No bad dreams.”

“Mom, did you steal the three fourths cup? Or am I just crazy? ‘Cuz it ain’t here.”

“Did you check the dishwasher? I might have used it last night.”

“Thanks.” I said, retrieving the clean cup from the dishwasher. The dishwasher was actually still steaming from its finished cycle. I filled the cup with water and poured it into the dry mixture, stirring with a fork also retrieved from the still simmering dishwasher.

Done with the pancake mix, I took out three eggs and cracked them into the bowl. I added a little bit of milk and “scrambled” the raw eggs until they looked less like eggs and more like a bowl of yellow and white mess. I set the bowl down, found the butter spray and sprayed both pans heavily so nothing would stick. I made sure the stove’s burners were on high, and then put the spray back.

I took the container of the pancake mix and poured two bigger pancakes onto the bigger pan that was just warming up. I set the mix down, resolving to put a lid on it and refrigerate it for the next morning, and reached for the bowl of egg mush. I poured that into the smaller pan, forgetting that I needed two spatulas in order to be successful at the multi tasking. And a bowl.
I nearly tripped over my mother, reaching around her to grab a plate from the cupboard above her head. I bounded around the island stuck in the middle of our kitchen in order to retrieve the two spatulas, and then returned to my sizzling eggs, which had almost cooked themselves onto the cast iron of the pan. I began to scramble.

So I almost had it all under control, right? And then the phone rings. In this case, I wasn’t saved by the bell. I was fucked by the bell. I had just put the egg mixture on the pan and was almost ready to flip the pancakes, when my phone started ringing. And it wasn’t a normal ring either. It was the ring that indicated Roger was calling.

“Mom? Can you finish the eggs? Or at least watch them? That’s an important call.” I yelled to her as I dropped the spatula and bolted up the stairs to find my phone. I heard her mumble an affirmative response – I think.

I got into my messy room and located the phone just as it stopped ringing. I hit the “answer” button just in time, and shoved the phone against my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby.”

“I’ll call you back in a minute. Or actually, you can stay on the phone. I’m in the middle of making breakfast.”

“Oh dear gods, where are you?”

“Upstairs.”

“And where is the food?”

“My scrambled eggs and pancakes – shit! The pancakes!” I rushed back downstairs to see mom scrambling the eggs calmly, waiting for me to return. I maneuvered around the island in our kitchen and grabbed the spatula lying next to the pancakes.

“Someone important?” Mom asked, eyebrows mildly raised. I nodded, cradling the phone in between my ear and my neck and flipping my pancakes.

“You still there?” I asked Roger after I had flipped my pancakes. I turned to mom. “Thanks, I’m good now.”

“Okay.” She said. She sounded a little bit skeptical.

“I’m still here, just waiting on you.” Roger’s deep voice rumbled on the other end of the phone. I set the spatula down for a minute and adjusted the phone volume so mom wouldn’t be able to hear his voice.

“I’ll be done in a second. You ever try to do this? Its my first time.” I said to him. I lifted the pan containing the slightly burned eggs and tipped it onto the plate next to the stove. As far as I was concerned, they were done.

“Did you sleep well, flower?” He asked me. I could tell he had been awake for at least an hour, because he had his sense of humor intact.

“Now that’s not fair, buttercup. My mother’s in the room, and she’s going to be giving me very weird looks.” I said to him as I clattered the pan into the sink loudly, trying to cover up what I was saying. Mom had become reabsorbed in her game.

“Oh, but sweet cheeks, you teasing me in front of my friends isn’t exactly fair. And we weren’t even going out then.”

“We are now?” I asked him, laughing. “Shit, pancakes!”

“Don’t fuck with me. And don’t set the kitchen on fire.” He said to me as I rushed to get the pancakes off of the pan. “Why I will never let you cook for me…” I heard him say as I flipped the second pancake onto my plate. I shut the gas off to the flame and set the pan in the sink.

“It all turned out alright.” I protested his comment. “I can cook just fine, thank you very much.”

“You abandoned your cooking to answer your phone. If your mom wasn’t there, your eggs would have burned, your kitchen would have burned down.”

“Well I had to answer the phone.”

“You did?” He asked. I pulled the butter out of our refrigerator and began to butter my pancakes.

“Of course, it was you. We have things to talk about that can’t wait for my breakfast to be cooked.”

“What important things? Like me fucking you?”

“Exactly.” I said, without missing a beat. Right at that moment, food was my primary instinct, not sex. Later on, as you’ll find, I’ll be described as the horniest person he knows. I can, will, and have tired this man out.

“So how are you feeling this morning?” I asked him.

“Good, good. My old bones aren’t feeling too bad. Yourself? I hope I didn’t keep you up too late last night. I know you were tired.”

“Nah, I’m good. I was up for a bit after we got off.”

“We didn’t get off.” He pointed out. “We just talked a while. I’d remember if we got off together last night.”

“I really need to tell you food is the most important thing on my mind right now. We’ll talk about those things after I’m done eating. Did you want to stay on the phone with me while I eat, or do you want me to call you back when I’m done?”

“I don’t mind listening to you chew.” He said. “I have to run a few things by you anyway. We’re not telling anyone on the site about us. And I probably shouldn’t even bring it up, but nothing changes on the site because of this, right?”

“That’s right. We’re still fifty-fifty on our decisions. And the two things stay separate. That’s like, a gods-given law.”

“What? Our relationship and the site? Of course.” He agreed with me. I sat down with my plate of food and glass of milk.

“Shit. Ketchup.” I muttered to myself. Mom looked up at me, laughing.

“Someone should really teach you how to multi task, Storm. You don’t do it very well.”

“Be quiet, mom. You’re no better than me when it comes to remembering things. That might just be because you’re old, though.” I grinned and stuck my tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes and went back to playing her game.

“You should be nice to your mom.” He commented as I got the ketchup and sat back down. “And what in your breakfast plan requires ketchup to make it enjoyable?”

“The scrambled eggs. You can’t have eggs without ketchup. Its preposterous.”

“That’s disgusting. You’re an odd, odd duck, Storm.”

“Its good!” I poured the ketchup over my eggs and stuck my fork in to retrieve the first mouthful.

“Odd, odd child.”

“Storm?” Mom asked me, and I looked up from my breakfast. “I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but have you fed the ferret?”

“Oops.”