“Hey love, I’m home.” Mallory shouted out, stepping through the door of his long-term girlfriend, Brielle’s townhouse. He quickly flipped off his shoes and aimlessly threw them in the corner. He wandered through the townhouse, looking for Brielle, and found her in the kitchen. He leaned on the bar watching her become frustrated with a pot of hot water. “What are you doing? You know you can’t cook.”
“Ha, Mallory! I’m trying.”
“That’s not why I’m with you.” He walked up behind her and kissed her on the neck.
“I know. You love my paintings.” She paused for a moment, embracing his caress. She missed him so much and wanted to visit but she was banned from hospital. She prayed everyday for a miracle to save Mallory from Marc’s fury. Little did Mallory know she was the sender of his savior.
Mallory leaned on the counter, watching Brielle aimlessly stir the water in the pot. “Okay…we can start with that.” Mallory leaned over the stove, surveying the contents in the pot. “Bre… I love you. You are my heart’s desire and my sole source of happiness.” He grabbed her waist and began kissing her neck again. “But, I’m not eating that shit that you are cooking.”
“Mallory!”
“No, ma’am. I think you are trying to kill me.”
“I’m not trying to kill you. Not that way…”
“Sex wouldn’t kill me either.”
“So you think.” She backed away from the stove and gave Mallory her apron. “I don’t want you to think that you have to cook every time you come over here.”
He grabbed the apron. “Well, I don’t want you to think that I want sex every time I come over.”
“You do!”
“Yes, but I don’t want you to think it.” He laughed. “You know that I don’t mind cooking. It helps be relax and my great Grandpap said that women don’t belong in the kitchen. That’s too much power to give them. Listening to Marc, I understand why.”
“Where did they belong?”
“In bedroom, for sure, and out in the fields…somewhere else - making money.”
“Your Grandpap was a different kind of sexist.”
“Yes, he was. He was the very one who stood up for Women’s Rights. They deserved rights to equal treatment and he deserved the right to keep them out of his kitchen,” he laughed.
“Do you believe that?”
“Yes, to a point. Unless you own a restaurant, I don’t want you in my kitchen. But I’m particular, you know that.”
“You’re a sexist.”
Mallory paused for a moment. “I want to be sure of something,” he began, grabbing a knife. “Are we about to have an argument about me not wanting you in the kitchen but instead, wanting you in front of your canvas painting your passion?”
“Point.” Brielle walked out of the kitchen. “How was your day?”
“Long…I’m so tired. I think it was a mistake coming back to the company after…” Mallory paused, the changed the subject. “What were you trying to cook?”
“Spaghetti?”
“With leaves?”
“Bay leaves…”
“This doesn’t look like bay leaves.”
“Oh, Mallory, shut up!”
“I’m pouring this out, aye?” Mallory began his weekly ritual of cooking. He carefully sliced onions, bell peppers, and garlic. He meticulously caramelized his garlic and bell peppers in olive oil and combined stewed tomatoes with chicken. His pasta was cooked to perfection. After a time at the stove, he walked over to Brielle with a serving spoon to provide her with a taste and waited for her approval.
“Mmm…tastes good.”
“What is this?” He tried to decipher her latest creation on canvas.
“A vision I had last night.”
Mallory looked at the concept of the drawing. Although he couldn’t make out if the subjects were humans or not, it was in the shape of a triangle. “This is not about me, is it?”
“No, arrogant ass,” she lied.
He walked away. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.”
Tears fell from her eyes because she knew that she was going to lose him again, and this time it might be for good. She couldn’t tell Mallory of his next fate because he would never believe her. She wiped her tears and stepped away from the canvas. “Dinner looks good.”
“Dinner is good. Sit, I’ll serve you.”
“You spoil me.” She sat down slowly watching Mallory’s every move. As he effortlessly placed the noodles on her plate, she became lost in his gaze. He moved closer to her, placing the plate down in front of her. She could hear the sound waves of his voice, but she couldn’t make out the words. She studied his face - every expression, every smile, and every frown. Uncontrollable tears fell from her eyes again. She could see Mallory standing up and walking towards her. He kneeled down beside her and she could see him talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him. He eventually shook her gently and she snapped out of her mode.
“Brielle, can you hear me? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, my almighty.”
“What is about to happen?”
“Nothing, why?”
“Every time you call me that, something happens.”
Brielle looked away. “That’s not true.”
“Wager?” Mallory stood up. “The last time Marek went away. Who’s going away now?”
“No one.”
“Is Marek coming back?”
“Mallory, I don’t know.”
“Why are you crying?”
“Because,” she cupped his face. “Because, I never realized how much I love you.”
“Bullshit, Bre! That’s my line. You can’t use my lines.”
She smiled. “You are silly. I’m just happy. Is that better?”
“No.” He paused. “I will let you have this one, but you are on notice.” He got up and moved his plate closer to hers. “I think I’m going home tonight after dinner.”
“What, no sex?”
“Funny. No, and it’s not like I’m not in the mood. I can’t explain it.”
“Chanice wore you out before you got here!” She slammed her fork down on the table.
“Oh…here we go again?”
“Mallory, I know about all the other women.”
“And we are off…I knew this argument was coming.” He slapped his face with his hands. “Have you noticed that we interact in a cycle? We get along for three days wonderfully. But, that forth day we just argue, and it’s about stupid stuff. Then, we won’t see each other for a couple of weeks. And it starts all over again.”
“This is day three.”
“It’s getting worse. Brielle, I just don’t want to have sex tonight. I don’t want to hold you or touch you or do anything provocative.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why. I’m not angry with you. Not yet…I want stay here and talk to you… there is so much that I want to talk to you about, but you will get the wrong idea. So, I’ve decided that I should go home and call you on the phone and talk.”
“Oh…and this has nothing to do with Chanice?”
“No. And since you are trying to be funny, I kinda reduced a lot of women out of my diet. I’m trying to reduce it down to one.” Mallory bowed his head.
“I’m not the one, am I?” Brielle asking, knowing that she knew the answer. Mallory blinked but he looked into her eyes and sighed. “That’s okay. I think our relationship is changing.” She grabbed his hand.
“I feel it too. I love to be with you, but I don’t…”
“Want to be with me.”
“Does that upset you?”
“Not really. I could feel the change. We’re okay until sex enters into the picture.”
“I still say that you deserve somebody better than me.” He caressed her face. “But, someone who can cook and sex you like crazy. You’re a bloody freak.”
She giggled, “You are going to find a guy for me?”
“You want me to?” Mallory joked with her, but she was serious. “There’s always Chad.”
“Your cousin? He’s cute. He reminds me a little of you.” Her eyes glazed over with the sheer mention of his name. Chad.
“I’m cuter and he looks like a nerd.” Mallory quickly defended his position in her heart, but quickly changed his tone. “But he adores you. And all Haulm men know how to cook.” He scooped her up and placed her on his lap. “Brielle, I want you to be happy, but I don’t think I can do it anymore. I think I was supposed to, but I can’t.” He brushed her hair back off her face.
“Well, stay and let’s talk like friends.”
“I’d love that.” A devilish grin flashed on his face. “Remember when I told you that I was sexist like my Grandpap to a point?” She nodded. “I do believe that women belong in the kitchen…to clean up.” He jumped up, pushing her off his lap.
“You son-of-a-bitch.” She shouted out, slapping him on his back.
“You don’t cook and I don’t clean. We do make a perfect couple.”
“Perfectly bad combination.” She snatched his plate off the table. “Does Chad clean up?”
“Probably. He will do anything to get to you.”
“Umm…well call him over here ‘cause I don’t clean either.”
“Now that’s sad.”