Carpe Diem (17 page)

“Well, I figured you might feel like that so I brought a few cookbooks also,” she tells me.

Abby pulls out several cookbooks from a canvas bag and we begin searching the pages for a recipe to destroy.

Neither one of us can call ourselves a chef in any way, so we have no idea what will enhance a recipe and what will kill one.

We decide to start with a chili recipe since that seemed fairly easy to do and not destroy too much. The recipe called for beef so we start by changing it out for ground turkey. We follow the rest of the recipe as directed. We then split it in two so I can try two separate modifications. The first one we add some liquid smoke flavoring and a can of beer. The second we add taco seasoning and cheddar cheese and crushed corn chips. We pour them into the two crock pots I had and set them to simmer.

“Okay, what next?” Abby asks.

“Well those have to simmer for a few hours, and those are the only crock pots I have.”

“How about a muffin or cupcake of some kind so we can use the oven,” She suggests

We start flipping through the cookbooks again and find a generic muffin recipe that should be easy to add random things to for flavor.

Abby pours the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, eggs, and salt into the mixer while I rummage through the groceries to find stuff to add.

I decide on banana and bacon for one batch, coconut and rum for another, and for the third we try a white chocolate pudding Abby found, marshmallows, and chocolate chips. It’s going to be interesting, to say the least.

After mixing all three batches, we spray the muffin pan and pour the mixtures in. It will take them about a half hour to cook fully.

At this point, I’m ready for wine and another recipe. I pop open a bottle of Moscato and I page through the cookbooks but nothing grabs me. I want this one to be really good. I then walk over to my recipe box and start flipping through the cards.

“So are we actually going to taste all this stuff?” Abby laughs.

“Sure, why not. We haven’t done anything too crazy.”

“Well, then you can try your little taco chili mix and the banana and bacon muffins.” Abby laughs.

“Oh come on those are not all that bad. There is taco pizza, why not taco chili? And people eat bananas on their French toast and bacon all the time.”

“No foods like that should always be separate, they shouldn’t even touch on the plate.”

I laugh at Abby’s food “phobia.” For as long as I have known her, she refuses to let her food touch each other on plates or mix in her mouth. She claims it is because each food has a flavor of its own and should be enjoyed on its own. When I point out that most of her food is mixed, for example, lasagna or chicken kiev, she agrees that it is not the same because those are entrees. Things like corn and mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs and hash browns, or bread and gravy because the bread gets soggy should never touch, they are served as separate items. Okay, I might actually agree with her on the last one.

When the timer goes off for the muffins, we pull them out and set them aside to cool. Looking over the mass amount of produce we have, I decide to get goofy and start making random things not following a recipe at all.

Three hours pass before we finally sit down to try some of our work. I dish up small amounts of everything we made. The chili, muffins, bacon-covered apples, veggie based salsa and the fruit based salsa that we added some spices to, the crushed cookie cake and, of course, the chicken noodle soup of my great-great-grandmother’s that I decided was due for an update.

Once the dishes are pleasantly displayed on the table, Abby and I pose for a few selfies with the food behind us and then sit down for our taste test. Staring at each item, I’m not sure where to start. Do I go for the sweet or the savory? I look to Abby to gauge her choice but find that she is texting.

“Abby!”

“What?”

“You’re not going to make me try all this alone are you? Who are you texting?”

“Well, I was trying to get Flynn to come over, but he says he can’t and is being an ass about it. What is his problem anyway?”

I look at Abby, unsure if I should let her in on what happened. It could be the reason he is staying away today or he could actually be working. He does not normally work weekends, but with all the snow he could be shorthanded with the plows.

I must have stared at Abby too long because she is giving me the look. The look that you get when your best friend that you normally confide everything to realizes that you are holding back on something.

“What?” she demands.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly, that’s the problem. What do you know?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Piper, if you know something.”

“I’m overthinking, that’s all.”

“Tell me.”

I know she is going to keep pestering me until I spill the beans and normally I wouldn’t hesitate.

“Okay fine, but it stays here. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Piper!”

“Fine. You know on Thanksgiving after everyone left?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Flynn stayed to hang out with me.”

“So.”

“So, we had a few bottles of wine, and…”

“Oh shit, you guys…. um—”

“God, no, but there was a moment in the kitchen. We were on the floor and, well, nothing happened.”

“Why were you on the floor and what didn’t happen?”

“We slipped on the whipped cream and he almost kissed me.”

“OH MY GOD, Piper that is… that is… Okay, I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s nothing, we didn’t kiss, but it’s been a little weird since.”

“Have you guys talked about it? Did you want him to kiss you?” she asks.

“No we haven’t talked about it and I’m sure it was just the wine that went to our heads.”

Abby looks at me with this goofy little smile and rather than sit and talk about it all night, I insist again that it was nothing and that I was over thinking it. I finally get her to taste test our creations and to our surprise, most of them turned out good. The taco chili was eatable but I would not choose to eat it again and the veggie salsa could be good with some work. My favorite was by far the muffins and the chicken noodle soup with homemade noodles.

A
fter Abby and I finished cleaning the kitchen and packing up all the food in Tupperware, I sort through the rest of the dry goods so we can donate most of it to the food shelf at the shelter. Once everything is packaged and ready for the shelter, I walk over to the hutch to retrieve my list and piece of the red mug.

My newfound tradition of burying the piece next to a tree does not seem likely for this adventure. I tend to kill houseplants within two to three years so I opt not to bury it in one of my potted plants; I look around and decide to put it in one of the champagne glasses on the hutch.

After putting the bag back in its place, I take a seat at the dining room table. Once again, I scan my list and find what I’m looking for and cross it off.

Create a secret family recipe

I look over the list again and find another I get to cross off.

Have a whipped cream fight

Before I have a chance to fold the paper and put it back, Abby grabs it, and the pen from me.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“I think it is time you also start adding to your list,” she says.

“I thought the point was to cross things off.” I joke

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t add some too.”

I watch as she scribbles a few items to the bottom, careful not to let me see what she is writing. Once she is done, she hands the list back.

I give her a dirty look and snatch the paper back from her and read the items she has added.

Go out on a date

Sing Karaoke at a bar

Do something stupid

Forgive

Find Happiness Again

“Abby, seriously?” I ask, giving her a dissatisfied look.

“What? Those are damn good items to have on there.”

“So who am I going on a date with and who do I need to forgive?” I ask sarcastically.

“I don’t know, I didn’t have anyone in mind, I’m only adding the first things that came to mind.”

“Pfft, right.”

“I do have one thing in mind that you could cross off rather than add,” she says shyly.

I think I’m going to regret asking but I do anyway.

“What’s that?”

After a short pause, she finally answers me.

“Well, you have to make a difference in someone’s life right?”

“And…”

“I was thinking that maybe it might be time to clean out Jack’s closet. I mean he has so many suits up there that could be donated, that could help someone get a job, or the coats could help someone stay warm.”

I’m shocked by her suggestion. It was not something I thought she would suggest. I can see Casey making the suggestion, but not from Abby. I would have expected something along the lines of going to a male strip club to help the poor strippers pay for college.

I had been thinking lately that it might be time. However, each time I open the closet door to take several items off the hangers, I end up putting them right back. Everything feels like they still belong there waiting for him as if he would walk through the door at any moment wanting one of his comfy tee shirts. I guess having them hanging there gives me some comfort. I know that nothing on that side of the closet will ever be used by Jack again, so why am I hoarding them? I hate to admit it, but Abby is right. It is time to let go of some of Jack’s things.

“I’m sorry, did I cross a line?” Abby asks softly when I don’t immediately respond.

“No, you didn’t. I was thinking about how you might be right. It might be time. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to admit it yet,” I reply.

“If you’re not ready, forget I said anything. It wasn’t my place to suggest it. I only thought, you know, sometimes you need to hear things from someone else.”

“I know, just give me a few minutes to think about it.”

“Piper, if you’re not ready, then you’re not ready. Don’t let me push you.”

“I know. Don’t worry you’re not suggesting anything I haven’t been thinking about. I just need a few minutes to let my heart catch up with this.”

Abby nods and watches me climb the staircase that will lead me to my bedroom. Deep down I know she is right and that I should consider donating Jack’s clothing. It’s just a hard thing to actually do when the time comes.

In the few support groups I went to, that seemed to be something a lot of people had a hard time with. Some people hired people to come in and take everything, others never got rid of anything, and their items still hang in the closet as they always did. Listening to the others, I knew I didn’t want to leave them there forever and that I did want to do it myself. My only issue was when is the right time.

The counselor would always respond to any question regarding timelines with “When it feels right” I get that everyone is different and that we all do things on our own timeline, but geez, can you give me something. I stopped going once I realized it was pretty much the same conversation each meeting.

By the time my thoughts settle, I am standing in front of the closet door. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I whip the door open and flip on the light. Jack’s clothes on the left, mine on the right.

As I walk into the walk-in closet I run my hands over the neatly hung suit coats, his suit shirts, then his tee shirts. He loved that I organized his shirts by style, but would always give me crap about it.

I laugh at the memory of him calling me crazy and telling me that if I’m not careful with my OCD that I will end up jumping over cracks in the sidewalk while singing “Mary Had A Little Lamb.” I would smack him and tell him that was mean and that OCD is a real problem for some people.

I take a deep breath and I can still smell him as if he were standing behind me. He had a few items in his hamper that I have yet to wash. I leave them there and figure when the scent is gone, I will finally get around to washing them. Although the scent had faded, it still finds its way to me.