God In The Kitchen (12 page)

            I was glad that it was Sunday because I had not gotten much rest the day before. I had some thinking to do and I needed to catch up on laundry, grocery shopping and a few other things around the house.

            First, though, I really needed to clear my mind. I hit the closest church in order to sit in silence and try to straighten things out. I had been to most of the churches in town and though I had lived there for years, I had not yet chosen one to call my home.        

            Some of the churches made it a point to greet me, put me on their mailing list, and actively recruit me as a member while others simply let me blend in. That morning, I chose one in which I just blended in to the background so I could concentrate on my own issues without playing nice with fellow parishioners.

            It was a short drive to the traditional Lutheran church and I was glad I went the moment I pushed open the heavy wooden door that led to the long sanctuary. Behind the rows of dark pews hung a portrait of Jesus, His eyes tilted to the sky.

            I was drawn to the picture because it reminded me of Evan. It was hard for me to separate the two…Jesus and Evan, though I could not quite picture Jesus eating apples and carrots at my kitchen table. It wasn’t even the similar appearance, but rather the kindness that permeated from the eyes.

            At least the painters had nailed the eyes. It made me wonder how they knew. Did they have visions of Christ that told them what to paint? Did they paint from what the way they thought he looked based on the Bible stories? Did they know someone who knew someone who had lived during his era and had possibly met him?

            It was hard to know and it didn’t really matter. As the large organ at the front of the sanctuary began to ring throughout the room, I tore myself away from the picture of Christ and sat in the back row.

            I didn’t really hear much of the service because Abigail, Chloe and what I was going to do about the two women occupied my thoughts. Had Evan been hinting that one of the women was the right one for me? The one I would marry? Perhaps there was no “right one” and maybe I simply got to choose my path based on the fact that I told him I would only be happy if I was able to do so.

            By the time the silent prayer at the end of the service rolled around, I was certain I knew what I was going to do. The first call I was going to make when I got home was to Abigail. I was going to ask her out again. I would have to tell Chloe that I would love to have her in my life but that I had someone special I was seeing and Chloe and I could be no more than friends.

            I felt lighter as I listened to the last hymn and realized I had not participated in the service at all. I felt guilty for a moment, but then decided that I had gotten what I needed from the time in church…a decision about one of the most important aspects of my life. I had not had to ask anyone for help making it, either. I had done it on my own.

            I wanted to rush right home after slipping out of the back of the church so I could call Abigail in peace, but it was still relatively early and there were a few items on my grocery list that I simply had to get that day. Coffee, milk, toilet paper, those types of essentials.

            I decided I didn’t want to come across as too eager with Abigail by calling her first thing in the morning on the day I promised to call. But I was going to call her and it would be sooner rather than later. I would give her some time to get up and get going and then I would drop my phone call into her day.

            In the meantime, I was going to distract myself from the entire situation by getting what I needed from the store. There was a small grocery store between the church and my house. The type that had customers bring their own bags and place their own items into them after checking out. You had to pay a quarter for the cart too, but you got it back when you returned it. Somehow, cutting costs in these ways allowed the store to give customers lower prices on food. Or at least that’s what the store claimed.

            I didn’t care that milk was 50 cents less a gallon, really. The store was convenient and that made it my regular place to shop. I pushed my quarter into the cart and unhooked the chain, releasing the cart from the next one in line.

            I steered the cart towards the door, which automatically opened for me and I realized before I even entered the store that I had once again gotten a bum cart. Part of me believed that there was no such thing as a cart that steered well or easily. Either the wheel squeaked or it was impossible to push. This particular cart wanted to pull to the right and I had to push on the left side to prevent it from running off course.

            I walked down the first aisle, throwing a few bags of chips, breakfast bars and other bachelor-related items into the cart. When I got to the end of the aisle, I stopped at the milk fridge, but when I opened the fridge, I bumped the cart and it took off to the right.

            Before I could stop it, it had crashed into another cart. Okay, so it was more of a slight bump, but it sounded like a crash and I was embarrassed to stand up next to the fridge and catch sight of a mother and a little boy trying to unhook my cart from theirs.

            I hurried to their side, an apology on my lips when I caught sight of the little boy’s wispy blonde hair and blue eyes. “Chloe! Ian!” I said instead of apologizing for my wayward cart.

            “Jared!” Chloe said in return, the surprise and joy evident on her face.

            “Music man!” Ian said from his seat in the cart as he reached his arms toward me.

            Chloe smiled. “He wants to hug you.”

            I gave her a questioning look and she nodded and took a step back from the cart. I took a step forward and the little boy wrapped his arms around my chest and placed his little face right next to my heart. I put my arm around him and felt his frail little body cling to mine. I willed that some of the strength in my own heart would be transferred over to his as he hugged me.

            “You’re all he’s been talking about since the concert,” Chloe said as I pulled slightly away and noticed a sticky spot left behind on my shirt where Ian had been. “He liked the music, but he was more excited about the fact that you gave him the tickets to go.”

            “That’s very sweet,” I said, impressed that a child his age even understood that someone had done something thoughtful for him.

            “Are you free this afternoon?” Chloe asked, a look of hope in her eyes. “I need to get Ian home for lunch and he’ll need to rest too, but if you aren’t busy, maybe you could come by too? We could talk?”

            I remembered my decision from the church, mere minutes ago. I was going to go with Abigail, not Chloe. But perhaps going to her apartment wouldn’t be a bad idea anyways. I could tell her about Abigail and straighten out our relationship. She would know that we were friends and that was all. Perhaps I could introduce her and Abigail someday and they could become even better friends.

            I nodded. “That’d be nice,” I said, glancing over at my cart, which was still parked haphazardly in front of hers. I swung the gallon of milk in my hand into the cart and Chloe shook her head.

            “Do these carts ever work?”

            “From your mouth to God’s ears,” I said as a look on Evan’s face from the night before flashed before my eyes.

            “I guess you’ll need to go home first,” Chloe continued, glancing at the milk in my cart, “but we’re done here and heading to check out so come whenever you can.”

            “See you soon,” I said, giving my cart a hard yank.

            Ian waved his sticky fingers at me and I saw the remains of a sucker in one hand. That explained the spot on my shirt, but I didn’t care. That kid could put a sticky spot on every shirt I had and I wouldn’t have minded.

            “It’ll be fun!” Ian said as Chloe began to steer him away.

            “Mr. Jones is coming over but you need to rest before you can play,” I heard her tell Ian as I gave my cart a hard push on the left to get it back on track towards the coffee aisle.

            The last thing I wanted to do was hurt that woman, but I had a little time to work out what I was going to say before it had to be said. If I could find a way to say it with a little finesse, we could be friends. Good friends.

The drive home was filled with thoughts of Ian and how it felt to have his little arms around me. I had never really thought about whether or not I wanted children of my own. I guess I figured that once I found the right woman, everything would become clear.

I was a good uncle to my brother’s children and I knew if the time ever came that I would make a decent father as well. Ian was the first child that wasn’t family-related that I had felt a bond with and the bond I felt grew stronger every time I saw him.

I didn’t really understand it. After all, I had hardly heard him speak and we had not had very many interactions. But whatever it was, it was definitely there.

By the time I got home and got my sweaty milk into the fridge, I had nearly forgotten about my call to Abigail. Luckily, as I practiced what I would say to Chloe, I remembered I had another obligation to fulfill before visiting her that day.

I found Abigail’s number in my phone and paused before I hit the send button. It was presumptuous of me to program her number into my phone so soon after we had met, but it was more out of habit than anything else. I didn’t like to keep slips of paper lying around where they could easily be lost. All I had to do was hang on to that phone and I would have everything at my fingertips. My contacts, my calendar, and anything else I could ever possibly need, or so it seemed.

I hit send before I changed my mind and cleared my throat, steeling myself against what Abigail might have to say to me. After all, she quite possibly saw and misunderstood the situation between Chloe and me the night before.

“Hello?” Abigail answered in an annoyed voice that made me wonder if she recognized the phone number on her caller ID as mine.

“Abigail,” I said brightly, being cautious not to use my ‘radio voice’ on her. “It’s Jared.”

“Oh,” she said flatly, showing no joy or emotion of any kind.

“I, uh, heard you were at the concert last night. I wish I would have gotten to say hello.”

“Great concert,” she said. “You looked…busy.”

So she had seen me. And she most certainly had the wrong idea.

“About that,” I said, speeding up my words. “You probably saw me with a woman and I wanted to call and let you know that she’s not someone I’m dating.”

“You hold hands with every woman you meet?” Abigail asked, accusation ringing in her voice.

Ouch. I wasn’t going to get away with much when it came to being around this woman. And though I didn’t like having to explain myself, the other side of me liked that she challenged me and stood up for herself.

“Not
every
woman,” I said, chuckling nervously. “Look, I don’t have long now, but let me take you out to dinner this week and explain everything.”

There was a silence on the line as I crossed my fingers and hoped I had gotten enough information across to peak her interest in at least hearing more over dinner.

Abigail sighed. “Okay…but it better be good.”

“It is,” I reassured. “Trust me, it is.”

            We set a date for Tuesday evening and I told her we could email back and forth about an exact time and place. It would give me an excuse to be in contact with her between now and then and keep tabs on how she might be feeling about my coming explanation.

            “And Jared?” she said as we were about to hang up.