Written by David Teague –
Raymond flipped through his Spice of Life cookbook and found a recipe for Herb-Crusted Cheese Truffles.
The invitation to Melissa’s party was the first he’d received since the divorce, and he wanted to show his office mates that a single man could bring something more than beer, chips and salsa.
He read the ingredients – cheddar cheese, cream cheese, onions, black pepper, Worcestershire sauce and mild chili pepper. Mix until light and fluffy, refrigerate; Roll into one-inch balls and roll in the chili pepper. There were variations, using different cheeses and spices.
“I think I’ll go with the cheddar and chili pepper, and the blue cheese and orange zest,” he said to himself. “Those ought to make a statement.”
He wondered what statement he hoped to make at the party with herb-crusted cheese truffles. That Raymond White knows his way around a kitchen? Would women be attracted to that?
He closed the cookbook and placed it back on the small bookshelf he’d purchased for $5 at Goodwill. The bookshelf held more cookbooks, a basket for the mail, and a small lamp with a bronzed lampshade that displayed a shadowy, colorful butterfly pattern on the wall when it was turned on. Above it was a piece of wall art with the George Bernard Shaw quote, “Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
The bookshelf still held cookbooks left over from his marriage. Some were wedding gifts that covered the basics of how to do anything. Others represented different diets his ex-wife had tried over the years. He’d gotten rid of way more than he’d kept, but still had a few dozen that contained favorite recipes or something he might try in the future. Raymond had purchased Spice of Life and a vegetarian cookbook. He suspected he could be a vegetarian if it wasn’t for barbeque. He so loved slow-roasted pulled pork and experimenting with sauces and rubs. He’d also kept a few special sections from magazines, like 50 Ways to Fix Tacos. So far, he’d tried about three of them.
Raymond stood up and glanced at the wall art. He’d been divorced for nine months after a 15 year marriage and he wondered what life he was creating for himself. He was 48 and balding, but he’d mostly managed to hold his gut in check because he was a pretty good cook and made mostly healthy food, and he enjoyed working out.
Other than that, though, he’d not thought of himself in the singular for almost 20 years. Who was he? Who had he intended to be prior to his marriage? Even after nine months as a single man, he only had ideas, not answers. Few of the ideas were fully formed. Most months he still spent more time looking through photo albums and reading old letters than he did exploring something new.
Maybe that would change tonight. Melissa was one of the only people at the office that Raymond knew well. She was a graphic artist and he was a photographer for one of the city’s oldest public relations and marketing firms and the two of them had quickly developed a good working rapport that complemented the copywriters and had earned the agency a number of awards. When Raymond’s wife left, he and Melissa had started meeting for breakfast some Sundays, but neither of them thought they were right for each other as lovers. Melissa said she’d invited several women to the party that might be just his type.
Raymond placed the truffles on a decorative plastic tray with a lid, and picked out a bottle of Estate Zinfandel from Rothschild Vineyards. The label read “There is a sexy, smoky essence to this vintage.” He smiled to himself and wondered if the evening would live up to the opportunities implied in this beautifully-labelled bottle.
Melissa’s brownstone was two blocks away from Raymond’s apartment and it was a clear, cool spring evening, so he decided a walk might help calm his nerves. He’d chosen one of the three shirts he’d purchased since the divorce, a dark, green one with a subtle print pattern that always seemed to attract at least one compliment when he wore it. He matched the shirt with his favorite pair of pleated dress khakis that seemed to accent how much thinner he was at the waistline than he was when he was married. He checked his face and hair in the mirror and decided the increasing thinness of his hairline was not too noticeable today. Then he shouldered his soft-side cooler and headed out with a sense of purpose and possibilities that somewhat balanced his fear.
The walk took Raymond through a section of the neighborhood that was gradually transitioning from small business offices to boutiques, bars and restaurants. There were several spaces with For Lease signs in the window. As he passed one of his favorite cafes, he glanced at the people sitting outdoors and smiled ruefully. Raymond kind of liked the transition, though he couldn’t help but notice that he was fast becoming an elder surrounded by youngsters. He wasn’t even sure what to call them. Generation Xers? No, they were too young for that. Millennials? Maybe.
Melissa answered the door on the first knock and kissed Raymond lightly on the cheek.
“I’m so glad you came!” she said. She reached up and whispered in his ear. “There’s three women here I really want you to meet. I’ll point them out to you, but one of them, Perri, is over at the food table now. Why don’t you go lay out your truffles and say hello. You can put them wherever you see a spot.”
Raymond recognized Perri from the accounting office. He sometimes had to take his expense report there if he missed the deadline. He watched her spoon some bean dip onto a plate and pick up some raw vegetables.
“Hello,” Raymond said awkwardly. “There’s lots of choices here. Did you bring something I should try?”
Perri smiled warmly.
“Nope, I came empty-handed,” she said apologetically. “I don’t do much in the kitchen. I know you – you’re the photographer who’s won all those awards, right? Did you bring something?”
Raymond nodded self-consciously and held out his tray of cheese truffles.
“Yeah, that’s me, but the awards were a team effort. I made these if you want to try one.”
Perri smiled and tried to hide the quick look of revulsion that came to her face.
“I’m sorry, I don’t eat animals or anything made from animals.”
Raymond felt the color rise quickly from his neck to his ears and he quickly placed the tray on the table.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said as he took a step back and thrust his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just rocked on the balls of his feet a little and glanced around the room. After a moment, he turned back to Perri, who also seemed to be looking for something, anything, to allow her to move away comfortably.
“You know, I could probably be a vegetarian,” he said. “I’ve got a good vegetarian cookbook and I try something new from it most every week. But I sure would miss barbeque. My uncle had a farm and they used to bring us fresh sausage a few times a year or invite the family over for these awesome cookouts. We’d have everything – pulled pork, ribs! The sauces were unbelievable.”
Raymond thought he’d seen a momentary look of excitement on Perri’s face when he mentioned vegetarian cooking, but it was quickly replaced by queasiness. She actually placed a hand on her stomach and Raymond thought he heard a slight retching sound.
“Well,” she said. “I guess I just don’t understand eating other living things.”
He could tell from her look that she was trying to be kind and resolute at the same time, but he wasn’t convinced. She found him disgusting, he was convinced of it. She turned away and waved sweetly.
“Enjoy the party. See you at work.”
As he watched her walk away, Raymond wondered what the hell she thought plants were if not living things. He looked around for Melissa, and saw that she was still greeting guests, so he poured himself a glass of wine, drank half of it in one gulp, filled it again, and looked for a quiet corner.
Shortly after midnight, Raymond turned the key to his front door. The cooler hung loosely from his hand. The wine had been a big hit, but he’d brought home about half of the cheese truffles. He placed them in the refrigerator and took out a beer. He’d never even heard of junk food vegans. How had he worked for two years with this group of people and not known there were so many different types of vegans, and several varieties were just down the hall? He was glad he hadn’t taken crackers, since Melissa was now gluten-free. Gerald had seemed to like the truffles, but by his third glass of wine he was insisting, hopefully, that Raymond must be gay.
“You know, I just figured, with the truffles and all,” he said with a woozy grin. “And you obviously take care of your body and know how to dress!”
Raymond shook his head at the magnitude of unexpected encounters and conversations he’d managed to experience in just a few hours. He walked over to his cookbook shelf, paused, and read the wall art again.
“Maybe I’m just not ready for prime time yet,” he sighed softly.
He pulled out the Spice of Life cookbook, sat down at the kitchen table, and began flipping through the pages. He lingered on the meatless section, then noticed it had gluten-free recipes, too, so he skimmed those and found two that he could try next week.
Raymond reached in his shirt pocket for the invitation to Melissa’s party, and noticed for the first time that she’d drawn a little butterfly beside her name. He placed the invitation in the cookbook to mark the first recipe he would try, then closed it and laid it on the table. He glanced toward the window over his kitchen sink, where, in a few hours, the deep dark would gradually give way to the colors of the sunrise.
David Teague lives and writes in Waynesville, NC. He can be reached at dvtwordworks@gmail.com
