chapter 2 - my apron

I am wearing only my boxers, the soft flannel ones with a large plaid design in blue and white and green. They feel a bit uncomfortably tight around the waist for some reason. I devour a large bite of dark chocolate which we somehow overlooked last night. I pop it in my mouth and savor it. Mmmm, you've taught me to love chocolate these last few months -- all kind of chocolates, dark and hot and salty, and we always stock up on our monthly shopping excursions to town. Other than monthly shopping trips, you haven't left our ridgetop home since coming here -- well, except for that disastrous trip to visit with your family.

I turn and look at myself in the mirror. I’m older than you but really pretty fit for a man in his early 40s. My shoulders are wide, I have thick muscular forearms, thighs and calves which are like hard balls of tendons and muscles from all the hard work of survival here in the woods. I’m standing naked except for the flannel boxers We don’t wear clothes much or at least not many clothes. We are way out in the woods in this cabin, at the end of a dusty overgrown lane, so we don't have neighbors looking in our windows.

I notice that my abs don't seem as well-defined as they used to. Probably from last night's gluttony in bed. I pat my midsection, and feel how hard my stomach is. "Just a little food baby," I say to myself, chuckling, recalling your gluttony from last night when you tipped the milkshake pitcher directly into your mouth, making a glug-glut-glut sound as you emptied it. And how, afterward, I kissed and licked the chocolatey drips from the corners of your lips.

I grab the pitcher and as many plates as I can, then head for the kitchen. I grab an apron hanging on the wall. Over my boxers I put on the cooking apron you got me. It's funny looking on me, and kind of a funny joke between us. I had a man's barbecue apron when we first met -- with a pig on it and the words "Feed the Chef." You now wear that apron when you cook, and you gave me this one, something you bought at the used-clothing store. It's a classic red and white gingham apron , with all kinds of frills around the edges -- like something a 1950s American housewife might wear. It looks hilarious on me, my wide shoulders and masculine build contrasting with the feminine frills. Still, I wear it proudly, it kind of gives expression to my feminine side, and it's funny. You laugh everytime I wear it.

I look in the fridge and see the cheesecake I made you special for today. I feel my mouth salivate at the sight. I use an old family recipe with sugar, butter, cream, cream cheese and sour cream. It has two different layers to it -- a kind of self-baked "crust" and a filling. It is so delicious looking. Before I know what I am doing, I have carved a large slice and have eaten it up.

Ooops! I meant this as a surprise for you today, and now I've eaten some of it. Oh well, I think, then mindlessly cut another smaller slice.

As I eat, I think back over the months since you came here, and how much you have improved my life. Before you showed up, I was pretty well a hermit way out in the forest, at the top of the ridge, living alone in my cabin. I've always tried to be self-sufficient, and I had always tried to grow or hunt for all my food, as well as use solar power and water from a well, and an outhouse with a compost toilet. It makes for a simple life -- and an inexpensive one.

And then you came into my paradise -- hiking in these hills last fall when snowstorm brought you to my door. We were snowed in for almost a month, and by the time you could leave, you didn't want to.

And I didn't want you to.

By that point, I had spoiled you so much. I wasn't used to company, and especially not such an intelligent and beautiful woman as you. We would talk late into the nights watching the blazing fire in the fireplace turn to red embers. We read poetry and essays aloud to each other through the bitter cold nights. We talked philosophy and art and music. I played guitar and we sang harmonious duets. We wrote prose and poetry and music, sometimes together and sometimes for each other.

And we ate. Well, you ate a lot more than I did

And ate and ate and ate.