evening rays streamed in her bedroom
window through the lace curtains sending delicate shadows dancing across their
faces.
When Jules awoke she heard the shower running in the
bathroom. It was nearly dark. She glanced at the clock; it was already 9 pm. She
got up, found her light, cotton bathrobe and ambled into the kitchen to warm up
the soup she had made earlier. She was starving. She turned on the light and
set the pot of soup on the stove. As she prepared the food and set out the
bowls for the soup she could hear Sam, now finished with his shower, moving
about in the bedroom. She turned the soup to low, stirring it a little. Vegetable
beef with barley soup, what would go with that? She leaned over the counter and
lifted a bottle out of the wine rack. A nice, sturdy Cab-Shiraz would do just
fine.
Sam walked out into the kitchen. She turned to smile at
him and burst out laughing. He was wearing the flowery, little terry cloth
bathrobe her mother had sent for Christmas; his frame busting out of it and the
sleeves much too short on his dark arms. “What are you doing?” She could barely
contain her giggles and he smiled back broadly, laughing with her.
“ I couldn't find anything to wear. My
clothes are covered with dust and grass. I found this in your closet; I hope
you don't mind. Don't you think it looks divine?” He twirled around on his
tip-toes and attempted a fake pirouette with his arms outstretched, palms
facing upwards. Jules doubled over laughing.
“ Oh, stop. Please stop; I'm dying here. You
look...” Jules was laughing so hard she couldn't finish the sentence. “Oh, you
look hysterically awkward.”
Sam seemed pleased that he could make her laugh. He
stepped over and pulled her to him, kissing her strongly on the mouth. They
stayed like this for a minute just taking each other in. He smelled of soap,
the stubble on his cheek was rough against her neck as he put his face down to
kiss her bare shoulder.
“ Are you hungry, Sam? I have some soup here
and a fairly decent bottle of wine. I'm going to toast the loaf of French bread
first.” She pulled away from his arms reluctantly and placed the foil-covered
bread in the oven on 275.
“ The bread should be ready in a few minutes.
Would you open this?” she asked handing him the wine bottle. She retrieved the
opener and two wine glasses. She set them both on the counter for him and
turned to stir the soup again, smiling to herself. Sam opened the bottle of
red, setting it and the glasses on the table. He turned to the sink and poured
himself a glass of water.
“ That soup smells amazing, what is it?”
“ Beef vegetable with barley. I hope it's
good. It will be better tomorrow, actually.”
“ Well, then I will have come back tomorrow
again.” he said. His eyes were liquid. Jules met his eyes and melted inside all
over again. The only thing that kept her from leaping on him at that moment was
the fact they were both quite hungry.
“ I put lots of black pepper in it; I hope
you like pepper. Ah, that bread should be warm now.”
They sat down at the table together and ate; Sam
sitting across from her at the small kitchen table. Neither of them said much.
Although this was their first meal together neither Jules nor Sam felt like
they needed to fill up the empty spaces with chatter. The moment was too
intimate and the soup was too good. They ate together as if this was a part of
their normal routine. “It's the strangest thing -this feels so familiar, so
comfortable.” thought Jules. Sam looked up from eating and noticed that Jules
was gazing at him. He smiled back at her.
“ This is really delicious, Jules. Thank
you.”
“ My pleasure. I'm glad you like it, Sam.” Jules
paused. “Does your mother enjoy cooking?”
Sam wiped his mouth with the napkin Jules had given
him. He kept his eyes on his plate, then he stole a pained glance at Jules.
“My mother was a fantastic cook but she died when I was
14.”
Sam played with his spoon.
window through the lace curtains sending delicate shadows dancing across their
faces.
When Jules awoke she heard the shower running in the
bathroom. It was nearly dark. She glanced at the clock; it was already 9 pm. She
got up, found her light, cotton bathrobe and ambled into the kitchen to warm up
the soup she had made earlier. She was starving. She turned on the light and
set the pot of soup on the stove. As she prepared the food and set out the
bowls for the soup she could hear Sam, now finished with his shower, moving
about in the bedroom. She turned the soup to low, stirring it a little. Vegetable
beef with barley soup, what would go with that? She leaned over the counter and
lifted a bottle out of the wine rack. A nice, sturdy Cab-Shiraz would do just
fine.
Sam walked out into the kitchen. She turned to smile at
him and burst out laughing. He was wearing the flowery, little terry cloth
bathrobe her mother had sent for Christmas; his frame busting out of it and the
sleeves much too short on his dark arms. “What are you doing?” She could barely
contain her giggles and he smiled back broadly, laughing with her.
“ I couldn't find anything to wear. My
clothes are covered with dust and grass. I found this in your closet; I hope
you don't mind. Don't you think it looks divine?” He twirled around on his
tip-toes and attempted a fake pirouette with his arms outstretched, palms
facing upwards. Jules doubled over laughing.
“ Oh, stop. Please stop; I'm dying here. You
look...” Jules was laughing so hard she couldn't finish the sentence. “Oh, you
look hysterically awkward.”
Sam seemed pleased that he could make her laugh. He
stepped over and pulled her to him, kissing her strongly on the mouth. They
stayed like this for a minute just taking each other in. He smelled of soap,
the stubble on his cheek was rough against her neck as he put his face down to
kiss her bare shoulder.
“ Are you hungry, Sam? I have some soup here
and a fairly decent bottle of wine. I'm going to toast the loaf of French bread
first.” She pulled away from his arms reluctantly and placed the foil-covered
bread in the oven on 275.
“ The bread should be ready in a few minutes.
Would you open this?” she asked handing him the wine bottle. She retrieved the
opener and two wine glasses. She set them both on the counter for him and
turned to stir the soup again, smiling to herself. Sam opened the bottle of
red, setting it and the glasses on the table. He turned to the sink and poured
himself a glass of water.
“ That soup smells amazing, what is it?”
“ Beef vegetable with barley. I hope it's
good. It will be better tomorrow, actually.”
“ Well, then I will have come back tomorrow
again.” he said. His eyes were liquid. Jules met his eyes and melted inside all
over again. The only thing that kept her from leaping on him at that moment was
the fact they were both quite hungry.
“ I put lots of black pepper in it; I hope
you like pepper. Ah, that bread should be warm now.”
They sat down at the table together and ate; Sam
sitting across from her at the small kitchen table. Neither of them said much.
Although this was their first meal together neither Jules nor Sam felt like
they needed to fill up the empty spaces with chatter. The moment was too
intimate and the soup was too good. They ate together as if this was a part of
their normal routine. “It's the strangest thing -this feels so familiar, so
comfortable.” thought Jules. Sam looked up from eating and noticed that Jules
was gazing at him. He smiled back at her.
“ This is really delicious, Jules. Thank
you.”
“ My pleasure. I'm glad you like it, Sam.” Jules
paused. “Does your mother enjoy cooking?”
Sam wiped his mouth with the napkin Jules had given
him. He kept his eyes on his plate, then he stole a pained glance at Jules.
“My mother was a fantastic cook but she died when I was
14.”
Sam played with his spoon.
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