“What do you want to do about it? Can I help?”
I drag out a chair from under the dining room table, and sit. Dylan brings me a glass of water. “I don’t know what to do. I suppose, I’ll have to wait until she’s ready to talk to me. But I don’t want to wait too long, and end up losing her to him forever.”
“It’s a tricky situation. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so I can’t comment from experience. Well, I do, Mom’s new family. But they want nothing to do with me, and I want nothing to do with them. I don’t really consider them family. In all honesty, I don’t even know for sure if I have just two half-brothers now, or more.” I remember him telling me about his maybe half-siblings.
“Do you hear from your mom?”
“Sometimes she’ll send me a Christmas card, and a few times she’s sent me a birthday card, but usually in the wrong month.”
Ouch, I wince. “How can she forget when your birthday is? She gave birth to you.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I gave up blaming myself for her lack of interest in me or my life.”
“Is there a reason? Has she ever tried to explain it to you?”
“You know, I used to beat myself up over her leaving. If I was smarter, if I was a better kid, if I listened to what she said, but then, after a lot of therapy, I discovered something.”
“Yeah, what?”
“It really had nothing to do with me. All of her choices are her choices and not mine. I’m not going to waste another moment crying over what could’ve been, when I have the best Dad in the world.”
“See, now we have a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid, I have the best Dad in the world.”
“Them’s fighting words, lady.” He lifts the lid to a different saucepan, and tastes whatever’s in it. “Hmm, yum. Yeah, dinner is ready.”
“Great, what can I do to help?”
“Nothing, but make yourself at home.” He brings over two deep bowls, and cutlery. Then starts bringing the food over. “I know it looks like I’ve made a lot, but I make up containers for my Dad too. And I take some to work. So really, it’s not that much. Speaking of which, you’ve probably noticed Dad’s not here. He’s not feeling great, so he decided to stay at home to rest.”
He brings over a large pot, a bowl of rice, and something that resembles bread, but it’s flat. “Wow. Did you seriously make all of this?”
“Except the naan bread, I bought that. But yes, I made the curry from scratch. And obviously, I cooked the rice.”
“The rice is yellow.”
“It’s how I made it. Mustard seeds, turmeric, cardamom pods and a few other things.”
I nod my head, impressed with his skills. “You sure you didn’t buy it?” I tease.
“You know, I am a grown-ass man. I should hope I know how to cook. I actually took some cooking lessons when I was in high school. Food is important to me and to Dad so I wanted to make sure I was able to do it for myself. Eating out is expensive, and I’d rather spend my money on more important things.”
“I like that.” I look down at all the food on the table. “Since this isn’t something I usually have, can you put my first bowl together and show me how much of each to add.”
“Your first bowl. Nice. I already know you’re going to like it.”
“I’m game to try anything.”
“Good to know. Nothing worse than a picky eater.” I hand him my bowl, and he heaps in some rice, and then the potent, aromatic dark curry. He rips a piece of naan bread in half, and places half on the plate to the side of the bowl. “To soak everything up. Although, I like to eat it like this.” He picks his naan bread up, piles on the curry, then adds a little bit of rice. Folding the naan bread, he shoves it in his mouth.
I copy him, and when I taste the curry, there’s a flavor explosion in my mouth. It’s spicy, really spicy, but the heat doesn’t overpower all the different spices. “Oh my God,” I say through a mouth full of food. “The chicken just melts in my mouth. Wow.” Before I know it, I’m having a second, third, and fourth mouthful.
“It’s good, huh?” Dylan asks with a huge smile.
“So good.”
I finish my first bowl, and my stomach screams for more. Settle down, I hear ya. I dish up more, not as much rice this time. I use the naan to soak up the curry. “See, I can cook,” he says proudly.
“You can cook for me any time you want.”
“Challenge accepted.”
As my eating slows down, a thought crosses my mind. One that I think needs to be asked. “I have a question, and it might sound judgmental, but it’s not.”
“What is it?”
“You’re twenty-seven soon, right?” he nods his head. “Why aren’t you engaged, or married?”
“Um.” He swallows his food, and places his fork down. Picking up his water, he has a gulp. “I was with someone for about three years. She turned out not to be the person I thought she was.” I can tell this is difficult for him.
“How?”
“She cheated on me. She was cheating on me with her brother’s best friend. Cliché, right?” I don’t reply, I don’t know what to say. “She was cheating on me for nearly the full three years. She also maxed out one of my credit cards. And she was in a car accident with my car, which incidentally, she caused because she was drunk driving.”
“Is this the same one you caught having sex in your car?” He nods. “Why’d you stay with her?”
“Blinded by love. Or so I thought. But as it turns out, I had this overwhelming need to fix her, so she wouldn’t abandon me.”
“How long ago did all this happen?”
“I broke up with her three years ago. And since her, I decided to casually date.” I can read between the lines to decipher what he means. “Until now.”
“You’re not casually dating anymore?”
“I don’t consider what we have as casually dating. I don’t cook for my casual dates. And I’m not a fan of bringing them here.”
A shudder rolls up my back. He’s making himself sound like a man-whore. “Right,” I say as I sit back in my chair, done with the food, and nearly done with tonight.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you want me to be truthful?”
“It’s the whole casual date thing, right?”
“Yeah, I’m struggling with it. You’ve made yourself sound like casual dates is a really common thing. And you’re some kind of male ho. And I’m not…um…comfortable with that.”
“Before my cheating ex-girlfriend, I was with one other woman in a semi-long-term relationship. Since my cheating ex, I’ve been with three other women. When I say ‘casual dating,’ I don’t mean an abundant amount of sexual relationships. I mean casual relationships that for whatever reason, haven’t worked out.”
Five women at the age of twenty-six is not as many as I thought. “Have you tried to make them work?”
“One, straight up no. The only thing compatible about us was the fact we were happy to keep it very casual. With one of the others I tried, but it didn’t feel right. We both knew by our second date that neither of us were very excited about seeing the other. And the third, well, it started casual, and she was seeing someone else at the same time. They ended up getting married. I could see a future with her, but it didn’t work out.”