Nine #3
Watching Jackie deftly maneuvering the ball through the open court created by her teammate’s screen, I wondered how careful and sensitive her uncle’s hands were. Hands that were strong but fine fingered.
Finally home, a sirloin steak hissing in the pan, I thought about how fingers have to lift the chin of the CPR dummy and lean into the chest compressions. Pulling my phone out I swiped a text.
ME: I am really glad you asked me out for a drink. I had a nice time and wouldn’t mind seeing you again.
My finger lingered over the send key. We hadn’t talked at all since Friday.
I purposely hadn’t sent a confirmation text when Craig gave me his number.
Spending my nights with him, he was too close already.
But really this was nuts, and Mia was right.
I was making way more out of this than I needed to.
He was Jackie’s uncle and this whole thing was more trouble than it was worth.
We had games coming up and messing with my player’s heads was not a good idea.
Jackie couldn’t be comfortable with her teacher dating her uncle.
I deleted what I’d written without sending it.
Throwing some peppercorn into the simmering brown sauce I stirred it just below a boil.
The steak was starting to sizzle, sticking to the pan.
It wasn’t ready to turn over. Thick bubbles grew in the sauce and then popped as my stirring held the sauce at the right temperature to thicken without burning.
It was all about balance. Keeping the heat manageable until the right moment.
The steak, now browned, began to curl, releasing itself from the bottom of the pan.
With a pair of tongs, I turned the steak over to brown the other side.
The cut of meat was reassuringly spongy, a sign the middle was still moist. It was all about balancing the heat.
I could do that. Giving the sauce a slightly faster stir I turned down the stove a bit before turning my attention away. Then I drafted another text.
ME: You’re in. I just need your birthdate, full name, and address for registration.
All business. No promise of anything other than what he needed, help with a job. But he might not know who this was, and giving that kind of information out to a stranger was crazy. I added my name and sent it.
Rilee.
Despite the straight forward text, writing my name set my heart pounding. That was dumb. It’s my name. I write it all the time. It shouldn’t matter who I send my name to. Turning back to the sauce I edged the heat back up and stirred, waiting for the steak to finish.
My phone chimed.
CRAIG: Glad to hear from you. I had a good time.
For a moment I thought I was looking at the text I’d written but not sent.
But they weren’t my words. Craig had answered my businessy text with something personal.
Something warm. I pinched the neck of my shirt and gave it an airy shake.
The stove was making me sweat. I needed to pay attention otherwise I was going to burn something.
Taking a sip of the now reduced sauce, it left a tingly peppery feeling on my lips and tongue. It was done.
Removing the pan from the heat, I spooned out a quarter cup of the sauce into the pan with my steak to finish it.
Then with the tongs I rotated the steak twice and swirled it in the sauce to get a nice coating.
I turned off the stove and slid the pan from the burner, letting the steak sit with its heat, its juices mixed with the sauce, resting.
I found one of the white plates with the blue knots from my cupboard and tossed some greens with a light vinaigrette. Then I placed the sirloin steak on the plate and spooned more sauce over it. Finally sitting down, I picked up my phone again and reread Craig’s text.
CRAIG: Glad to hear from you. I had a good time.
Slicing a browned and caramelized corner off the steak I swiped it through the sauce and took a bite.
Very nice. He was glad to hear from me. He’d been waiting for me to contact him.
Well, this could only happen one way since I hadn’t given him my number, but he had it now.
Cutting another bite, I reached the steak’s center which was still soft and tender, the way a good steak should be.
Paired with the rich peppery sauce it hit all the marks, lasting flavor, an open texture that allowed the sauce to seep inside but not overwhelm the inherent taste of the beef.
He had a good time. Licking a touch of sauce from my lips I recalled the floral taste of the donut as he closed his eyes. I’d enjoyed the time too. Two hours of Craig was not enough. Picking up my phone again I quickly swiped out a response.
RILEE: Me too. Class is in two weeks, on Saturday. I’ll send you the address when I have it.
How was he going to read that? Maybe like I felt, a little confused, but willing to try and figure out if there was something worthwhile. Sending the message, I lay my phone face down and turned back to my dinner. I had tests to prepare but this steak was worth taking some time to enjoy.
And maybe if I had in real life what I’d dreamed about, I’d stop dreaming it and actually get some rest.