PART THREE j - Therapy

  After the shower, after the tub care, after the rubdown and massage. We didn't take a nap, but we id there sort of in and out of napping for a while. Eventually Light wanted to see about chili. I sat in the kitchen, and watched him go about this.

  "Okay. Light? We’re gonna make basic chili for lunch. We'll ter on make a big pot of real chili, for dinner and leftovers."

  "Why are we eating fake chili for lunch? Just make the real one, and we'll eat some now."

  "Well. I want you to understand the basic recipe. Then? I'll add stuff and deal with it, to make what I call real chili. Think of it as learning to make cupcakes, before you go baking a six story wedding cake."

  "All right."

  "Ever brown meat?"

  "Do you see me cook a lot? Boys didn't have me over to cook. At least not in the kitchen. Well, we did some cooking in the kitchen? But that's another story."

  "Ground meat. We're gonna heat it up. Its basically, just a loose hamburger. Now. Not too hot, and keep stirring. That's the secret to browning ground meat. See this mark on the stove top?"

  "Yeah…"

  "On this stove, that's around 250. Every stove top is different. Later on, I'll show you a trick to find that setting on any stove. Or? You use a skillet, with a temperature you can dial in. Or? You use this…"

  "A ser gun?"

  "Thermometer. Go on. Wait for the pan to heat up, and shoot it down in. Read the temperature."

  After a while, she did.

  "248, 249"

  "Close enough. Dump the pound of ground meat in, and stir now and then. All there is to it."

  "This is easy."

  I was smiling. She was thrilled.

  "Now. Open the packet of seasoning? And dump it in. Keep stirring. Save the empty packet."

  "Okay…"

  "See it going dry? Add a dash of water. The packet says a certain amount, but its not critical. Just make it enough to slop it around."

  "Smells like chili already."

  "Now read the packet. Where it says… instructions."

  "Brown the ground meat, and drain the grease."

  "We don't drain the grease. Grease is fvor. Go to the next step."

  "Add contents of packet of seasoning, and 1/2 cup water. Stir."

  "Next."

  "Uh… two 8 ounce cans of tomato sauce."

  "Know how to use a can opener? Here's the two cans."

  I watched her fiddling. He showed her how it worked.

  "Dump them in. Stir."

  "Now. Next step?"

  "Two cans of beans."

  "Here. Can of kidney beans, can of chili beans. Can opener works the same. Dump them in."

  "Stir?"

  "You can never stir too much. If you burn and stick a bunch on the bottom? You can ruin a dish."

  "Okay…"

  "We'll add some water…"

  "How much?"

  "Uh… that much. If you add too much? You just simmer it off. No biggie."

  "Looks like… chili."

  "You're done. Add a juice gss of water, put it on low. Let it simmer. Check and stir now and then. This? Is where you get to look like a pro. Oh, I have to check my chili… looks like you're doing something. You can taste it, to make it look like you're deciding something."

  "That's it?"

  "Done. You can eat it now, but adding water and simmering it off? I think it mixes the fvors or something."

  "I can now say, I can make chili?"

  "You can."

  "Can I taste it?"

  "Have fun."

  "Wow. Can't believe I made chili."

  "Think you could do it again?"

  "Yeah."

  "Tips. Always buy the cheap ground meat. More grease? More fvor. Also? I can't taste a difference in cheap packets, against the famous brands. Buy the cheap ones, at the best price. If you can get a box in bulk? I go that route. If you're like me, and you love chili and make it a lot? Invest in a big container of the seasoning. But, make sure you're beating the price of the cheap packets, or it defeats the purpose."

  "What's real chili going to be like?"

  "Well. Big pot. Four pounds of ground meat, so, four packets of chili. Now. Chili packets, come in three kinds. Mild, regur, and hot. I tend to use half hot, half regur on bigger pots. Naturally? Four times as many cans of sauce. Four times as many beans."

  "That's it?"

  "No. Big pot. I like to add things. When I started out making what you just made? Next time, I added a cheap can of carrots. Next time? I added can of carrots, can of mushrooms. I started adding too many cans? Fvor disappeared. I added another packet. I added another pound of meat and seasoning. Cut up potatoes. I add baby Brussels sprouts. Chopped up broccoli and spinach. Can of corn and green beans. If you like the vegetable? Add it. A big handful of a vegetable, is a good rule of thumb. Or, save an empty can… use that as a guide."

  "Ooh. I end up with… my own chili recipe?"

  "Yep. All yours. After enough pots of it, you like some more than others. Oh, I added too much of that. Next time don't. Basically? The more and weirder shit you list off talking about your chili, the more you sound like a chili pro."

  "Oh, this is great. People are going to eat my chili one day. Awesome…"

  "I'm going to make a big pot of rice, and put it to the side. I like a big handful of rice, and I put the chili over it. It… stretches the big pot even further."

  "Yeah, you and Hurry both do that with chili."

  "Right… I also add things. You can bomb just about anything you wanna get rid of? Into chili. Chicken? make sure all the bones are out, and… sausage? Hot sausage, sweet sausage, garlic sausage… slice it, throw it in. You'll see me add different kinds of beans. Pinto and kidney beans are the two most popur. I also like a big pack of those… 15 different beans. Its just what you made? With different shit thrown in, basically. Now, you know how the rice is a side dish you serve it on?"

  "Yeah…"

  "We have a big bag of potatoes. Hurry's going to make mashed potatoes. I like mashed potatoes and rice… and chili goes over it. I like macaroni and cheese, cheap box stuff. I add the chili over a bowl of that. Next day? We'll make baked potatoes, and cover them in chili."

  "What else did you start learning to make…"

  "Oh. Macaroni and cheese box? Was my first. I learned to add things to it. Make it go further. I like broccoli, green beans, baby Brussels sprouts, mushrooms, rice…"

  "Okay. And…"

  "Basic spaghetti. Honestly? You make a pot of chili. Eat it till its gone. Next make spaghetti, eat it till its gone. Make macaroni and cheese with stuff in it… eat that till its gone. Toss in taco night, chicken night, egg sandwiches night… you're ready to start over again. For a while, I had a sort of a ten day schedule. It made it look, as if I could cook a little. Oh. An easy one… ham and beans. Easier than chili."

  "Wow. I'm going to know how to cook…"

  "All right. Now, you're never going to measure up to… what I like to call, the secret recipe club. Little pro tip? Nobody else will, either. Their game? Is designed to make it look like… ooh… the secret, mystical knowledge? Has been handed down for generations…"

  "Oh. You mean, its bullshit?"

  "Eh. They probably have experience cooking from scratch? But… honestly, I've been more impressed by the cooking ability, of a lot of what I call the recipe club cookers. Than I was with the… secret recipe handed down. Can I make a crude analogy? I'll be mentioning dear old mom. You can tell me no, I won't take offense."

  She looked at me.

  "Are you making a point? Or, just seeing if I go weird on you."

  "Mostly making a point. But, wouldn't hurt to know the other one."

  "Go for it. I'm in an okay mood, all things considered."

  "Every mom thinks its her sacred duty to pass something down. That, she knows something, that the women in their family use to get men. I knew a girl who's single mom, had been a… pole dancer. She taught her daughter? To work a pole like no one's business. She said… if I'm ever on skid row? I don't have to put out if I don't want to. I can live in the nice part of town, buy a nice house, and buy a new car, and still have money to eat out. And, almost every guy in town just about, will secretly want me. I can make as much or more money than most of the men, with good jobs and college educations. Not saying I'll ever do it, but, its there if I ever think I need it."

  "And, she could work the pole?"

  "Yeah. I'm no expert, but… the boys went nuts. Go figure. I'm not saying you couldn't do it better. But for an amateur… being watched by amateurs…"

  "My mom had other ideas."

  "If things hadn't of gone haywire? If your mom was only half nuts… I'm not saying its right to view men through gold prospecting gsses. But… its not like plenty of girls on campus don't compete that way. And when they get out of college, or drop out? Who's husband makes the most per year, is definitely something the girls brag about. Before she went off the deep end, you were on pace that before you could buy beer? You'd have been able to gnce at any guy. Look him up, look him down. Pretty much guess how much he made a year, tell if he was lying about it. And? How to get the guy to go out with you. On that level? She was teaching you what she knew."

  "You don't agree with pole dancing. Or gold digging."

  "No. I don't. Doesn't mean that either one? Couldn't be used for practical purposes. Doesn't mean that either one? Couldn't technically get used, in a way that was… moral."

  "You, would agree with a pole dancer, ciming to be a good girl."

  "I think finding that one? Would be rarer than hen's teeth. Didn't say it would be impossible."

  "And… a gold digger could be… morally okay?"

  "Well, could be. Only if used right. Do you know how many girls believe some guy's lying story, about how much he makes? Get pregnant and get married to the guy who doesn't really have that great job he likes to brag about at the bar… boys have been taught to lie to get action."

  "Where would you and Wizzy end up. If you… got a big belly."

  "Oh, gee. First off. I'd lose my schorship. So, no more college. Wiz?"

  "I'd end up working, I guess whatever job I could get at the moment. Try to find a better job when it came around. I can afford to be here, barely. But, I live in a dirt hole to do it. I can't expect her to share that dirt hole, with a newborn. I can live in a car if I have to. Not something I could do with a kid. Honey?"

  "Me and Wiz, would end up on welfare, hun. My parents? Would really push me to come back home. My dad would run his mouth until I wanted to punch him in the mouth myself. Wizzy here? I don't even like to think, about how the conversations with my daddy would go. Wiz. What would the optimum strategy be?"

  "Oh. Let's see here. Optimum results? First two years would be rough. But…"

  Me and Light both urged him to go for it.

  "Here goes. I trust Hurry? That she really loves me. And… there's not some… successful, handsome farm boy she hasn't been telling me about all this time in Hurryville. I bet if she goes home to the farm, out of college? I bet a couple of those come out of the woodwork, quick. And? I bet mom and dad are pushing the issue. You should date that one. Did you see his dad's farm? He's the only son, honey."

  "You'd… send me back home?"

  "Two years. I'd have to trust you. To hold the line. That farm? Your dad would have natural instincts to love and protect his grand kid. Optimum outcome for the newborn. You? Better than the projects. I'd take care of the women and children first. Your mom, would say I told you so… then take you out to shop for cute baby socks. She'd make your dad y off, when he got too out of hand. Your dad? Would have, I'm guessing, three fingers of jack every night after dinner, rather than his usual two. My ears would be burning, at how much shit he talked."

  "Admirable. What would you do."

  "Simple as. Live in a car, find a pce to park it. Finish my undergrad degree. I'm a jock, just not a jock on the field. I'm a jock in the computer and math department. I'm kinda like the starting quarterback, sort of, in the mathematics b, tutoring. Pretty sure, I just have to finish my degree, just not in the luxury style, that I have recently grown accustomed to. Groundhogs live in abandoned cars, when they can't find a dirt hole. Once I make grad school…"

  "Hmm. You teach computer science csses? You'd be low level staff."

  "Would I not get housing? And a paycheck I could afford groceries?"

  "You would."

  "Would… my wife, being married to a staff member… not be allowed to take csses? Like the son of the janitor gets a free education here?"

  "Yeah."

  "There you go. In two years? You'd be back here. You could finish your degree. No more soccer, but you'd have a new hobby. By the time I was starting my doctoral candidacy? You'd be in grad school. Teaching introductory psych csses. Our income would double."

  "Honey? Not bad. Question. How do you break me out of farm prison? Not like my daddy isn't going to be standing between me and… escape. Probably some big farmhand standing around, trying to impress daddy and get a few extra hours every week for it. Farmhands that get to eat dinner in the big house? Talk shit to the other farmhands. Simple farm politics."

  "Not a fun topic. Want an accurate assessment of it?"

  "Oh. This ought to be fun. Dying to hear it."

  "Well. I'm done with undergrad. I got my housing. My first paycheck? I need bus fare for one. From Universityville, to Hurryville. I'm assuming, my email proposal, you said yes. Come get me."

  "Oh. Guaranteed."

  "I need bus fare for one, from Universityville, to Hurryville. I will also have bus fare for three. From Hurryville, to Universityville. Anything, and anyone. Tries to talk me out of my mission, will be ignored. Politely. Anyone, and I emphasize the anyone part… that tries to physically intervene? Between me and completing my mission. Well. Wouldn't be the first person that thought they were going to prevent an MP from taking somebody, to somewhere he thought they needed to be. The, uh, boys had a saying."

  "How's that."

  "Guys? All fun aside. See that person, right there beside you? Going with me. Right now. They can walk, or I'll drag them. You can either be standing here watching? Or you can be ying there watching. Choose. I'm going to count to one."

  "Daddy has a farmhand."

  "Daddy has a farmhand, before it begins. The farmhand will not st more than about a second, maybe a second and a half. I'm not fighting to win points, and pass a css. He gets punched in the throat, he gets his knee kicked out from under him. He gets his head split like a coconut off my jumping knee. Your daddy's eyes will bug out, I've done it before. He'll still be wondering what in the hell happened by the time I get my hands on him."

  "Police? Mom calls the cops."

  "Daddy will have spent two years, talking shit to anyone unfortunate enough to have been within arm's reach of him. Why, that no good college bum shows up here? Why, I'll show him a thing or two. I'm not called Big Hurry for nothing, you know. I'll show you how to handle that kind."

  "That, would probably be more accurate of a statement, than you realize."

  "You? You're over 18. No one, not even your father, and certainly not some farmhand? Is legally entitled to keep you prisoner. Now put a hand on me, keeping me from my wife who said yes. Or my own child. Now, if small town cops wanna try some kind of… shenanigans? I'll have a talk with the chief. Not all him talking and me listening. If they try to pull some, night in jail, this is our town, bullshit? Have fun. I'm coming back, with a wyer that doesn't give a shit and doesn't cost me a dime. I'm going to buy my wife a brand new farm with how much I make off of that. Try me. I know special words the cops wouldn't think… college boy? Knows."

  "Really."

  "Look. You think MP's don't have to deal with… local cops and the same shit? Any half bright chief, will realize in about ten seconds? This ain't worth it. The more the locals try to up the ante? The more they lose in the end."

  "The chief and the magistrate? Drink beer at the same bar."

  "Oh. That's the whole… who you blow game? Fine. Let's py that game. Do you have any idea, how many local cops. State cops. Couple detectives and investigators, and at least one FBI agent I'm buddies with? Think. What do MP's do for a living, when they get out of the service? They become cops. They go to the head of the css, being cops. And every single one of them? Their mascot, the little brother, their special friend… is in trouble, and swears he didn't do anything. My first phone call might not be to a wyer."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah. Dare me. I guarantee, one phone call, describing what happened? Chief starts getting phone calls, from all the boys. Other police chiefs and lieutenants start calling. State police. Even one FBI agent calling. I bet he won't be there the next morning. But that weekend? Who exactly is in charge here. Let's have a talk. Now, if the chief is stupid enough, to try to continue down that road, and up the ante? All bad things happen. So no. My crystal ball says? In the morning, I'll get a little talk with the chief. His little talk he pnned, will go awry from how he pnned on the talk going. And unless he's really retarded? The chief himself, will buy me and you dinner. And probably carry your luggage himself, and pay our bus fare. All smiles, sorry there was such a miscommunication. The boys? Oh, they had you confused with some other guy, sorry about that. I will probably be nice? And let the chief off, with a warning."

  "You're not kidding, are you."

  "Not one bit."

  I looked at Lightning. She looked, a little glum.

  "I'm sorry honey. I didn't mean to sit here and gloat. How wonderful I think my boyfriend is. Look how much he loves me. We were talking about recipes."

  "We were. I just… I don't have anything like that. And I'm not sure knowing how to make easy chili recipe? Gets a girl that anymore."

  He winked at me.

  "Light? Did I not stand at a party, put my arm around both of you girls? Did I not say… pointing at you… I think she's amazing. This? Is my girl now. You had your chance. You? Are very special. Just like Hurry. You, are entitled to all the same… rights and privileges of being my girlfriend, that she's entitled to."

  "Really?"

  "Sure."

  He winked at me, like three times in a row.

  "Truth be known? You, are a slightly better deal."

  "How."

  "You ain't got some big farm daddy to deal with. You're easier to go pick up. I'd probably go pick you up first, then head out to Hurryville. Take you along? As my backup."

  Her mood brightened at the joke.

  "Yeah! I'll kick the farmhand, so you get a fair deal with big daddy!"

  He smiled.

  "See honey? She's all good karma. Just like you."

  "Well, meanwhile. Back at the ranch, Light…"

  "Yeah…"

  Her mood brightened. She suddenly felt an injection of feeling good. That little bit of warmth and goodness, that comes from feeling like you have someone in your corner. That they love you and care about you. The person thinks you're special. It's an essential ingredient to any retionship, particurly between a girl and a boy. I'm gd she feels it.

  "Now. Moms, teach daughters. Whatever they think is in the daughter's best interests. How to find boys, how to keep boys, how to choose among those boys, and pick one out. There are, as we have seen… different strategies, to that end."

  "What's yours? What were you taught. I have to be something, and you aren't half bad, sis."

  "Well. The secret recipe, secret knowledge of cooking. Its part true, its part… ad campaign."

  "And what's true is…"

  "Um. The secret recipe. My grandma, was taught by her grandma… how to make the best apple pie in the world. Crust? From scratch. Secret ingredient, too. No one gets that. I was taught how to pick the perfect apples, too. Boys like to fuck, its true. Boys also? Like to eat. Back in the old days, how good a girl had a reputation for cooking? Carried a lot of weight concerning which girl a guy bragged he was dating. Hey. My girl's prettier. Yeah? Well your girl burns water. Mine's almost as pretty as yours? And boy, can she cook. You? Are going to starve. Me? Everyone loves when she cooks."

  "Cooking good? Moves you… from a 6 to a 7…"

  "Oh. A good personality, a great way around the kitchen… no, more than one girl has wooed the most eligible bachelor in town before, with that. Now. When more than one girl in town can cook? Well… out comes the bragging. I do desserts too. I do cakes and cookies. Me? I have the secret recipe, with the secret ingredients…"

  "Hmm. Me and Right? She had us… making cheeseburgers, for the boys. We, got to pretend we could cook. Outside the bedroom, that is. Fetching beers was another… thing. The boys liked that. Looking back on it? I should of sucked less cock, and made more burgers. I was doing better, overcooking the burgers, to be honest. Any moron can fetch a beer. One cop on one of our movies that Wiz watches? Had a dog, that can do that much…"