around her ankles, boots stubbornly tied, and ribs throbbing. She couldn’t suppress her tears.
Gabe was through the door within moments. “Oh, God, Elizabeth, what happened? Are you all right?” He knelt beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“I just…I just lost my balance.” She swiped at her tears. “And I can’t get the boots off. Or this bra thing.”
He kissed her temple. “Please don’t cry. Let me help you.” He undid the bootlaces and pulled off her shoes before removing the jeans from her ankles.
“Let’s get you up.” He lifted her gently from the floor and sat her on the bed. Moments later, her bra was off and he helped her into the soft pajamas. “Come have some soup and then you need to rest.”
He led her to the table and pulled out a chair. A strange beeping sound came from the kitchen. He smiled. “The soup’s ready. Sit tight for a sec.”
When he came back, he had two steaming bowls of soup. “This is my mom’s minestrone. I always come back from their house with containers of leftovers. And while she will resort to dried pasta in a pinch, she says there is no excuse for canned soup.”
Elsie didn’t understand a word he had said.
“Let me get spoons. I’ll be right back.”
He made several trips to bring spoons, bread, butter, and glasses filled with cold water. “I’d crack open a bottle of wine, but alcohol doesn’t mix well with your pain medicine.”
“This is fine.”
“Dig in.” He ate a big spoonful of soup.
Elsie looked at the soup for a moment. The broth was red . “What did you call this?”
“Minestrone.”
“Why is it red?”
“It has tomatoes in it.”
“What’s a tomato?
“It’s a red vegetable…or, I guess, technically a fruit. Do you recognize anything in the soup?”
“Beans and carrots. And this looks a little like the noodles I ate yesterday.”
“That’s right. Go ahead and try it.”
She cautiously lifted her spoon to her mouth. The broth was tangy, flavorful, and unlike anything she had ever tasted. She smiled. “It is very good. I think I like tomatoes.”
He laughed. “You certainly used to. Wait until the summer when we can get fresh New Jersey tomatoes. They’re the best.”
She wouldn’t be here in the summer. She wouldn’t be here for more than a few weeks. After all the pain, frustration, and overwhelming sensations she had experienced in the twenty-first century, that thought should’ve made her happy, but a pang of anticipated loss twisted in her gut instead.
When they finished eating, she helped him carry the dishes into the kitchen. There was a sink in the kitchen like the one in the hospital bathroom, only bigger. As he washed the dishes, she glanced around. There were machines that she didn’t recognize. One very large one—the size of a small wardrobe—hummed quietly. As she looked around, she realized there was no fire and no source of heat of any kind that she recognized. And for that matter, there was no pot of hot soup.
“Where did the soup come from?”
“I told you, my mother made it. Every time I visit, she sends me back to New York with homemade food.”
“But how…I don’t understand. There isn’t a pot anywhere.” She wanted to say there was no fire either, but in her short time here, she had seen so many amazing things that she figured something must have replaced fire for cooking.
Gabe smiled. “You don’t remember what a microwave is.” He opened a door and a light came on inside. “This is a microwave. It heats food really fast.” He closed the door and opened one of the doors in the big humming machine. Again, a light came on, revealing a variety of small containers. He handed her one.
“It’s frozen.” Elsie tried to cover her amazement, but it wasn’t easy.
“Yup. This is a freezer. Mom puts soup and stuff in these plastic containers, and I freeze them so they will keep until I’m ready to use them. Then I just pull one out and heat it up.”
She
Gabe was through the door within moments. “Oh, God, Elizabeth, what happened? Are you all right?” He knelt beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“I just…I just lost my balance.” She swiped at her tears. “And I can’t get the boots off. Or this bra thing.”
He kissed her temple. “Please don’t cry. Let me help you.” He undid the bootlaces and pulled off her shoes before removing the jeans from her ankles.
“Let’s get you up.” He lifted her gently from the floor and sat her on the bed. Moments later, her bra was off and he helped her into the soft pajamas. “Come have some soup and then you need to rest.”
He led her to the table and pulled out a chair. A strange beeping sound came from the kitchen. He smiled. “The soup’s ready. Sit tight for a sec.”
When he came back, he had two steaming bowls of soup. “This is my mom’s minestrone. I always come back from their house with containers of leftovers. And while she will resort to dried pasta in a pinch, she says there is no excuse for canned soup.”
Elsie didn’t understand a word he had said.
“Let me get spoons. I’ll be right back.”
He made several trips to bring spoons, bread, butter, and glasses filled with cold water. “I’d crack open a bottle of wine, but alcohol doesn’t mix well with your pain medicine.”
“This is fine.”
“Dig in.” He ate a big spoonful of soup.
Elsie looked at the soup for a moment. The broth was red . “What did you call this?”
“Minestrone.”
“Why is it red?”
“It has tomatoes in it.”
“What’s a tomato?
“It’s a red vegetable…or, I guess, technically a fruit. Do you recognize anything in the soup?”
“Beans and carrots. And this looks a little like the noodles I ate yesterday.”
“That’s right. Go ahead and try it.”
She cautiously lifted her spoon to her mouth. The broth was tangy, flavorful, and unlike anything she had ever tasted. She smiled. “It is very good. I think I like tomatoes.”
He laughed. “You certainly used to. Wait until the summer when we can get fresh New Jersey tomatoes. They’re the best.”
She wouldn’t be here in the summer. She wouldn’t be here for more than a few weeks. After all the pain, frustration, and overwhelming sensations she had experienced in the twenty-first century, that thought should’ve made her happy, but a pang of anticipated loss twisted in her gut instead.
When they finished eating, she helped him carry the dishes into the kitchen. There was a sink in the kitchen like the one in the hospital bathroom, only bigger. As he washed the dishes, she glanced around. There were machines that she didn’t recognize. One very large one—the size of a small wardrobe—hummed quietly. As she looked around, she realized there was no fire and no source of heat of any kind that she recognized. And for that matter, there was no pot of hot soup.
“Where did the soup come from?”
“I told you, my mother made it. Every time I visit, she sends me back to New York with homemade food.”
“But how…I don’t understand. There isn’t a pot anywhere.” She wanted to say there was no fire either, but in her short time here, she had seen so many amazing things that she figured something must have replaced fire for cooking.
Gabe smiled. “You don’t remember what a microwave is.” He opened a door and a light came on inside. “This is a microwave. It heats food really fast.” He closed the door and opened one of the doors in the big humming machine. Again, a light came on, revealing a variety of small containers. He handed her one.
“It’s frozen.” Elsie tried to cover her amazement, but it wasn’t easy.
“Yup. This is a freezer. Mom puts soup and stuff in these plastic containers, and I freeze them so they will keep until I’m ready to use them. Then I just pull one out and heat it up.”
She
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