more.”
* * *
Often in a new relationship there was that “Lost Weekend” period, the time when you first started having sex and couldn’t get enough of one another. Time seemed to disappear when you were rolling around in bed, and there was a lot of falling asleep on the job after too many late nights of not being able to say goodbye without hopping right back in the sack. Or at least that was what had happened to me with the only two semi-serious long-term relationships I’d had.
I wasn’t expecting that sort of a weekend with Ivan. In truth, I wasn’t sure what the hell to expect. I only knew I was in trouble because I’d found his awkward attempts at afterglow cuddling to be very sweet and endearing. Either he was genuinely lost in the woods or he had the best clueless-guy con in the world going on. So I approached the backyard at gardening time with a little trepidation.
What I got was a reprieve. Dinesh and Julia were down there too, trying to assemble a new barbecue grill. A few of us had the small, cheap kind of grill you tend to have when you live in apartments. This was the real thing, a big black monster of a barbecue. It had a lot of pieces.
“We’re planning to cook for anyone who wants it tonight,” Dinesh informed me cheerfully, “if we can just figure out how to put the damn thing together.”
Julia gave me a wave, then frowned back down at the parts strewn in front of them, wiping her forearm over her face. It was already heating up. Her dark auburn hair, skimmed back into a pony tail, was frizzing a little around her face where a few wisps had stolen free. I resented the fact that she looked no less beautiful with the frizz. “I still need to go to the grocery store.”
“I can get this,” her husband assured her. “Go. It’ll be done when you get back, babe.”
They kissed, a light brush of the lips as she bent down for a moment. “Text me if you think of anything else we need, okay?” I felt a pang of envy at the casual exchange. Ivan, tending his tomatoes, seemed oblivious to the whole thing. And, aside from a nod when I’d first stepped outside, oblivious to me as well.
Once Julia was gone, Dinesh growled and shook a socket wrench at the sky. “Why do I get myself into these things? Why, why?”
“I did wonder.” I took the wrench from him, before Dinesh could damage anything with it. He had his strengths, but it was generally conceded that being handy was not one of them. He could have rendered a beautiful three-dimensional model of the grill on his computer in no time, but the odds were slim he could assemble the real thing well enough for it to be useable for cooking. Neither of us was all that surprised when Ivan, brushing soil off his hands, reached out calmly for the tool and scooped up the instruction sheet.
Without saying a word he spent a few seconds perusing the instructions, a few more seconds scanning all the tools and parts, and then set to work. Within ten or fifteen minutes, the completed grill stood before us, ready for its debut that evening. After the initial glance, he’d set the instructions aside and never looked at them again.
“Country boy skill set,” he said by way of explanation, when he had tightened the final bolt and put the last tool back in the box Dinesh had brought out.
Dinesh nodded and shrugged philosophically. “You’ll get the first burger. Thanks, man.”
“You’re welcome,” Ivan said gravely, then smiled just a bit. “If you need any tomatoes, let me know. I have a few ripe ones.” He made a stiff gesture over his shoulder at his plants, each of which sported at least a couple of fat, gorgeous fruits that practically begged to be picked.
“Yeah, what are you doing with all of the tomatoes, anyway?” Dinesh asked. “Julia said you don’t eat them.”
“It’s an experiment. I’m gathering empirical data to demonstrate that my father’s method of growing tomatoes is less effective than it could be.”
I
* * *
Often in a new relationship there was that “Lost Weekend” period, the time when you first started having sex and couldn’t get enough of one another. Time seemed to disappear when you were rolling around in bed, and there was a lot of falling asleep on the job after too many late nights of not being able to say goodbye without hopping right back in the sack. Or at least that was what had happened to me with the only two semi-serious long-term relationships I’d had.
I wasn’t expecting that sort of a weekend with Ivan. In truth, I wasn’t sure what the hell to expect. I only knew I was in trouble because I’d found his awkward attempts at afterglow cuddling to be very sweet and endearing. Either he was genuinely lost in the woods or he had the best clueless-guy con in the world going on. So I approached the backyard at gardening time with a little trepidation.
What I got was a reprieve. Dinesh and Julia were down there too, trying to assemble a new barbecue grill. A few of us had the small, cheap kind of grill you tend to have when you live in apartments. This was the real thing, a big black monster of a barbecue. It had a lot of pieces.
“We’re planning to cook for anyone who wants it tonight,” Dinesh informed me cheerfully, “if we can just figure out how to put the damn thing together.”
Julia gave me a wave, then frowned back down at the parts strewn in front of them, wiping her forearm over her face. It was already heating up. Her dark auburn hair, skimmed back into a pony tail, was frizzing a little around her face where a few wisps had stolen free. I resented the fact that she looked no less beautiful with the frizz. “I still need to go to the grocery store.”
“I can get this,” her husband assured her. “Go. It’ll be done when you get back, babe.”
They kissed, a light brush of the lips as she bent down for a moment. “Text me if you think of anything else we need, okay?” I felt a pang of envy at the casual exchange. Ivan, tending his tomatoes, seemed oblivious to the whole thing. And, aside from a nod when I’d first stepped outside, oblivious to me as well.
Once Julia was gone, Dinesh growled and shook a socket wrench at the sky. “Why do I get myself into these things? Why, why?”
“I did wonder.” I took the wrench from him, before Dinesh could damage anything with it. He had his strengths, but it was generally conceded that being handy was not one of them. He could have rendered a beautiful three-dimensional model of the grill on his computer in no time, but the odds were slim he could assemble the real thing well enough for it to be useable for cooking. Neither of us was all that surprised when Ivan, brushing soil off his hands, reached out calmly for the tool and scooped up the instruction sheet.
Without saying a word he spent a few seconds perusing the instructions, a few more seconds scanning all the tools and parts, and then set to work. Within ten or fifteen minutes, the completed grill stood before us, ready for its debut that evening. After the initial glance, he’d set the instructions aside and never looked at them again.
“Country boy skill set,” he said by way of explanation, when he had tightened the final bolt and put the last tool back in the box Dinesh had brought out.
Dinesh nodded and shrugged philosophically. “You’ll get the first burger. Thanks, man.”
“You’re welcome,” Ivan said gravely, then smiled just a bit. “If you need any tomatoes, let me know. I have a few ripe ones.” He made a stiff gesture over his shoulder at his plants, each of which sported at least a couple of fat, gorgeous fruits that practically begged to be picked.
“Yeah, what are you doing with all of the tomatoes, anyway?” Dinesh asked. “Julia said you don’t eat them.”
“It’s an experiment. I’m gathering empirical data to demonstrate that my father’s method of growing tomatoes is less effective than it could be.”
I
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