“You are going to be late for class,” he said as she dunked her toast and sipped her tea at a leisurely pace.
“Don’t worry, I have plenty of time. It takes 25 minutes to reach school, 35 max if there is traffic,” she replied in her nonchalant way.
He just shrugged and went back to reading his book. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to point out that the traffic increased at this time of the day.
She had always been like this, relaxed and completely out of sync with time; he sometimes wondered how she got anything done at all.
Earlier in their marriage, he used to get exasperated. “I am so glad you are not a doctor. Your patients would have died waiting for you on the operating table.” She would just laugh and walk away.
In time, he had learnt to relax around her laid back attitude but there were times when he still bristled when she went about her business as if time was infinite. Most of the time, he just shrugged and let go. It was easier that way, less stressful.
“Ok, I am ready. How do I look?” she asked with that twinkle in her eyes he had grown to love so much.
“Good,” he said. He wasn’t the loquacious one in this union. She pecked him on his cheek, got into the car and sped off.
“I hope she reaches school in time,” he muttered under his breath as he headed back into the house.
He was glad she was finally doing something with her life. The ten years they had been married he had stood by her as she squandered away her life on trivial pursuits instead of doing something productive with her talent.
“At least she woke up before she turned 50,” he thought as he went back to the book he was reading. He had picked it up at a garage sale for a dollar. It was called Risotto, Polenta and Pasta, a Taste of Italy.
He decided he would try his hand at making risotto. He knew she didn’t like him cooking without her present.
“You make too much mess and you are not very efficient with the chopping and the pots and pans. Let me help you,” she would insist.
He hated being told how to cook or her interfering “help”. He had his own ideas and even if he was wrong, he wanted to find it out for himself.
Today was the perfect chance. She won’t be back for another four hours. He can drive down to the grocery store for the supplies; cook to his heart’s content and even clean up the kitchen decently before she came home.
He set about in his meticulous way writing down the ingredients he needed for the risotto. The list was a big point of contention between the two. He believed in them, she didn’t. Today, he gets to do things his own way.
