Market Day and Eavesdropping
Grocery shopping is a necessary evil. Necessary because one must eat and evil because the options are so extensive it can drive one to madness.
Today was Market day. That is, it was a day off of work during which Aleena did little but meander about at home before she went to the gym and then grudgingly went to spend half of her income on restocking her many cabinets and large refrigerator.
No, she did not have greedy little children mouths to appease or a husband's bottomless stomach to fill. She did, however, have friends whom she often cooked for, a little dog belly to feed and of course, her own palate to please.
After nearly half an hour of trudging down isles and debating over which kind of rice to buy –basmati or brown, of which she chose basmati—Aleena tapped in best friend Meg's number into her iPhone and waited impatiently for her friend's customary "Yes, Al, you can have my children."
There was a story to that greeting, involving an impressive amount of alcohol, a heated debate about childbirth and a conclusive decision that Aleena would never get married, but she could certainly be Meg's "baby mama."
"Shopping is a b-i-t-c-h." She spelled out as she maneuvered her cart around a lost looking little boy eating a chocolate bar that he must likely lifted without his mother knowing.
"Act like you don't like it," Meg responded, sounding as though she were speaking around a cotton ball, "making food is your favoritest thing ever. Hell, you do it for a living."
"I like eating food, Meg. Making it just happens to be part of the package. Besides, Bourdieu has effectively and brutally murdered my love for cooking." She grumbled the latter before continuing in a slightly forced sounding chipper tone, "Wouldn't it be cool if everything could be made in an Easy-Bake oven? Seriously, think about it—"
"Stop that," Meg interrupted, this time sounding like she was licking something off her fingers, "Easy-Bake went out of business years ago. Dreaming about unrealistic things will get you nowhere, as my dear daddy would say. And I know Bourdieu is a pain in everyone's ass, but without him, you probably wouldn't be as successful as you are today. Also, I don't understand where all of this serious hate towards him is coming from. Are you best friends, or am I wrong?"
Aleena decided to drop the Bourdieu topic, grudgingly agreeing with her friend about the success thing, but ignoring her questioning. "Don't sound so bitter when talking about your dad, he's fantastic." She paused in front of a particularly tempting bag of candied walnuts, "Are you eating a powdered donut?"
Meg was silent for a moment, "I don't like that accusing tone of voice. I was hungry!" a whine slipped into her words, "I haven't had time for a proper meal today."
"Come over tonight, I'll cook. 8'clock good?"
"'Bout time you asked. Make something good for once! Bye!"
"You ungrateful creature!" Aleena screeched into the phone before the line went dead. "Jeeze, sometimes I wish you could shop for better best friends."
Someone chuckled behind her. "I think they sell those on isle nine."
Aleena turned around to face the laugher, who turned out to be an attractive brown-haired, green eyed man who filled out a pair of straight leg jeans and a grey Muppets t-shirt nicely.
"Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?" Eyes narrowed, she tried to hide her slight embarrassment at this yummy stranger overhearing her immature conversation with annoyance.
"Actually…yes. Not in the beginning though," He amended, "You were going really slowly and I couldn't get around you so I was forced to listen. Then I heard the name Bourdieu and actually started listening for real. If we are talking about the same pain in the ass chef, then I happen to know him. Do you work together?"
He had a nice voice, deep with a hint of a drawl. It appealed to her senses. Being a chef, she noticed the little ingredients that make up the whole.
"Oh, yes. We co-own 'Bo's Alley.' Are you a close friend of his? I don't recognize you."
He smiled, showing a straight line of white teeth which she likened to the grin of a Cheshire Cat.
"We have a history together. I guess you could say he doesn't like to mix business with pleasure. He's never gone into detail about who we owned the store with.'" Aleena shrugged and overlooked the curiosity in Cheshire Cat man's smile.
She leaned back against the handlebars of her cart, "We have a lot of history as well, and it's a long boring story. Hey, do you have plans for tonight?" He looked surprised at her abrupt question, but responded with a shrug and a shake of his head.
"Would you like to come to dinner tonight?" Noting the few objects in his cart she decided that a man had to have at least one decent meal a week. He would be her good deed for Market Day.
"Is inviting strangers over for meals a normal thing for you?" He was taken aback but readily agreed and handed her his phone when she asked for it. He watched her handle the device, taking in her brown, curly hair piled in a bun on her head, her black running tights and Nike long sleeve. She was pretty damn cute. And forward. He liked that.
"I've put in my address and number. Come at eight and I promise you won't regret it. Oh, and I'm Aleena."
"Chase." He responded, shaking her outstretched hand. Her fingers gripped his firmly before she let go and wheeled away.
"See ya."