Lips Like Coffee

cup: 7

Pen

My neck was killing me. I had slept at the worst angle possible, and now regretted falling asleep in the couch. Rubbing at the stiff spot, I tried to loosen the knot that had formed there. As I opened my eyes, I saw Norma setting down a plate of eggs and toast on the coffee table. I instantly became excited, and asked if she had made me a plate as well.

"Good morning to you too," she replied, then sat in the empty space on the floor.

"Sorry, good morning. Did you make me breakfast too," I asked again, expectation clear in my voice.

"No, you weren't awake."

My jaw dropped at her words, and I stared at her in utter shock. Who only makes breakfast for themselves? Collecting myself, I went to the kitchen to check, because she could have been joking. I checked the microwave, the refrigerator, and the oven but came up empty. She really hadn't made me breakfast, wow. Going back in the living room, I asked her why she didn't make me anything to eat.

Norma shrugged. "If you weren't awake to eat, you don't get food made, that's just how I grew up."

"You were going to make us lunch yesterday, and I was sleeping," I said, and she she tilted her her as she pulled on side of her mouth back.

"I only said us, so you wouldn't be upset. Truthfully, I was just going to make me a grilled cheese."

Again my jaw fell open at her response, yet I wasn't even upset. I understood why she hadn't made me breakfast, but I was still shocked that she hadn't. Was it not common courtesy to make food for the person you lived with? It was just a different concept to me.

Norma had finished her food, and was taking her plate to the kitchen. I followed behind her, asking why she didn't get food if she wasn't awake. Wasn't that kind of neglectful? She only shook her head, then whispered something under her breath. Beginning to wash out her dish, she began explaining to me why food wasn't always made for everyone.

"Reheating food is the main reason, especially eggs. Why give somebody cold food, when they can eat if hot if they make it themselves?"

"Why not just wake them up?"

"Because people get attitudes if you wake them up, and I'm not dealing with nobody attitude early in the morning."

Fair. I guess it made sense, but I still was a bit sad she hadn't made breakfast for me. While she stood at the sink, I bent down a bit to rest my chin on her shoulder. Before I could even get a word out, she shot me down. She said, she's not making a grown man with two hands no food. Of course, I wasn't taking no for answer, and I guess that's what's wrong with a lot of men these days. Still with my chin on her shoulder, I pleaded with her to make me breakfast.

When she dipped her shoulder from under my chin, I put it right back as she began to scrub the pan she made her eggs in. Again she moved from under me, then moved toward the fridge. Not giving up my fight, I followed every move she made as I begged her to make me food. She was firm in her answer, but I had also started to realise that she actually was making me something to eat. I watched as she cracked eggs into a bowl, then mixed in some seasoning and cheese.

A smile made its way across my face, and I once again leaned against her as I watched her work. Her movements were quick and concise; it was like she was born to scramble eggs. They smelt wonderful, and that made me frown a little. My eggs never smelt this good before.

"What did you put in these eggs, they smell so good," I commented, standing up straight as I put an arm around her shoulder.

"Seasoning, you do season your eggs, Pen," she asked, glancing at me from her peripheral.