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It's Tuesday, and Tuesday is shopping day!
Tuesday might seem like a strange time to shop, but actually, it's the best day; the stores are not crowded like weekends, it's not Monday because Monday sucks, and it's not Wednesday when all the people who forgot to go shopping and thought they could make it through the week give in and head to the shops. No, Tuesday is the best day to shop.
I live in the woods with a nice town not far, so I don't bother with a car. I grab my basket, one of those ones used for picnics, and head out—List! I always forget the list! Alright, now I head out.
A dirt path leads through the forest with swatches of shivering light shining down through the windblown leaves.
The walk always seems to be almost meditative, especially after the long day at the bakery; breathing in the sweet smells of the new spring growths, the warmth of the sun, the sounds of birds...
I barely feel my foot catch on something when—"AAAAH!!"—I'm flat on my face in the dirt, my glasses crushed into the bridge of my nose, and my hands were too worried about saving the damn basket to save me. Thanks, guys.
Setting the basket down, I push myself up, freezing as I feel a set of large hands grip my arm to help me.
Following the hands up, I see...dirt. My damn glasses are covered in mud.
Peeling the glasses out of my soon-to-be bruised face, I squint at what kinda looks like a...panda?
"Hey, you should be more careful sir; that was my leg you tripped on! Are you alright?"
Alright, so probably not a panda; I wipe my muddy glasses on my...gosh dang it, my nice, frilly, green vest and put them on as I am helped up.
Standing face to chest with what I can now tell to be a quite large man with silky black hair and a curled mustache, I flush, stepping back.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I was zoned out, and...actually, why the heck were you on the ground where I could trip on you?"
He laughs and turns, reaching behind a bush and retrieving a bag. Opening it, he reaches in and retrieves a handful of blueberries.
"You got me there, sir! I was picking blueberries, and it's easier to just lie down instead of kneeling for so long."
My mind goes blank as I stare up at this burly man who looks like he builds houses.
"Blueberries?"
"Yes!" he adds with a nod. "All these bushes here are blueberries, and I haven't ever seen anyone else take them, so I pick my fill."
Wow, Joe, way to stereotype. "Oh...uh...cool?"
"Yeah, it is cool! Would you like some, sir?" He nods to my basket.
"Oh! Uh...no, this is for my groceries."
Now that he mentions it though, blueberries were on my list...
"Well, I could give you a bag then!"
"Oh, no, I couldn't carry all that and my groceries."
"No problem, I could carry the bag for you! Think of it as an apology for tripping you."
"That's very nice, but I still have to go to the store; you'd have to walk around with me, and I wouldn't ask you to do that."
"Well, do you come back this way?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Great! I'll just meet you back here and walk you home for you after."
My eyes widen slightly. Walk me home? I guess, even if he's kinda a weirdo...that mustache is kinda cute.
"That'd actually be awesome, uh..."
He chuckles, "Bob."
I feel my cheeks warm in the cooling evening air as I offer a smile.
"Bob. I'm Joe."
Bob slings the bag over his shoulder. "Well Joe, you'd better get to the shops before they close."
"Oh, yes! Uh, see you in a bit!"
I wave as I head off.
I step carefully down the path with my now very heavy basket clutched in my hands as the evening dark entrenches the forest. I had forgotten about Bob and his blueberries until I very nearly tripped over him for the second time today.
He smiles up at me. "Is this how you say hello?"
My cheeks grow warm.
"Maybe if you weren't always on the ground I could manage a normal greeting."
We laugh together as he stands.
"So, are we off?"
"Yep"
Following what we can see of the path, we start the short trek to my house.
Bob nods to my basket. "So what's all that?"
"Oh, just stuff for the week, dinners mostly."
"Oh really? What's on the menu for tonight then?"
I chuckle and look through the basket.
"Uh...I'm thinking tacos."
He perks up, "Oh, tacos are just the best! What kind? Beef, pork?"
My face scrunches up. "Uh, neither. Actually I'm vegetarian, so I like tofu."
Blinking, he nods slowly, clearly forgetting that was an option.
"Ah...well, a taco is a taco; I'm sure they are going to be great."
A smile tugs on my lips; that's probably the best someone has taken it.
"Do you ever make them with blueberries?"
That smile falls so fast along with the rest of my face. I stop dead in my tracks. What the heck did he just say to me? I'm more disturbed than if a dead bird hit me in the head.
"Excuse me?"
He laughs as if he has not just committed a crime.
"Of course not raw, or plain, or the like. I mean like a sauce or grilled with vegetables?"
Yeah, not helping.
"No...can't say I have..."
"Really? Oh goodness! You have to try it; I have this blueberry sauce, and I have gotten quite good reviews."
I'm going to hurl, or he's going to kill me because he's a psycho murderer—maybe both.
"Yeah, it's got peppers and stuff, but Joe, the blueberries, they just change everything. Hey, since we're already going to your house and I've got the blueberries, maybe I could make some for you?"
Hesitating, I search his face for a murderous twinkle or something but come up empty. I'm going to be disowned for this.
"...Fine, but only because you carried my blueberries for me."
We soon make it to my cottage.
Bob helps me put my groceries away and I get set up to start cooking.
I still can't believe I'm allowing such heresy in my home, but I provide whatever Bob needs to make his sauce.
With a thunk, Bob sets the berry bag on the counter, and we both get to work.
My kitchen was definitely not made for two cooks; Bob and I keep bumping into each other as we work, but with a few spills and only one thing broken, we soon are rewarded (and possibly punished) with tacos and blueberry sauce.
Bob looks proudly down at our work.
"Great! Now we just have to put them together."
I watch him pick up the bowl of sauce and can't help, but to turn away as he drizzles the liquid evil on my beauties.
He lifts the platter and offers it to me when the deed is done.
"Well, you should at least try them while they are still hot!"
I shake my head mournfully as I take a taco in my hand. My face almost pleads with him not to make me, but he just chuckles; he is a psychopath!
I take a bite.
Oh gosh no...
They are good; no, my tacos alone are good, these...these are great.
My eyes widen as I continue to take in the radiant mix of spice and sweet.
"Holy shit..."
Bob grins like a kid.
"Did I not tell you? Did I not assure you of its greatness? Yet still you doubted me! Hey, leave me one!"
I almost reluctantly hand over the platter, but I do, continuing to munch on mine.
"You know," I say through a full mouth, "it's kinda culturally instinctive how good your sauce is."
Bob chokes out a laugh through his taco.
"Oh wow, I will be taking that as a compliment! But really, your tacos go so well with it; I can do sauce, but I fail in regard to tacos. I guess I will leave them to you!"
I smile and finish the beautiful food.
"Oh? Does that mean I'll be seeing you, and your sauce, more then?"
His eyebrows raise, but he smiles, saying, "Well, I know I would love to do this again; I would happily wreck all of your diners if you let me!"
I feel my face warm as he says that.
"No, I don't think I mind."