“Yes, because I’m fulfilling your need to volunteer to help people.”
“I appreciate it.” He hums. “Should we maybe go on a hunt for that pancake mix?”
“My sister was here last week, and she usually keeps it in a teal jar. There are three but they should be in the center.” I feel around the counter until my hand is where I need it to be. “Aha, here it is.”
“Yes. That is a very teal jar.”
I laugh, knowing that once I no longer need him today, I’ll be wanting to come up with some excuse to call back. I’m not so sure I need him now, but it’s nice having the cabin filled with avoice that isn’t mine or coming from audiobooks. Yeah, fictional men are great, but they don’t joke back with me or help me make pancakes while in a different house. Lifting the lid, I lean over the counter and point my eyes downward. I shake my head and laugh at myself. I reach into the jar and search for the scooper with my fingers.
It doesn’t take long to measure the right amount into the bowl. Setting the phone down on the windowsill, I turn on the sink and use the same measuring cup to add water to the dry mixture. I’m moving easier around the kitchen now, with much more confidence in my steps as I mix the batter until it feels like the right consistency around my finger. I was always a measure with my heart kind of person, never going based on what any box or recipe said.
“You sure you still need me?”
I turn toward where his voice is coming from. “Oh, right, you’re still here.” I smile cheekily and he laughs.
“So that’s a no then, huh?”
“Actually, I’m about to get to the hard part. Using the stove. I haven’t done it since setting the smoke detector off with my burnt eggs.”
He snorts. “Okay. I’m here when you need me.”
“Are you?”
“Yup. Whenever you’re ready for my assistance, just yell my way.”
“And what all types of assistance are you including?” Okay, maybe I could have got away with saying I wasn’t purposely flirting before, but I’m not so sure I could now. Not that it would get me anywhere, but it does feel nice to be able to again.
“Hmm. Whatever you need, I suppose.”
“Like, if I needed to make sure to clean every crack in my kitchen tile?”
“Yes.”
“And if I needed to make sure I was shaving my face in all the right places?”
“Sure,” he responds promptly.
“What about if I wanted to make sure my underwear matched the rest of my outfit for the day?”
He makes a deep sound with his throat. “Then I’m your guy.”
I stifle a laugh. “Don’t worry. All my underwear is black, and I hardly bother with them anymore anyway.” And why am I telling him this? I cringe on the inside from the lack of filter I have whenever I start my rambling back up. “Sorry . . . I really need to learn when to stop.”
“Like I said before, I’d rather you not. See, I’ve learned more about you in only a few minutes, and now I can cross underwear shopping off the list.”
I bite back a laugh. “Funny. Okay, let’s see if I can do this without adding more burns to my fingers.”
I manage not to come in close contact with the pan or stove as I pour the batter onto the hot skillet after Rafael tells me about a neat trick he learned watching informative videos on YouTube. I’ll have to remember to splash water when checking if the pan is hot enough for the next time I try to cook on my own. Not sure when that’ll be, though, when I much prefer having Rafael watching me while offering his expertise guidance.
“They’re bubbling,” he points out.
“Oh. There has to be another way to know when to flip them.”
“There is. Put the spatula under the pancake, and if it’s not sticking to the pan, then it’s ready to be flipped.”
The corners of my mouth lift. “What channel is this you were watching again?”
“I just searched for learning to cook and other random things while visually impaired. Figured it would help when assisting people on the app.”
