A World of Misfits

The cook and the stoner

           

           

The sun playing on my face wakes me up. Why is the sun reaching my bed? It never does reach my bed because my window faces west. I open my eyes and realize I'm in the living room. My neck hurts like a truck ran over it. Why am I sleeping on the couch again? I sit up and look around, confused.

-Good morning! Calls a voice from the kitchen.

Murphy is in the kitchen, wearing the same clothes as last night, cooking breakfast. I try to fix my hair, which I know must look like shit. I stand up from the couch clumsily, walking into the coffee table. I hear her laugh at my morning confusion. I make my way to her and she opens up her arms for a hug. I press myself against her warm body, placing my head on her shoulder and closing my eyes.

-You're not a morning person, are you? She says, her hand playing in my hair.

-No...I hate morning.

She laughs and hugs me tighter.

-Why did we sleep on the couch, my neck hurts! I say with a grumpy voice.

-I guess we fell asleep there and didn't wake up.

I stay in her arms a little longer. I feel better there. The smell of eggs in the kitchen makes me realize how hungry I am. My stomach makes this loud whale noise and Murphy laughs.

-Go sit, I'll bring you coffee.

She gives me a kiss on the forehead and then untangles my body from hers, giving me a little push toward the table. I sit on a chair and Cepa jumps next to me. He meows at me and I pick him up. I pet his head and he starts purring, closing his littles eyes.

-You didn't even tell me his name, Murphy says, talking about the cat.

-Allium Cepa, I say, scratching the cat's chin.

-Let me guess, it's some kind of flower? She asks.

-Actually, it's the Latin name for onion.

She bursts out laughing, which makes me laugh. Cepa jumps on the table, not liking the fact that I stopped petting him to laugh, and sits on the corner of the table, looking at Murphy. I look at her too. Standing in front of the oven, she's watching her eggs in the pan with a soft, effortless smile hanging on her lips and a few strands of hair falling in front of her eyes. She's only standing on one foot, the other pressed against her ankle, which makes her hip go out for balance. Her whole body is skilled in the art of cooking, her eyes inspecting the inside of the pan while her soft hands effortlessly hold the spoon and her wrist slowly makes the motion for the spoon to turn. A soft paw on my nose makes me turn to the cat sitting in front of me on the table. Cepa blinks his little eyes at me a few times, which is the cat way of expressing affection, and I blink back at him. He purrs and comes closer, pressing his head against my chin for cuddles.

-He's so in love with you, she says.

-Since day one, I answer. When I found him, he came right up to me, walking all over my feet so I would stop and pet him. He was tiny, I could see his bones.

-Why did you name him onion.

-Cause he was so stinky! I say as I chuckle.

She laughs.

-I took him to the vet and then home. He was fine, he just needed some food, some warmth, and some love.

Murphy walks to the table, putting down a plate in front of me and sitting down herself. Cepa takes one sniff at the eggs and jumps down the table. We look at him go, then at each other and laugh.