Page 29 of Picking Pismo

David paused mid-stroke, moving a sleeping Jasper on the cushion next to him. “Good.” He glanced over at his parents, wondering if he should tell them more. Like how Claire was both fascinating and intriguing. Like how she managed to fill a void in his life he didn’t really know was there until now. David leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and steepled his hands together. “Claire and I’ve been hanging out a lot since then.”

“Is that right?” Stephen folded his arms. “And by hanging out do you mean helping her out or dating?”

Returning to her seat next to Stephen, Kelly readjusted the blanket over her lap. “David…” Her voice was pointed. “Please tell me you didn’t kiss her already.” She tilted her head to the side, studying him.

David shifted, gripping both sides of the couch cushion. “I like Claire. I think there might be something there.” His gaze darted between his parents, judging their reaction.

Kelly shook her head. “David, this isn’t a good idea. Claire just lost her mom. And she’s moving soon. It won’t work.” She wagged her finger at him. “And I know how you love a project and love to be the hero.”

“It isn’t like that.” David ran a hand down the length of his face. “I know none of it makes sense, but I enjoy being with Claire, and Alexis too. And it’s too late, I like her, and I’ve already kissed her.”

Stephen smirked.

Kelly threw up her hand. “I asked you to help her with a garage sale, not date her,” she groaned.

“I thought you liked Claire.” David stated, pointing at Kelly. “You practically pushed me onto her when you volunteered for me to spend a whole Saturday with her. What did you expect?”

Kelly threw down both of her hands on top of the blanket. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Not this.” Then she glanced at her watch. “Your five minutes are up. We’ll have to talk about this later. I worry about you getting hurt. They’re moving, and you’re not.” She folded her arms.

“Be careful David.” Stephen picked up the remote and fast forwarded through the commercials, cuing it to the correct spot. “Claire and Alexis will be gone soon. It’s probably best to not start anything.” Then he turned the TV back on.

“It’s too late,” muttered David under his breath. “I couldn’t back out now if I wanted to.”

If only they knew, Claire already had him wrapped around her finger. And Alexis only sweetened the deal. David regretted stopping by his parents’ house. Naïvely, David thought they would be happy for him. Because for the first time in however long, David was optimistic about his future. The last few years of being alone—well, lonely—weren’t ones he wanted to repeat. Claire and Alexis had brightened his life in a way he didn’t know he needed. So, though it wasn’t wise, David didn’t care. He planned on leaning into the feeling of happiness, even if it eventually blew up in his face.

* * *

Slowly, pushing the cart down the aisle, David stopped in front of the endcap with shelves of tortillas. “What kind of tortillas do we need? Flour or corn?” He shifted his weight, glancing over at Alexis.

Alexis peered down at her list of ingredients. Her finger ran across the paper. “It doesn’t say.” She groaned. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she finally said, “My gut tells me we need to buy corn tortillas.”

David grabbed a pack of the corn tortillas off the shelf, tossing it into the cart. “Let’s go with your gut. Isn’t that what every expert chef says?”

Alexis laughed. Her demeanor softening. “I, personally, don’t know any expert chefs. Do you?”

David tipped up the bill of his baseball cap a tad. “No, but it’s on those cooking shows.” He wandered further down the aisle. “They tell you to work with what you have.”

“You watch cooking shows?” Alexis’s eyes widened while she trailed along beside him. “Why? You said you don’t cook.”

“I watch it more to see the creative process. I like the one where they have to cook something with a secret ingredient.” Pausing, David stopped in the middle of the aisle. “I’ve no clue what the show is called or why I like it so much.”

Putting a hand to her chest, Alexis replied, “Please don’t look at me,” she shook her head. “I don’t know how to psychoanalyze that. I’m a teenager.”

David laughed. The subject was dropped.

“Ahh, okay, let’s see.” Alexis peered down at her list again. “Next, we need shredded cheese.” She groaned as she double checked the list, then she tilted it in David’s direction for him to see. “Again, it doesn’t say what kind.” Her shoulders drooped. Running a hand through her hair, Alexis added, “These are going to turn out horrible. I see why Claire can’t cook. This is harder than I thought.” Her eyes started to mist. “Mom always knew what to buy. She would literally get the shopping done in ten minutes flat. I’d just wander along behind her while she grabbed everything, she needed without even stopping the cart.”

David readjusted his baseball cap. “I’m sure she was good at it.” Wrapping an arm around Alexis’s shoulder, he lowered his voice, “But we’ll get better at this too. Promise. If we mess these up, because we get the ingredients all wrong, we can try again next week. It’s no big deal.” He gave her shoulders a slight squeeze before letting go.

“I guess you’re right.” Alexis grabbed a pack of random cheese and placed it in the cart.

They continued down the ethnic food aisle, stopping in front of rows of enchilada sauce.

Clearly losing her steam, Alexis grabbed a random type of enchilada sauce without even double checking and tossed it into the cart. David wanted to make sure they were covered so he grabbed two different types too and added them to the cart.

“I don’t know why I’m putting so much pressure on myself for these enchiladas to turn out…” Her voice trailed off, and Alexis stared directly in front of her. Biting her quivering bottom lip, Alexis dragged her feet slowly down the aisle. David slowed his speed to match her steps, wondering if he should jump in with another word of encouragement or allow her time to process everything. Alexis cleared her throat then finally said, “Maybe it’s because if I get them right then it’s one more thing I can manage to do without Mom. Like if I can make these, then all the other little things that pop up will be manageable too. I worry too though as I manage things without her eventually, I’ll forget her altogether.”

“No,” David shook his head. “Impossible. Your mom will always be a part of you. Though I get why you are feeling discouraged, you have to remember half of life is messing up and trying again until you get it right.”

---