Frankie Beverly & Maze’s song, Morning After, played from his phone at the same time he worked on cooking their meal. He danced by himself and sang out of tune to the music using a spatula as a microphone. Bewildered, yet intrigued by his energy, Olivia observed him in action until he noticed her.
“Ah. Olivia. I see you clean up nice. Come in, my dear. Breakfast is ready.” He removed two plates covered in foil from the oven where he kept them warm. “I’m finishing the scrambled eggs. Please have a seat and I’ll serve you.”
In a daze, Olivia stumbled to the kitchen table and plopped into a chair. She tried to connect with the emotions she experienced. Brinson is the first man she’d been with since Malcolm. Having a male presence cooking in her house stirred up a weird sensation in her gut. One she kind of liked.
“I see the cat still has your tongue. Are you hungry?” Brinson placed a glass of orange juice in front of her. He took command of her kitchen as if he were the host.
“I’m still adjusting to you being here. I see you found something in my refrigerator to cook. I happened to buy comfort food the other day to get through a rough week,” Olivia explained. “Whatever you prepared smells amazing and yes, I’m hungry.”
Brinson set a steaming hot cup on the table. The aroma of fresh ground coffee wafted to her nostrils. “You had exactly what I needed. By the way, how do you like your java?”
“Black coffee. No sugar or cream. Watching calories,”
Olivia spouted. She patted her flat tummy.
“Sweetheart. You can eat anything you want with your amazing body. Everything is perfect the way it is.” Brinson’s eyes lingered on her as if captivated.
“Um. Thank you for the compliment.” Olivia’s cheeks grew warm from knowing he’d seen her everything.
Brinson chuckled and removed the foil from the dishes. After adding scrambled eggs to the feast, he set a filled plate on her placemat. He sat in the chair next to her with his food. “What we have here is bacon, pancakes with butter and syrup, and scrambled eggs with cheese. I hope you find everything to be satisfying to your taste buds.”
“Whoa. How did you whip everything up this fast? I didn’t think I stayed in the bathroom for long. Fluffy pancakes the way I like them. This looks like a gourmet meal,” Olivia said.
“Well thank you, Madam. I aim to please. Dig in.” Brinson handed Olivia a fork and waited for her to taste the food.
“Wait, let’s bless the meal first. Would you like to do it?” Olivia bowed her head and waited for Brinson to pray.
“Um. Why don’t you go ahead and pray to your God?” Brinson responded.
Olivia peeked an eye open out of curiosity. “Pray to my God? What is that supposed to mean? We’ll come back to that in a second.” She closed her eyes and said a prayer of grace for the food.
“Okay, let me see if the food tastes as good as it looks.” Olivia picked up her fork and began eating with such enthusiasm, Brinson chortled.
“I hope you are enjoying your breakfast.” Brinson began eating from his plate.
“Um. Yes. This is delicious. Either I’m starving, or you
prepared an outstanding meal. I don’t want to stop eating,” Olivia exclaimed. She continued devouring the feast until the contents on the plate rested in her stomach. A belch slipped from her lips. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oops. Sorry. Excuse me.”
“I consider it a compliment to the cook.” Brinson laughed.
Olivia placed the fork on the plate and wiped her mouth with the napkin. The food helped to relax her mind for the moment. She recalled something Brinson said before they began to eat. “I have to ask you, why did you tell me to ‘pray to my God’ before I blessed the food?”
“Oh, that?” Brinson flipped his hand as if to dismiss his statement. “I don’t worship your God. I’m agnostic.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh. Agnostic. Why?”
Brinson chuckled before taking a bite of bacon. He took his time chewing before answering Olivia’s question. “Here we go. Conversion time.”
“I’m curious about your choice to be an agnostic. Were you ever a believer?” Olivia slurped sips from her coffee cup, anticipating Brinson’s response.
“My parents were strict endorsers of the belief about keeping their kids in some form of worship all day on Sunday. You know the drill, Sunday School, church, lunch at someone’s house, followed by the afternoon program, which lasted until nine at night.”
“With an A and B selection by at least four choirs?”
“Make that A, B, C, D, and E selections.” Brinson laughed. “Oh, and of course, Bible Study on Wednesday and choir rehearsal on Saturday.”
“So basically, you had TMC?”
“TMC? What’s that?”
“Too much church.”
“Way too much church. We should’ve set up beds in the sanctuary.” Brinson took another bite of food. “After high school, I studied theology in Dallas. My folks groomed me to go into ministry.”
Olivia raised her left brow in confusion. “Did you go to seminary school before or after attending The University of West Oklahoma?”
“Uh. Before.” Brinson shrugged.
Olivia did a mental calculation of the years he may have been referring to. Savvy’s words made her begin to doubt his time in college. She’d have to ask more questions about it later. “So, how did you decide not to believe in God anymore?”
Brinson wiped his mouth with his napkin. He leaned against the back of the chair. His expression changed to one of pain. “Life used to be great. I had the best parents one could ever ask for. But…” Brinson stopped talking and stared at his plate. He appeared to have transported his mind away from the present time.
“Brinson. Are you okay?” Olivia tapped his arm with her fingers.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Brinson shook his head and focused his
