Charlie Parkinson and I had always been best buds. During summer break from the time we were knee-high grasshoppers, we could always be found with our pants rolled up with our bare feet stuck in the Missouri red clay mud. He lived one farm over. Wherever I went he seemed to follow. I got used to having him tagging along behind me. Eventually, we became best friends. Even as teenagers we could be seen together working side by side for our fathers in the local farmers market twice a week. To all the country folk like us, we had developed a good reputation. Our approach to life was like day and night, we were complete opposites. Being raised in the country had established in me roots that still guided me in my adult life. Charlie did not he had no depth he was a canvas blowing in the wind not really having any plans or directions besides doing what he liked or loved at the time. Each day his like or dislikes would change depending on what he saw or heard.
Every other Sunday we were helping one of our mothers out cooking and preparing those special Sunday dinners. Sunday was set aside to be family time. Besides feeding the animals everything else could wait. My parents raised me in a home where there was no man's job or a woman's job. If one needed help the other pitched in. Each of them encouraged us as we worked in their kitchens or in the fields. Our questions always pushed their thinking into expanding how they did things. Thinking back, it was me who was asking them. As a result, at a young age, I discovered a real interest in cooking. Charlie to be a bit different got into baking.
Charlie found he loved baking and had gotten hired for the weekends by a local bakery when he was thirteen. The more colorful the decorations on his creations the better he liked it. I got hired on at a local ma and pa restaurant and started working my way up. With them, I got to use to doing everything or anything when needed. Every spare moment I had, as a result, was glued to the food channel. For me, it was a gift. I watched and learned as I saw many pushing the envelope.
It became a family tradition that every time our parents shared a meal, we each had to create our own item. The only restriction was that it had to complement the dinner. Neither one of us saw it a chore to both of us it was fun. It didn't take long to learn the one's toughest critics could be your own parents.
By the time we reached high school, it was well known what our lifelong career path was going to be. Charles and I both went to our prospective culinary schools out of grade ten and had excelled. It had been quite the fight with my parents they thought I should finish grade twelve, but I held my ground until they finally gave in.
At the age of twenty, we both were working our way up in the restaurant industry getting the needed experience at a young age. As a result, life had drawn us apart. By accident, we both had returned home at the same time. We were catching up.
The first time we saw Tracy was at the local fall fair back home. We had both had come home to help our family's quest for the 'best in' rewards for the umpteenth year. We both said the same thing about her without meeting her at all. The way she looked walked and carried herself said it all.
The lady knew she was hot and was not afraid to use her assets to her advantage. We called her a mankiller because at that time she was verbally riding what we thought was her date's ass because of something she thought he had done. We joked that by the time she got through with him he'd be lucky to have his balls left. We joked that if the mankiller ever got married it would be to a wimp because we got the impression from her that she always must be the one in control.
We laughed because we felt with her attitude no man had a chance. The man would be better off crawling into a hole and dying. The profanity coming out of her mouth because of her anger was very telling. If we could give it a description, we most likely would say it was blue lightening.
An hour later the giant Ferris Wheel broke down. The volunteer fire department was called. There were two little very scared little girls stuck at the very top. Charlie and I were soon climbing our way up each carrying rope to bring the stranded people down. We had started lowering them down when the firemen showed up. Between us all, it took about an hour, but we got it done. The two little girls were reconnected with their mom. Right afterward we went over to the legion's beer stand to award ourselves with a cold one.
We were just about finished our first one trying to decide if we had time for another one when the mankiller showed up planting another.
"This is my way of saying thank you for saving my cousins children from a frightful situation. My name is Tracy Barton." Said the mankiller as she offered her hand.
"This is my best friend Charlie Patterson and I'm Riley Pearson. It's nice to meet you and thank you for the beers but it really wasn't necessary." I said.
"Are you two locals." She asked.
That ended up with us explaining we were just back home to see the fair and to catch up with things because we both had professional jobs working for pristine restaurants in the city. We learned that she was in university and was visiting. I happened to mention that I had seen her with her boyfriend. She laughed and said I would not date a stupid ass like that, that was my cousin. My taking him down a peg or two was long overdue.
It was about two weeks later after the dinner rush was over when one of the waiters came over to me. Riley, there's a mother and daughter that want to give their compliments to the chef in person and since you're the highest-ranking Jr. Chef still on it should be you. With nothing pending, I took the time to go out bringing with me a couple of complimentary specialty desserts. It was Tracy and her mom. We talked for a few and I thought nothing of it. At the end of my shift, I found herself waiting for me. That's how our relationship started.
