Tofu Scrambler

1 package of firm tofu, mashed
1 packet of tofu scrambler seasoning
olive oil to wet
salt to season

Mix ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Fry mixture in a large iron skillet till browned. Server alone, with salad, with bread, or fried tomatoes.

"It's pretty much ready," she calls to him in the living room, after teasing him for 15 minutes about how good her lunch was going to be.

She moves from the skillet to the sink. Early start on washing up to make things easier later. The flame is still medium-low, the scramble keeps cooking.

He comes in an sits at the table. A minute passes. She still washes and scrubs at the prep dishes and his breakfast dishes. The scrambler still is burning. She looks over at her shoulder at him. He returns the gaze.

"Were you expecting me to serve you?"

He pops up. "No. I was just sitting."

He clamors his way through the dishes to find suitable one. He selects one sitting underneath six others. He pulls it out and closes the cabinet. He pours himself enough food to feed her for two days. He selects a fork in the deepest part of the drawer, searching through all the silver and wood and plastics. All the spoons and chopsticks, knives and forks. She wonders if they too, remain as still as possible hoping he'd think they were asleep.

When he is done groping his fingers in dark places in search of that one item he wants, he kisses her briskly on the cheek and begins to leave the room. Just before he exits, he looks back and says, "You know, I always serve you when I make meals."

When you always make meals. The only meal you've made in the past month has been the one last night that I asked you to make. And even then, when I asked for friend linguini, you gave it to me boiled. Plain.

She wonders what he thinks.