Chili- a short story just for my blog readers

chili illustration

Chili

Janelle Meraz Hooper

My website: Janelle Meraz Hooper

Just for fun…one of the (short) stories in my head…

Joy has been through a rough divorce—but she’s learning to make it work for her…

When her doorbell rang, Joy went to the head of the stairs to see who was there. From where she was all she could only see was the top of some guy’s head in a black cowboy hat. It was enough. She turned around and went back to her kitchen. She was stirring a pot of homemade chili when she heard the latch on her Dutch door in the kitchen click.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” the man chuckled.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Why?”

“The last time I let you in while I was making chili I ended up married to you.”

“Is that a bad thing? Let’s go to dinner and talk about it.”

“No, I’m making chili. Want some? She was already putting an extra bowl on the table.

He cautiously sniffed the air, “Did you put chili powder in it?”

“Of course. That’s why they call it chili.” She pointed to the refrigerator, “Peanut butter is that way.”

“You’re still keeping your peanut butter in the refrigerator?”

“Yes. Did you think I did it for twenty-three years just to annoy you?”

Her ex-husband took a bite of the chili and shuddered. “Joy, it’s a beautiful day out. Let’s take the boat out on the sound; I’ll buy you some fresh shrimp. ”

“Can’t. I leased the yacht out for the summer.”

The man groaned, but he quickly recovered. “Then let’s take out the bike. I’ll buy you lunch in Gig Harbor.”

“Can’t. I sold it.”

“What’s left?” he asked.

“I still have the house. Want to mow the grass?”

“I’ll pass.”

“So why are you here?”

“I stopped by to see if you wanted to get married again.”

“Why would I do that? I already have the house, a car, a yacht, half your money and a big pot of chili.”

“I wish you’d taken half of Lenore too.”

“What’s the matter? She leave you?” He shook his head yes. “That was quick. How long did this one last?”

The man hung his head and mumbled something unintelligible.

“Well, eat up. I’ve got a date.”

The man’s head snapped up, “With who?”

“Whom,” Joy corrected, “and you don’t know him. He’s just some guy who has a boat for the summer.”

the end


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