“And you wanted to know if I could cook!”

Stuffed Peppers
by Erin Halfelven

Brian struggled with unlocking the door to his apartment again. Someone had left the door at the end of the hall open to the weather, and now it was stuck again from the damp outside. Damp was a bit of an understatement. It was like an overcrowded homeless animal shelter out there, and he was soaked through from his wool cap to his silk socks.

He trudged through the entryway, resisting the urge to shake himself like a dog, kicked off his shoes, padded into the living room, and, spotting the TV remote beside the big chair, he headed toward it.

A beautiful blonde woman wearing a very domestic-looking apron over her corded pants came out of the kitchen. “Oh, just in time, Bri. I’m taking the stuffed peppers out of the oven right now.” She started to turn back toward the kitchen when Brian jumped out of his chair.

“Who the fuck are you?” he shouted.

She stopped and looked back at him. “Did you hit your head? I’m Tommie, of course. I just have my hair pulled back ‘cause I’m cooking.” She pulled a scrunchy loose and shook out her shoulder-length curls. “See? It’s me!” She laughed. “When you told me you had face-blindness, I never expected you to forget what I looked like two or three times a month!”

“Tommy is my roommate!” Brian was still shouting, with a few arm waves added like he was conducting a marching band.

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m your roommate now and up until a few moments ago, I was your new girlfriend, too!”

Brian collapsed back into his chair, not facing the blonde anymore. “Tommy’s a guy! I’ve known him since middle school…we’ve been roomies since we came to the city to go to college.”

The blonde came into the living room, where Brian could see her again. She put her hands on her hips and asked with some annoyance. “Do I look like a guy? Honestly, Brian!” She stomped back toward the kitchen. “I have to take the peppers out before they burn!”

Brian blinked. “New girlfriend?” he said, sounding bemused. “Oh, no!” He stood and turned toward the kitchen, moving so he could see Tommie using a big gingham oven mitt, taking a tray of peppers out of the oven.

“I made pork sausage stuffing with rice instead of cracker crumbs; it’s going to be yummy,” she said. The sight and smell were both intoxicating.

Brian gazed at her, taking in the glorious halo of her golden hair, her trim figure, ample bosom and slender legs. Brian had never once mistaken Tommy for a six-foot blonde with breasts before, no matter how bad his prosopagnosia got.

She beamed at him. “See!” She held the tray of stuffed peppers up for him to admire. “And you wanted to know if I could cook!”

Brian rubbed his face with both hands, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Tommy—” She turned. “—Tommie!”

“About not knowing who I am?” she asked absently, putting the hot tray on the range top where it could cool before serving. “I made a salad, too, and we’ve got that good bread you bought at the bakery.”

“No,” said Brian, sounding distracted this time. He turned away from watching her prance happily around the kitchen. “I never should have bought that discount wish from that old woman on 43rd Street.”