Dishing Up Love

Hours later, we pile into the limo, laughing and whooping in celebration. Both Curtis and Dean and Emmy’s TV shows won for each of their categories, so there’s definitely something to celebrate as the driver takes us all to the after party.

I managed to only have to excuse myself once during the awards ceremony in order to hurry to the bathroom, the smell of so many colognes and perfumes making me nauseous in the theater. Now, I’m absolutely ravenous, and Curtis assures me there will be tons of stuff I can choose from on the buffet at the party.

I’m settling in at a table marked with our names with a plateful of crackers, cheeses, and different deli meats, and Curtis sets a glass of Sprite on the table in front of me. I thank him just as several people come up to our table, and Curtis starts introducing everyone from the network. After the first two, they all start to blur together, but I smile politely, shaking everyone’s hand, making sure to say things like “nice to meet you,” as I try to nibble on the crackers while still looking like I have manners.

Curtis must see how badly I need to eat something, because in the most charming way possible, he looks at everyone and tells them, “If y’all wouldn’t mind, my woman had a nervous stomach before the awards show and really needs to eat something, now that all the excitement is over.” He grins, and everyone nods in understanding, calling out “of course, of course” before waving and heading toward their own tables.

Several minutes later, Emmy and I are in the middle of an intense yet hushed conversation about maternity jeans, when Carlos approaches, giving us all a wave. He slaps Curtis’s shoulder, giving him a wink, and I narrow my eyes as he walks away.

“What was that all about?” I ask, and he grins, pointing up at the screen we are dead center in front of with the perfect view. Suddenly, the screen fills with a video image of Curtis, and my eyes dart to him, but he only grins and points back up at the screen again.

“I’m Chef Curtis Rockwell, and this is Chef to Go. I’ll be surprising one lucky shopper with a chance to take me home with them, where I’ll teach ‘em how to cook a gourmet meal.”

And then the feed cuts to Curtis as he starts walking up and down the aisles like he always does during every episode, searching out his latest victim. I smile as he gives the camera wide eyes, shaking his head vigorously as the little kid kicks their mom and takes off in the opposite direction. And then I lay my head on his shoulder, seeing at a distance when Carlos zoomed in on little baby feet sticking out from beneath a blanket. Curtis makes a sweet face at the camera and then holds his pointer finger over his lips for the international sign to stay quiet as he tiptoes to the next aisle.

Finally, he stops, and a look comes over his face I’ve never seen before. It’s a look of awe, as if he can’t believe his eyes. And then the footage looks different, unedited, almost like a behind-the-scenes reel. It’s no longer perfect, the way it is when you see it on TV.

The camera is a little shaky as I hear Carlos ask, “Yo, Curtis. You good, bro?”

Curtis, not seeming to say it to anyone in particular, replies, “Yeah, I think she’s the one.” And if I hadn’t already recognized the grocery store, I would be one jealous bitch over whichever person Curtis had laid eyes on.

Finally, the camera refocuses down in the distance in the frozen pizza aisle, and standing there is the hot mess express that was me on that night one month ago. I’m leaned up against the freezer door, finishing the telephone call I had with Emmy that night, and when I end the call, I start toward the camera.

I watch the screen, transfixed on Curtis’s back as he heads toward me, and I bite my lip, knowing what happens next. But still, I laugh when I see us collide. That’s when I realize the entire audience around us laughs as well, and then a moment later, everyone lets out a collective “aaawww” as the camera zooms in the moment Curtis’s and my eyes meet for the very first time.

I feel that moment to the depths of my soul, as if I’m feeling it once again for the very first time. Butterflies set off in my stomach, flying up to my chest, their wings tickling my heart as I lean my head on Curtis’s shoulder once again, and he kisses the top of my head.

I ask him quickly, “Is this a viewing of our episode before it airs?”