“Like an Egg” by Candra Kolodziej
Once I was sure my eggs weren’t fully cooked, I went to him, where he sat. I sat, and asked him what he wanted. I wanted to know what he wanted in a general way. I knew one or two things he wanted specifically. For example, just the other day I knew he wanted to have sex with me. We were lying on his bed, naked, and he said, “I want to have sex with you.” That was pretty specific. I knew what he wanted. On another day, a cold sunny day, when we were lying in bed with the curtain drawn, he’d said, “I don’t want to make things hard for you.” This was less specific, but in the context of our conversation I knew what he meant. Sort of. Actually, my asking him what he wanted in a general way was partially my own way of clarifying what he meant when he said he wanted to avoid “making things hard” for me. It could have meant a number of things, and honestly, I was worried about which thing it meant. However, given my position at the time, I hadn’t felt I could ask him. My position, at the time, left me less than available to fulfill any number of wants he might have.
I went back to my eggs to give him time to think about what he wanted. I didn’t think he should be rushed so I said, “Wait while I check the eggs.” I hate overcooked eggs and I hate undercooked eggs, so I always watch them closely and wait until they seem just right. This is hard to do, mostly because of the shell. But just because I can’t see the egg itself doesn’t mean I can’t strive to have mine perfectly cooked. Instead of looking at the egg for some sign that it’s done, I look at the water. If it has mostly boiled away, and if foam has started to cling to the edges of the eggs, that’s good. Well, it’s good as long as it hasn’t been happening too long. If the water has been foaming around the eggs too long, the meat of the egg will be dry and chalky; impossible to swallow.
I took the eggs off the burner and refreshed the pot with cold water before going back to where he sat. He was, I guess, thinking about what he wanted. I didn’t say anything, but I sat down beside him and watched. The perfectly cooked egg needs about five minutes in fresh cold water before it’s ready to be eaten. The cooling period is important. Eating the egg at the right time will ensure that the egg is still ever so slightly warm in the center. So, I knew I had five minutes, and if you’ve ever watched someone pause on stage, in a live performance, for even just a minute, you know that watching someone sit in silence for five minutes is the equivalent of watching someone for an eternity. Because I knew this, I started talking. It was my intention to talk about things that weren’t very interesting. I can be quite interesting or quite boring, depending on what the situation demands. My intention was to speak, saying things that were not so interesting as to demand his full attention. Him, thinking about what he wanted, was of the utmost importance to me.
When I started talking I noticed that he turned to watch. He turned his body just slightly, looked at me, and I could tell by the way he was looking that he wanted (in that moment) to kiss me. But I could also tell that he was no longer thinking about what he wanted. He was just wanting. This was not what I wanted. I wanted him to stop actively wanting, and to think about his wanting, and to explain it to me in a way that would allow me to understand what he wanted, with regard to me, generally. Because I was worried that I had distracted him, I stopped talking. I finished my thought abruptly, and I looked at him. He looked at me. I wanted him to kiss me. But I didn’t. I, at that moment, had trouble prioritizing. Realizing this, and looking at him (his eyes smiled even when he didn’t) I smiled and said, “Wait, the eggs are ready.” I said this even though the eggs weren’t ready. The eggs still needed a minute or two of cooling. I went to the kitchen and I made some noise: I opened the fridge, I ran the water in the sink, I coughed.
After two minutes, when the eggs were ready, I put them on a plate and went back to where he sat. He looked like he was really thinking, which was exactly what I wanted, so I decided to open an egg. I gestured toward the plate, suggesting that he do the same. He didn’t.
Once I bit into the egg he spoke. He spoke slowly, which made me nervous. He was being careful, selecting words. I tried to focus on my egg, but when I did I realized the flavor was wrong, just slightly different than the flavor I’d expected. I stopped eating the egg and gave it a close inspection. Everything looked right. It looked like a properly cooked egg. It looked excellent. And yet. I put the egg near my nose and inhaled. It smelled like an egg. But not. I wasn’t sure, so I took another bite. He said, “I’m in a really strange place.” I chewed. I nodded.
Copyright © 2010, Candra Kolodziej
