After all, the Holts are rich. Julian is an attorney with a very successful practice, and as a result, he and his son eat well. In fact, they have a maid who does most of the grocery shopping, so they definitely have a full pantry. Meanwhile, I mostly eat the free food from Harry’s, which is pretty greasy and unhealthy, but beggars can’t be choosers. I save a lot by eating for free at the diner, and I’m not about to overlook that gift.
Yet my boyfriend doesn’t get it and shoots me a harsh look. “You know how much I love this movie, Serenity. I don’t know why you want me to get up to get a snack when I know you’re not into this movie at all.”
I stare at him.
“You can pause the movie. It’s not like you’re going to miss out on any crucial plot twists.”
Stewie scoffs. “Come on, Serenity. Let me watch my movie!” he demands. “How about you go into the kitchen and make us some popcorn? You’re so good at it, being a waitress and all.”
I stare at him. Harry’s doesn’t serve popcorn, and I’m a waitress, not a chef.
“Yeah, but I worked all week. I just got off a long shift, in fact.”
“Yeah, but that’s not really anything,” Stewie pouts. “I know that job is easy for you and you could do it with your eyes closed.”
I blow out a breath. Being a waitress comes easily to me because I’m a good fit for the position. I like interacting with customers, and I’m good at taking orders and making sure people get their food on time. But still, that doesn’t justify pigeonholing me as a popcorn popper! What the hell? I try one last time to reason with my boyfriend, gritting my teeth.
“I’m a waitress, which means I’m on my feet all day when I’m at work. I don’t just sit on the couch, and I’m tired today.”
Stewie merely shrugs, his eyes glued to the screen.
“If you stand all day, then you’re used to it. You can stand by the microwave and make me some popcorn. Or better yet, I think we just got one of those Air-O-Matic Poppers. You know, that fancy machine where you pour whole kernels inside? Look around the cupboards,” he instructs. “I know Maria hid it in there somewhere.”
Giving up, I throw my hands up in the air. This really sucks, yet I’m so tired of fighting that I’ll just make the damned popcorn. I storm into the kitchen and yank open the pantry door, but the Holts’ pantry is like a Costco, it’s so big. It’s stocked to the ceiling with any type of food stuff you might need, and after a few minutes, I give up trying to look for the Air-O-Matic. It’s going to be microwave popcorn for us tonight.
With that, I grab a pouch from the cupboard next to the refrigerator, disposing of the plastic wrap with a loud crinkle. Then, I throw the offensive snack into the microwave and hit start. As the bag cooks, I lean against the counter and mess around on my phone. If I’m being honest, being in the kitchen is a lot more entertaining than watching that movie because there are some cool new recipes for chocolate-coated Oreos and double fudge brownies that just popped up. Very awesome. I’ll have to try some of these during my day off.
Suddenly, a weird smell starts emanating from the microwave. Oh shit, I wasn’t paying attention and now the popcorn is burning! The entire downstairs is going to smell like smoke for weeks if I don’t do something. Scrambling, I stop the microwave, retrieve the steaming bag of microwaveable popcorn and look at it. It’s hopeless. The edges of the bag are singed, and it smells terrible. Resigned, I throw the entire thing in the garbage. Phew! At least I didn’t start a fire.
But then Stewie storms in, his handsome features twisted with anger.
“What the fuck happened?”
“I burned the popcorn,” I explain in an even tone. “I was distracted by a really cool recipe I found on-line. But don’t worry, I’ll put a second bag in and keep an eye on it.”
Unfortunately, my boyfriend is too enraged to calm down.
“Seriously? I keep telling you to stay off the internet because you’re always getting into dumb recipes. You never even end up making that shit! Plus, it’s microwave popcorn, so what the fuck happened? Did you not use the timer or something?”
I grit my teeth as anger rises in my chest.
“Yes, I did use the timer but your microwave must be really powerful. Trust me, the second bag will turn out fine. You can go back to watching the movie.”
But Stewie decides to be an ass.
“No, I’m here now. I need to make sure you don’t screw things up again. God, I can’t believe you fucked up popcorn. It’s like the easiest thing in the world to make, Serenity, and I was doing it in third grade. What the fuck? Did you not graduate from elementary school or something?”