Worthy of Sin

Nine

Zola 'Slim' Monroe

        Here it was an early Sunday morning, and I somehow found myself embodying the traits of a housewife.

I swore up and down that I would never be the type of bitch to cater to a man by cooking and cleaning unless he was my husband. But, it was clear that he had put it down good enough for me to find the change within myself to do such a thing.

This was new and very sickening.

I started by doing laundry. I needed some things clean and I knew he wouldn't get to his laundry in a timely manner. He claimed he'd get it done today before he left, but I knew it would remain piled up until the following weekend so I got it done for him.

While clothes tumbled around in both the washer and dryer, I stood in the kitchen in an oversized T-shirt of his, preparing breakfast while dancing and swaying my hips along to the music I had playing at the current moment, which was Top of the world by Playa.

I bent over to look in the oven to check on the biscuits I had made from scratch. I figured they could use a few extra minutes so I turned the oven down and closed the door before standing up straight.

When I did so, I collided into another body and I gasped out of sudden fear. "Ooh! Don't do that! The hell is wrong with you?" I turned to face him and he laughed, holding his hands up in defense.

"I'm sorry. That's my bad," He pulled me into him and he kissed my cheek. "Mhm. Good morning,"

"Good mornin', baby. How you sleep?"

"I slept alright, but I ended up waking up hella early so I'm making you breakfast and I did your laundry," He looked at me shocked, but pleased nonetheless.

"I told you I was gon' get it done,"

I shook my head and chuckled, "You weren't though,"

He smiled and leaned in for a kiss, in which I gladly gave.

"Well, thanks anyways,"

"You're welcome. Now go on somewhere so I can finish," I gently and playfully pushed him away as I made my way to his fridge. "You sound like my mama," I chuckled and grabbed the eggs and cheese, as well as a green and red bell pepper to add some flavor.

In the past, I'd never eaten eggs this way, but after having him prepare breakfast for me one time, he advanced my pallet so now it had become routine to eat eggs this way.

"You need some help?" He asks, coming up behind me and I hummed as I thought about what he could help me with since I was already practically done. "Um... you can take the biscuits out of the oven and put some butter on them,"

I laid the ingredients out on the counter before grabbing necessary utensils to dice the peppers and combine them with the other contents.

"Bet." He washed his hands and grabbed a stick of butter and a butter knife out of the strainer before doing what was asked of him.

For a few moments, the only thing to accompany us in our silence outside of continuous chopping sounds was the music playing and birds chirping from outside.

"I have a bone to pick with you," I spoke, dumping the diced peppers into a bowl and he looked over at me. "Why? What I do?"

"Your oven is not a storage place for pots and pans!" I cracked eggs into the bowl and he smacked his lips, a smile. "I don't have any other places to put 'em!"

"Uh-uhn! All this kitchen space and all these cabinets?" He laughed and I chuckled, throwing the eggshells away.

"Yo, get off my back," I shook my head and continued to mix the eggs.