When I was ten my family took us out for dinner. It is the first time I remember eating anything other than momma or grandmomma’s cooking. They were the best cooks I knew and even when I went to friend’s houses you could bet I had a lunch bag packed with whatever everyone else at home was going to eat that night. This didn’t make me too popular, especially in the lunchroom where others were either forced to go through the lunch line or were stuck with the normal peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for sandwiches and I’m sure the lunch line is an okay option too but momma always said that nothin’ shows love more than home cookin’. Some kids used to tell me that even poor boys could afford a slice of pizza once a week. Others would occasionally knock my food onto the floor and pretend it was an accident. Little did they know, I would scoop that made-with-love food back into whatever container and take it to the bathroom to eat it where no one could tell me how disgusting I was.

I never did learn to cook myself. I always let my momma and grandmomma do that. They assured me that they enjoyed it and that one day I would find a woman of my own who would make me meals just as good as them. I was certainly counting on that. Instead, they instilled into me the value of a hard day’s work. I was in charge of the lawn, the cars, and anything in the house that went wrong. Granted, that was a little difficult for a fifteen-year-old to handle without the magic of the internet – but I did it.

Grandmomma died when I was a junior in high school. That was a tough one but I had my girlfriend, Cecile, to help me through it. Sweet girl. She reminded me of grandmomma in many ways but after we graduated I found her in bed with one of her coworkers from the big chain retail store in town. Momma told me that I had dodged a bullet with that one, that she had always known Cecile was trouble. She was just trying to make me feel better.

Cecile had been my first girlfriend and after that, it seemed more difficult to meet girls, especially since I met very few at the hardware store where momma’s second cousin had given me a job that summer. The girls who did come in were either following some burly man who I wouldn’t want to come across after dark or they were the type of girls who took one look at me and scoffed as I told them about the latest tools that we had come in.

Elaine was the first girl that summer who really talked to me and it didn’t even happen when I was working. I had gone to the farmer’s market to get fruits and vegetables for the week for momma and Elaine was selling strawberries. I knew the moment that she said hi that she was different from other girls. We talked for about five minutes before some woman nudged me out of the way, asking Elaine questions about the berries.

I hurried home and dropped off the food and then ran back to the market and waited until I saw Elaine packing up. I walked over and asked if I could help and she smiled at me. Me. I carried all her stuff to her pickup and made sure everything was secure.

She offered me a ride home and I was thrilled. Granted, I only lived a few blocks away but it was still a few extra minutes where I got to learn more about her. When we pulled up to my place she got out and grabbed a few more cartons of strawberries out of the back and handed them to me, thanking me for helping her. That’s when I asked if I could take her to a movie the next day. No surprise, she said yes.

Elaine picked me up the next night and I took her to some chick flick that had just come out. Cecile used to like those and Elaine seemed to as well. Momma had even sent two packs of homemade snacks with me so we wouldn’t have to eat the stale movie theater popcorn. Elaine didn’t seem to mind. That night was full of laughs and playfulness so when we walked back out to her truck, talking about the movie and the night in general, I saw no better time. We stopped by the back of the truck and I leaned forward to kiss her.

Elaine backed away. She backed away from me. She was stuttering an apology, talking about being friends and how nice I was. I’d done everything right. Momma said that as long as I was a gentleman, everything would work out just fine, not to be nervous. I told Elaine that I really liked her, that I wanted to be with her but she ignored me. She said that she should get me home ‘cause she had to work tomorrow. She started walking toward the driver’s side so I followed her.

I followed her and I slammed her head into the corner of the door frame. Then I slammed the door onto her head. I threw her body into the back of the truck and took her keys and drove myself back home. Momma met me at the door and I tearfully told her what had happened, that I had even given her all the snacks during the movie, the snacks made with love. I pointed back at the truck and momma nodded sadly and told me to go inside and wash the blood off.

That’s why, when they asked me what I wanted my last meal to be, I said Momma’s home cookin’.