A story of Baklava

George was a shy man. He’d never ventured into the wilderness. He’d never taken a bunch of drugs with his pals. In high school, he simply went to high school. No sports, no extracurriculars. He just went and came back. Every day, coming and going. Like the breeze in the wind, everyone just let him fly by. He was effectively a ghost. He never made a name for himself, never did anything to stand out.

And he was content with that, because he had other things on his mind. And, to George, real life is within the mind. He was a successful man his entire life, in his mind.

In college, Myles studied business. He went about his days the same way he did in high school. He went to class, and came back. And so on and so forth. He never built a relationship with anybody. Not even his roommate freshman year could get a word out of him.

By the time he was 27, George had become a wealthy businessman. He’d perfected the art of buying and selling stock. It’s a job that doesn’t require leaving the house, doesn’t require any real communication with anyone, and so, George was living a pretty fulfilling life.

Each night, George would create a meal for himself. Cooking was his vice. He’d become a master chef over the years of living alone. He loved every bit of it. The high heats, the sizzling of steak on a pan, the aromas, rolling dough; he loved it all. Each and every night was something different. Yes, George was a simple man, but happy nonetheless.

Karla was the exact opposite. In school, she was the flame that kept on burning. She once got suspended for clogging every single toilet in the girls’ locker room with old pairs of shoes that she’d never thrown out because she thought it’d be funny. Another time, she even told her teacher that she was going to punch them in the face for telling her she got a math problem wrong. She was suspended for that too.

School wasn’t exactly her thing. And grades never really went in her favor. Karla was beautiful, though. She had a spice about her that most men could never ignore. And beyond her nonsensical violence and odd mannerisms, she was a kind-hearted girl. That’s what got her by, mostly.

She never went to college. Her parents didn’t want to put up with her failures any longer. So she began to work in a restaurant; her father knew the owner and got her a job as a food-runner.

For seven years she worked there. Without complaints, she brought food from table to table and the empty plates back to the kitchen. She’d never been promoted to waitress; her foul mouth was too casual.

When she turned 26, though, her boss decided to give her a new opportunity.

“Janet just left,” Boss man said. “I need someone new to go buy the groceries for me now; you interested?”

“Fuck yea!” Karla said.

So, the Boss gave Karla a list of over 50 items to go and pick up from the market. Each and every day she’d have to do this--no more food running.

One day in Stop & Shop, George laid eyes on a beautiful woman and her extremely filled shopping cart. It was Karla. He didn’t think much of it, like he didn’t most things, so he just trolleyed along.

The next day, George saw the same women, with the same big shopping cart, and he thought to himself, “Whoa this woman must have a big family.”

Weeks went by. Karla had become very proficient at her new work. George remained the same. George continued to see Karla around the grocery, but never thought much of it. Karla never noticed a simpleton like George.

Then, on one magical day, it was the 23^rd of August, George and Karla found themselves in the same aisle at Stop & Shop. It was the nut aisle. Karla looked over at this man a few feet away, and she saw his blank face putting a few bags of peanuts, pine nuts, almonds, walnuts and pistachios into his cart.

“So you like fuckin’ nuts do ya?” Karla said.

George looked around, bewildered. “Excuse me?” he said.

“I was just wondering if you think you have enough nuts in your chariot.”

George was so confused. Why was this woman who he’d been able to avoid for months talking to him?

“Ma’am, I believe that’s not your business,” he said. “But if I had to elaborate, ma’am, I’m making Baklava.”

Karla was looking into this weirdo’s face and could tell he doesn’t get out much. She was pleased to mess around with him.

“Did you say there’s something wrong with your back?” Karla said.

George spoke up a bit. “No, ma’am, baklava. It’s a dessert pastry that’s quite delicious. I need nuts to make it. If you just wouldn’t mind letting me be, I could go on my way and you could go on yours.”

“Back Lava, huh. Where you from, Irania or something?” Karla asked.

“Ma’am, that isn’t even a place. Now please, go away.”

This may not seem like it was going anywhere, but, amazingly, Karla was fascinated by the man. Something about him was different. She especially liked how he didn’t want to talk to her, and that kind of challenge is the kind she’s interested in.

“Now wait a minute,” she said. “I’ve been working for a restaurant for eight years now and I don’t know a lick of cooking. Now, I’m tryna eat some God damn Back Lava. Do you think I could join you?”

“Listen, ma’am. I’m more a solitary man, and you’re a rather disgusting woman, so I’d rather not.”

“But, say now, I think you can warm up to me. I wanna learn how to cook, and you seem to know a shit or two. Now, lemme learn witcha.”

George had no choice. No one in his life had ever even spoken to him this much, nonetheless want to talk to him more.

“Ahh heck, why not,” George said. “Alright, meet me at my car and we can cook together tonight.”

And, wouldn’t you know it; Karla had a knack for cooking. She was the ying to Georges yang. The baklava came out delicious and the two cooks got along splendidly in the kitchen. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between two mismatched people and it all worked out. Their lives perfectly intertwined and from then on, they cooked together each night. Just like George had always done, except now, with a crazy partner.

George became a little more outgoing, and Karla became a little more mature. The End.