We eat chili because we’re low on groceries
and that’s one of the reasons Kent went into town in the first
place, to restock our pantry. But there’s enough ground beef left,
and I find a can of beans in the cabinets—cut up some tomatoes from
the garden, add a blend of spices that Kent keeps in a bag marked
hot! above the fridge, serve with bread and butter. Luke
sits at the head of the table, Kent’s chair, where he sat this
morning for breakfast, and as we eat I find out more about him than
I know about my lover of two years. He loves strawberries, his
first name’s Samuel, he graduated fifth in his class at the high
school and surprised everyone by not even bothering to apply to
college.
“I just needed to get out of there,” he
tells me, dipping bread into the chili until it’s
