Can I have some Brown Sugar for my Damper? Chapter 5.

Chapter 5

It takes me awhile to get myself under control under Rudy’s watch he did set me down in a lawn chair and he got me a cup of the pretty decent coffee he had made for breakfast and I sipped at it while getting to watch him work and actually just kind of let this place sink in and sort of displace some of the stuff that’s been built up inside.

It’s kind of like sitting here sipping my coffee let me see where I’m at. Brisbane, Australia…so far removed from where I’d been living and so much cleaner feeling than what I had left. There’s a handsome guy working and measuring and cutting boards…and while he’s really, really damned fine to look at he’s fed me breakfast, made me coffee and held me and been right there for me when I broke down and cried.

Canadians are a pretty friendly bunch depending on where you go but so far everyone I’ve met since getting off the plane has been on the upper side of really nice.

I swear if Rudy’s what the men are like down here in this part of the world I’m going to be definitely exploring my het side. That’s also another thing, Rudy knows I’m a transwomen and it’s just no big thing to him.

Just watching him but even just having my feet in my grass in my back yard and looking at the different bushes and plants that sort of make the border of my yard it’s so different. It’s different enough to help me shake this round of tears.

Heck I even lean back in the lawn chair and take in some sun. Tanning outside of a tanning salon isn’t really something that you get to do a whole lot of when you live right downtown in Montreal. Maybe if I had a flat roof on my old place but I didn’t so I really didn’t tan a whole lot. I actually never got to sit in the sun and just soak in the heat and everything as a woman.

I haven’t actually sat like this in a nice yard and soaking in some sunshine while I’m doing little toe scrunches in the grass for a long time. Not since I was back in school and still a guy.

I haven’t done a lot of things like this in a long time. Somethings never…or not yet like this. I want to though, I sort of feel even though I’ve started my transition that I’ve missed out a lot on the things that I’ve always wanted to do. Even if I’m not really sure what those are?

After about three quarters of an hour I get up and kill the last bits of the cold coffee. “Thanks Rudy this really helped.”

“Hey, no worries eh, anyone’d do the same.”

I sort of fold my arms a bit. “You don’t actually talk like that all the time do you?”

He smiles at me making me feel that tingle of that handsome, strong, clean-cutness he has. “No Morgan it I though a bit of the old stuff would leave a bit of an impression is all.”

“You already have made a good impression on me Rudy.”

“Oh it was just a bit of fun for the new Sheila is all.”

“Okay.” I start heading back inside the house. “Rudy?”

“Yeh, Luv?”

I almost roll my eyes at him but I can’t stop the smile. “No, not everyone would do the same.”

I head inside and while I’m no where skilled in that whole attracting a man thing there’s a sway to my walk I can’t really just explain there this time and I can feel him watching me go.

Damn a guy like that is pretty good for the heart right now and my ego.

I head upstairs and I get a shower since most of the stuff upstairs is working well and I get dressed in a pair of cut off jean shorts no not the Daisy Duke things and a scoop necked tee-shirt and I start to go through things upstairs. There’s a lot of Matt’s stuff here and I start to go through it all deciding what to keep and what not to there’s quite a bit there and I stop after about an hour when I hear more voices and look out the window to see to black guys working with Rudy.

I’m a bit embarrassed at how ignorant I caught myself when my first though was Aborigine people but after hearing them talking I’m pretty sure these two guys are out of Africa…maybe Senegal?

There’s some more North America stupid. I’m an immigrant myself but I just assumed that all the blacks down here would be Aboriginals. I’m only glad I wasn’t down there to have the chance to shove my foot in my mouth.

I do slip down after another hour and take a cab to the closest local supermarket. I’ve no idea what that’s going to be like but my main reason for going is to beg for some boxes to put things into and get some garbage/rubbish bags for the same thing too.

Actually thet whole thing is a lot less intimidating than I thought that it would be with only these days the major differences are the brand names of things. I just have to read the labels a bit more carefully but it’s sort of the same as when I first moved to Montreal.

Oh there’s some differences like meats, they serve a lot more stuff from the animal here than I’m used to in a grocery store their meat section is a lot more like a butcher shop. Two there’s a lot more lamb here on sale that I’m used to at all. And there’s a lot of sausages here too.

Lucky for me I like lamb and I get a couple of trays of pre-cut chops for the grill and ask the girl there for a suggestion as to what her favorite marinade for them’d be. Turns out that they mostly stick with some pretty basic flavors. Salt and pepper, good olive oil and some herbs. I get a few potatoes to roast too and some bread and some lemons and a bunch of things that I just want to have in the house for now and a lot of cleaning supplies.

I get a cheap pair of flip-flops too just because they were in a bin near the cashes and they called them thongs.

I get chatted up a lot. I’m not sure if it’s my looks but it’s almost certainly my accent. I’ve got a bit of Quebec styled…well Montreal french just ground into me after all the years that I had lived there even though I was raised in an English speaking household and community. It’s true you start living in someplace long enough you pick it up even though you will still sound a bit off to the locals.

I wonder if I’ll pick up the Aussie accent here after a few years.

Turns out that they deliver too and the young guy that delivers the groceries is nice enough to save me the cost of cab fare home. He asks a lot of just general questions as we drive like what home’s like and if I’ve ever met Anne Murray or Celine Dion. “I’ve never met Anne Murray but I have met Celine Dion twice actually long before she became famous.” Which got me the first look I’d gotten from Simon that wasn’t fixed on my breasts.

I smile at him knowing that I kind of dated myself but likely he doesn’t know enough about Celine to really get a handle on my age. It’s kind of sort of nice that I’m getting those looks from a young guy like him. I don’t even mind him staring at my breasts either. While I’m still new to this life I’m no fresh face teenager either and I can take it and the nice looking tent in his cargo pants for the compliment that it is.

I do give him a fiver as a tip though when he carries it all inside for me.

Rudy and the two guys are cleaning out the basement with buckets and shovels and are getting quite dirty and sweaty looking so the first thing I do is find the fridge which is in my garage/car-port thing and I get a pitcher and stuff and I make a tall cool pitcher of homemade lemonade. I needed the stove anyway to par-boil my potatoes and the trick to a really great lemonade is making bar syrup for it. That’s just equal parts water and sugar but it does make a difference. And I use some of the lemon zest grated over the ice cubes even before I stir up the lemonade.

Rudy and the guys are actually pretty happy for the ice cold drink and I tell them that I’ll get lunch on.

He looks at me. “Morgan you don’t have to cook for us, we’ve packed lunches.”

“Well, okay but where I was raised if you had a bunch of people around your place working on your house or whatever you fed them.”

“We’re getting paid.”

“That never mattered back home, my mom’d always have a little something for the guys that’d be working around home.”

He smiles at me and I swear I’ve never felt chemistry between myself and someone else like this before.

“Alright then, we’ll eat I’d never want to insult your mother then. So what are we having?”

“Grilled Lamb chops with mushrooms and potatoes sound alright?”

“Sounds like a feast really, I’m looking forward to you cooking our lamb and seeing how you Canadians cook it.”

“Oh great then no pressure.”

“Naw, the pressure’d be on though if you were doing steaks.”

“Steaks.”

“Yeh, Australia’s cattle country all over luv, we take a cut of beef down here pretty seriously.”

“Well then the first time that steak’s going to be cooked here then you can do it so I can learn the right way to cook it then.”

“What me…and miss out on all that fancy french cookery you’ve got?”

“Me, huh…I’m from Montreal Rudy, professional ladies don’t cook in Montreal we go out to eat or we order it in. I’ve a fifth degree black belt in menu-fu.”

“And you’re cooking dinner now after saying that.”

“Yes, yes I am and I can cook. I had to when I was single and when I was going through school. I’m a bit rusty though maybe.”

“Well I’m sure it’ll be some good eats.”

I head off to get started cooking. Oh and the two black guys are Martin and Geoffrey and both are from Sierra Leone and are two young fellows that have been here since they were twelve and are being builders helpers to pay their way into trade school.

I go pretty basic. Salt and lots of black pepper on the chops while they’re in a bowl. Then some of the lemon juice and the zest and then some minced garlic and fresh rosemary. I let it set a few minutes to get the flavors going and then add the olive oil. Always add that last because if it’s first then some of the other flavors are blocked from getting into the meat.

I just halfway cook the potatoes then I quarter them lengthwise and add salt, pepper some chives and some real butter…okay a lot of real butter and wrap the whole thing in foil.

The mushrooms get sliced lengthwise but get the same treatment. And I find some tomatoes in the fridge and a cucumber to slice up for some fresh stuff on the plate.

I cook one chop first to get an idea of how long I should cook it because you just don’t do it justice to over cook lamb I’ve had it enough to know that and I’m not going to just give it some char either so a test piece is the thing.

I’m actually kind of feeling my woman power at full shine when I’ve got a sheet out as a table cloth over a sheet of plywood and two saw benches and the guys are really devouring the food. It doesn’t matter that we’re sitting on stacked milk crates and lawn chairs it’s just a good meal like my mom would have set out.

It still hurts that I don’t really have contact with the rest of my family but the stuff I learned or seen as a kid is still with me.

I get myself a second chop before their all gone and some slice tomato and talk with the guys about how best to go about learning my way around here as we eat.

Desert was canned peaches with whipped cream over the rest of the damper that was left like a sort of shortcake.

Like I said I really felt this whole sort of surge of woman power when all three guys thank me and all three of them kiss me on the cheek for it before heading back to work.

It was the first time anything like that had every happened.

Right smiling but more work and the dishes.