Claire Cook - Seven Year Switch

I SAILED INTO THE COMMUNITY CENTER JUST IN TIME TO take my Lunch Around the World class to China. I hated to be late, but my daughter, Anastasia, had forgotten part of her school project.

Oh, honey, Id said when she called from the school office. Cant it wait till tomorrow? Im just leaving for work. I tried not to wallow in it, but sometimes the logistics of being a single mom were pretty exhausting.

Mom, she whispered, its a diorama of a cows habitat, and I forgot the cow .

I remembered seeing the small plastic cow grazing next to Anastasias cereal bowl at breakfast, but how it had meandered into the dishwasher was anyones guess. I gave it a quick rinse under the faucet and let it air-dry on the ride to school. From there I hightailed it to the community center.

Though it wasnt the most challenging part of my work week, this Monday noon-to-two-oclock class got me home before my daughter, which in the dictionary of my life made it the best kind of gig. Sometimes I even had time for a cup of tea before her school bus came rolling down the street. Who knew a cup of tea could be the most decadent part of your day.

I plopped my supplies on the kitchen counter and jumped right in. In Chinese cooking, its important to balance colors as well as contrasts in tastes and textures.

Take a deep breath, honey, one of my favorite students said. Her name was Ethel, and she had bright orange lips and I Love Lucy hair. Were not going anywhere.

A man with white hair and matching eyebrows started singing On a Slow Boat to China. A couple of the women giggled. I took that deep breath.

Yum cha is one of the best ways to experience this, I continued. Literally, yum cha means drinking tea, but it actually encompasses both the tea drinking and the eating of dim sum, a wide range of light dishes served in small portions.

Yum-yum, a man named Tom said. His thick glasses were smudged with fingerprints, and he was wearing a T-shirt that said TUNE IN TOMORROW FOR A DIFFERENT SHIRT .

Lets hope, I said. In any case, dim sum has many translations: small eats, of course, but also hearts delight, to touch your heart, and even small piece of heart. Ive often wondered if Janis Joplin decided to sing the song she made famous after a dim sum experience.

Last night when I was planning my lesson, this had seemed like a brilliant and totally original cross-cultural connection, but everybody just nodded politely.

We made dumplings and pot stickers and mini spring rolls, and then we moved on to fortune cookies. Custard tarts or even mango pudding would have been more culturally accurate, but fortune cookies were always a crowd-pleaser. I explained that the crispy, sage-laced cookies had actually been invented in San Francisco, and tried to justify my choice by adding that the original inspiration for fortune cookies possibly dated back to the thirteenth century, when Chinese soldiers slipped rice paper messages into mooncakes to help coordinate their defense against Mongolian invaders.

Last night Anastasia had helped me cut small strips of white paper to write the fortunes on. And because the cookies had to be wrapped around the paper as soon as they came out of the oven, while they were still pliable, Id bought packages of white cotton gloves at CVS and handed out one to each person. The single gloves kept the students hands from burning and were less awkward than using pot holders.

They also made the class look like aging Michael Jackson impersonators. A couple of the women started to sing Beat It while they stirred the batter, and then everybody else joined in. There wasnt a decent singer in the group, but some of them could still remember how to moonwalk.

After we finished packing up some to take home, wed each placed one of our cookies in a big bamboo salad bowl. Thered been more giggling as we passed the bowl around the long, wobbly wooden table and took turns choosing a cookie and reading the fortune, written by an anonymous classmate, out loud.

The time is right to make new friends.

A great adventure is in your near future.

A tall dark-haired man will come into your life.

You will step on the soil of many countries, so dont forget to pack clean socks.

The one you love is closer than you think, Ethel read. Her black velour sweat suit was dusted with flour.

Oo-ooh, the two friends taking the class with her said. One of them elbowed her.

The fortune cookies were a hit. So what if my students seemed more interested in the food than in its cultural origins. I wondered if theyd still have signed up if Id shortened the name of the class from Lunch Around the World to just plain Lunch. My class had been growing all session, and not a single person had asked for a refund. In this economy, everybody was cutting everything, and even community center classes werent immune. The best way to stay off the chopping block was to keep your classes full and your students happy.

I reached over and picked up the final fortune cookie, then looked at my watch. Oops, I said. Looks like were out of time. I stood and smiled at the group. Okay, everybody, thats it for today. I nodded at the take-out cartons Id talked the guy at the Imperial Dragon into donating to the cause. Dont forget your cookies, and remember, next week well be lunching in Mexico. I took care to pronounce it Mehico .

Tacos? T-shirt Tom asked.

Youll have to wait and see-eee, I said, mostly because I hadnt begun to think about next week. Surviving this one was enough of a challenge.

Not even a hint? a woman named Donna said.

I shook my head and smiled some more.

They took their time saying thanks and see you next week as they grabbed their take-out boxes by the metal handles and headed out the door. A few even offered to help me pack up, but I said I was all set. It was faster to do it myself.

As I gave the counters a final scrub, I reviewed the days class in my head. Overall, I thought it had gone well, but I still didnt understand why the Janis Joplin reference had fallen flat.

I put the sponge down, picked up a wooden spoon, and got ready to belt out Piece of My Heart.

When I opened my mouth, a chill danced the full length of my spine. I looked up. A man was standing just outside the doorway. He had dark, wavy hair cascading almost to his shoulders and pale, freckled skin. He was tall and a little too thin. His long fingers gripped the doorframe, as if a strong wind might blow him back down the hallway.

He was wearing faded jeans and the deep green embroidered Guatemalan shirt Id given my husband just before he abandoned us seven years ago.

No. Way.

Id dreamed this scene a thousand times, played it out hundreds of different ways.

Id kissed him and killed him over and over and over again, violently and passionately, and at every emotional stop in between.

Jill? he said.

My mouth didnt seem to be working. Thats my name, dont wear it out popped into my head randomly, as if to prove my brain wasnt firing on all cylinders either.

Can I talk to you for a minute? he said.

My heart leaped into action and my hands began to shake, but other than that, I couldnt feel a thing. I remembered reading that in a fight-or-flight reaction, deep thought shuts down and more primitive responses take over.

I picked up the bowl. I gulped down some air. I measured the distance between us. I tried to imagine my feet propelling me past himout of the building, into my car, safely back home. Flight was winning by a landslide.

No, I said. Actually, you cant.

He followed me out to my car, keeping a safe distance. I clicked the lock and balanced the bowl on my left hip while I opened the door of my battered old Toyota.