The Longest Ride(54)
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “It could be the next big thing up there – people lining up all day long.”
With a tiny shake of her head, she turned to the menu again. “So 4-H, huh?”
“I started when I was a kid. Pigs.”
“What is it, exactly? I mean, I’ve heard about it, but I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s supposed to be about citizenship and responsibility and all that stuff. But when it comes to competing, it’s more about learning how to choose a good pig when it’s little. You check out its parents if you can or pictures or whatever, then you try to pick the one that you think has a chance to be a good show pig. You want a firm pig with a lot of muscle and not too much fat and no blemishes. And then, basically, you raise it for about a year. You feed it and care for it; in a way, they almost become like pets.”
“Let me guess. You named all of them Pig.”
“Actually, no. My first one was named Edith, the second one Fred, the third one was Maggie. I can go down the list if you’d like.”
“How many were there? Over the years?”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “Nine, I think. I started when I was in the third grade and I did it until junior year in high school.”
“And then, when they’re grown, where do you compete?”
“At the state fair. The judges look them over and then you find out if you won.”
“And if you win?”
“You get a ribbon. But win or lose, you still end up selling the pig,” he said.
“What happens to the pig?”
“The same thing that usually happens to pigs,” he answered. “They’re sent to the slaughterhouse.”
She blinked. “You mean you raise it from when it’s little, you name it, you care for it for a year, and then you sell it so it can be killed?”
He looked at her, his expression curious. “What else would you do with a pig?”
She was dumbfounded, unable to respond. Finally, she shook her head. “I just want you to know that I have never, ever met anyone like you before.”
“I think,” he countered, “that I could say the same thing about you.”
10
Luke
E
ven after studying the menu, he wasn’t sure what to order. He knew he could have gone with something safe – like the chicken or beef teriyaki she’d mentioned – but he was reluctant to do that. He’d heard people rave about sushi and knew he should try it. Life was about experience, wasn’t it?
The problem was that he didn’t have the slightest idea what to choose. To his mind, raw fish was raw fish, and the pictures didn’t help at all. As far as he could tell, he was supposed to order either the reddish one or the pinkish one or the whitish one, none of which hinted at how it might taste.
He peeked at Sophia over the top of his menu. She’d applied a bit more mascara and lipstick than she had on the day she’d come out to the ranch, reminding him of the night he’d first seen her. It seemed impossible that it had been less than a week ago. While generally a fan of natural beauty, he had to admit the makeup added a sophisticated touch to her features. On their way to the table, more than one man had turned to watch her pass.
“What’s the difference between nigiri-sushi and maki-sushi?” he asked.
Sophia was still perusing the menu as well. When the waitress had come by, she’d ordered two Sapporos, a Japanese beer, one for each of them. He had no idea how that would taste, either. “Nigiri means the fish is served on a pad of rice,” she said. “Maki means it’s rolled with seaweed.”
“Seaweed?”
She winked. “It’s good. You’ll like it.”
He compressed his lips, unable to hide his doubts. Beyond the windows, there were people at tables inside, enjoying whatever it was they’d ordered, all of them adept with their chopsticks. At least he was okay at that, his skills honed from eating Chinese food from thin cardboard boxes while on the road.
“Why don’t you go ahead and order for me,” he said, putting the menu aside. “I trust you.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
“What am I going to try?”
“A bunch of things,” she said. “We’ll try some anago, ahi, aji, hamachi… maybe some others.”
He lifted his bottle, about to take a sip. “You do realize that sounds like gibberish to me.”
“Anago is eel,” she clarified.
The bottle froze in midair. “Eel?”