Confectionately Yours #4: Something New

by Lisa Papademetriou

  “When you put it that way …”

  “If I’m going to spend a great deal of money on something, it will be your education, Hayley dear. Yours and Chloe’s. Or perhaps a house for your mother. But I’ve already had a beautiful wedding, and I don’t need another. This certainly isn’t my ‘princess dreams come true,’” she adds, pointing to the headline on one of the brochures. She scoffs, obviously revolted by the very idea. “Of course, I don’t know how to tell your mother all of that.”

  “Do you think she’ll mind?”

  “Hayley — did you know that your father and mother eloped?”

  “Sure.”

  “They never had a proper wedding, and I think — well, it’s just superstition, of course. But the divorce is so fresh in her mind….” Gran leans forward to place her hand on mine. “I do think your mother wants the wedding done properly, if you see what I’m saying.”

  “Oh.”

  “And she’s gone to such effort.” Gran’s voice is full of regret.

  “True.” I think this over for a moment. “Do you think it will be better to wait until she books the caterers, and then tell her that you don’t want the wedding? Or maybe after it’s all over?”

  Gran closes her eyes and chuckles softly. When she opens them again, they’re as brilliant as diamonds. “I think, perhaps, sooner is better than later.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Gran gives me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll tell her soon, darling. Thank you.”

  “Sleep well,” I say, and I pad down the hallway to the bedroom I share with Chloe. My sister is on her bed, snuggling with Tessie.

  “She can’t sleep in here,” I say to Chloe.

  “Why not?”

  “Because she wakes me up at five in the morning when she sleeps in here,” I say. “Besides, that’s why we have her dog bed in the living room, remember?”

  Chloe pouts.

  “Don’t give me the big dog eyes,” I implore. “You, either,” I say to the dog, but neither one of them stops.

  “Mom says Tessie has to go back to the shelter this weekend.” Chloe is begging, her eyes filling with tears.

  Rip my heart out. “Oh, Chlo.” I use my gentlest voice and sit down on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not,” she mutters, and I’m silent for a moment. Well, I’m not that sorry. But I am a little sorry. I pet Tessie’s silky ears.

  “We knew she would have to go back someday,” I say.

  Chloe kisses Tessie’s face, and the dog licks her face.

  “She can sleep in here,” I say, because I’m not really a horrible person.

  I swear, that dog does not understand “sit” or “stay,” but she seems to understand the entire sentence I just uttered, because she goes and curls herself up into a doughnut at the end of Chloe’s bed. Chloe leans back against her pillow, and I head over to my own bed.

  “Good night, Chloe,” I say as I click off the light.

  My little sister just rolls over, so that her back is to me.

  It isn’t easy when someone you love is angry with you.

  But I can’t always make everything perfect for everyone.

  Can I?

  “Stop!” I say. “Too much! Too much!” I’m at the beach, where a dolphin is trying to touch noses. But I don’t want to get my face wet. Chloe begs the dolphin to come to her, but it only wants me, and I can’t get it to leave me alone….

  I open my eyes to darkness. The sunny beach disappears, and I realize that I’m at home, in my room. It’s the middle of the night.

  But my face is wet.

  “Stop!” I say as Tessie licks my eyeball. “Ew!”

  She whines and races to the door, then rushes back again.

  “Chloe,” I groan. “Your dog wants to go out.”

  Chloe doesn’t move or make a sound. I’m telling you, that girl sleeps like a brick. Even in my groggy state, I realize that waking her up is going to be more trouble than just letting the dog out of the room, so I go to the door and open it.

  Tessie races through it, skids to a stop at the end of the hallway, and then races back to me, expectantly. “Oh, ugh, do you want to go outside?” I ask her. “Now?”

  She whines and jumps up on my leg, and I’m just about to turn around and go make Chloe take the dog out when the smell of smoke hits my nose.

  “Is that — Ohmigosh!” Suddenly, I’m so awake that my body takes off before my brain even has time to catch up. “Chloe! Chloe! Wake up! There’s a fire!”

  “Mraf?” Chloe mumbles.

  I shake her. “Fire! Chloe! Get up!”

  “What?” She sits straight up. “Are you —” Then she must smell it, too, because she tosses back her covers and jumps out of bed.

  I’m already running down with the hall with Tessie prancing at my ankles as Mom comes out of her bedroom, pulling on a robe. “Hayley?”

  “Mom, there’s a fire!” I dash into Gran’s room. “Gran! Smoke.”

  Gran gets up, calm as can be. “Thank you, dear,” she says.

  “Mother!” Mom races into Gran’s bedroom. “We’ve got to hurry!”

  “Yes, dear, of course,” Gran says, putting on her slippers.

  “Mother, there’s no time for that!” Mom insists, but Gran just says that she’s not about to risk getting a cold, and then she goes to her closet and pulls out a box. “Mother!” Mom cries. “What are you doing? What is that? Leave it!”

  “Absolutely not,” Gran says. “It’s important documents and a photo album.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” Chloe wails as Tessie runs around her in a circle, like a herding dog.

  “All right, all right,” Gran says, and we all grab our coats and boots and hurry down the back stairs — Tessie leading the way.

  The moment we open the door, we’re smacked with the sound of a blaring horn mingled with a wailing siren. Red lights flicker against the brick walls as we hurry around the block, to the front of the Tea Room.

  “It’s the flower shop!” Chloe cries, and she’s right — some of the firefighters are pointing a hose at Malik’s Fine Flowers. But the real fire is next door, at the new Mexican restaurant.

  “Oh, my —” My voice is strangled, and it’s hard to breathe. The air is thick with smoke; a black cloud pours into the gray sky. It’s amazing — it’s a cool spring night, but you wouldn’t know it. It’s like standing before a massive bonfire — my hair rises in the heat. We all watch, stunned, as a group of firefighters aim a hose at the flaming windows.

  The image blurs as my eyes fill. The flower shop! And what about our home? What about the café?

  “Get back!” one of the firefighters shouts at us, and we retreat a few steps.

  “Umer always said the venting wasn’t done properly,” Gran murmurs. “Oh, how horrible!” She puts a hand over her mouth.

  Another fire truck pulls up. Then another. Now the whole street is flickering in the red lights. With their helmets and jackets and gear, all the firefighters look alike, and the street seems to be swarming with them. Northampton doesn’t have this many trucks — they must be coming from nearby towns. People have come out of their homes to watch.

  Mom stops a firefighter who is hurrying past. “Excuse me,” she says quickly. “Will the surrounding buildings be all right?”

  “It looks like the fire’s contained for now, ma’am,” he says, and I feel us all sink with relief. “But I wouldn’t head inside, if that’s what you were thinking.”

  “That is not what she was thinking,” Gran assures him before he hurries off. “Absolutely not!”

  “At least there aren’t any apartments above the stores,” Mom says, pulling Gran close. Our building has apartments, but there’s a tattoo parlor over the flower shop and a dance studio over the restaurant. Nobody is ever inside those buildings in the middle of the night. “I hope no one was hurt.”

  “And we’re okay,” I add. I reach for Chloe’s hand, and we lace
our fingers together. She snuggles against me, and then leans down to pat the dog.

  “Tessie saved us!” Chloe crows.

  We all stare at the dog, who is standing there, tail wagging.

  Mom puts a hand to her forehead. “I think I need to sit down,” she says.

  And at the word sit, Tessie does.

  Can you believe that?

  “Good dog,” Chloe says. She kneels down and hugs Tessie, who goes mad licking her face. “Good, good dog! Best dog!”

  I really can’t disagree with her there.

  Cons:

  • Pees on posters

  • Chews sweaters

  • Fur on everything

  • Dog breath

  • Poop bags

  • Slobber

  • Has to go for a walk, even when hail is falling from the sky like it’s Armageddon

  • Doesn’t speak English

  Pros:

  • Saved us from a fire

  • Best dog ever

  I don’t think that dog is going anywhere.

  “It still smells a bit smoky in here,” Mom says as she opens the window at the end of the living room. “Ugh, now that’s making it worse.” She shuts it again.

  It’s six in the morning. The firefighters worked for three hours to put out the blaze. When it was over, the restaurant was pretty much a smoking ruin. The whole street stinks of smoke.

  “Never mind,” Gran says, crossing to the back window. “We’re very lucky, and this will all air out quickly.”

  The doorbell rings, and Mom pulls it open to reveal a very worried-looking Mr. Malik. “Esther!” he cries. “Oh, thank heavens you’re all right!”

  He hurries to my grandmother and gives her a warm hug.

  Gran looks a little embarrassed. She’s still wearing her overcoat and her nightgown, and she doesn’t like to be caught looking so rumpled. She smooths a hand over her hair, which doesn’t really have any effect, except to kind of switch the messy part from the right to the left. But she’s smiling up at him, and he’s smiling down at her, and it’s pretty cute, actually.

  “But the flower shop!” Chloe cries.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, Chloe dear,” Mr. Malik tells her. “I have insurance.” He takes both of Gran’s hands and squeezes them. Then he looks around at all of us. “Everything I truly care about is unharmed.”

  Mom makes him sit down on the couch and then offers everyone some tea. I go to the kitchen and put a few leftover cupcakes onto a plate. Why not, right? I mean, a cupcake is just a muffin with frosting, and it’s after six in the morning. Breakfast.

  When I come back into the living room, Mr. Malik is saying, “Yes, yes. It’s true. This will be very hard on the business, I’m afraid.” He turns to me. “Oh, thank you, Hayley, these look lovely. I will take one, thank you very much.” He looks at Gran very seriously. “My dear, I’m afraid I have something very difficult to tell you.”

  “Yes?” she asks.

  “Well, I’m afraid that the wedding will have to be put off for a while,” he admits. “You know, these insurance companies can take a while with the payments, and the flower shop will have to be renovated. The café wasn’t harmed, was it?”

  “Just a bit of smoke damage,” Gran tells him. “Nothing worth speaking of. I might have to replace a few chairs.”

  “Well, the flower shop will need quite a bit of work, which means that I think our wedding will have to be … postponed, you see. There simply isn’t time to plan much.”

  Gran’s eyebrows fly up, and she glances over at me.

  “I hope you aren’t terribly disappointed,” Mr. Malik says.

  Gran smiles a smile that reaches up to her eyes, which sparkle like stars. “The blessing of a tragedy,” she tells him, “is that it puts your life into perspective.”

  “Yes,” he agrees. “It makes it easy to remember what’s important. Don’t you agree, Hayley?”

  I look at Chloe, who is cuddling Tessie on the couch. My mother comes in with a tray loaded with teacups and a teapot. She’s rumpled and tired and her hair is sticking out madly, but she still looks beautiful to me. The soft light gathers at the window, illuminating the room — the carpet with the torn corner, the couch with the hole at the arm, the nicked coffee table — making it look cozy. I love everyone in this room.

  I love them so much.

  “I think we’re very lucky,” I say, and everyone agrees.

  And then we all have cupcakes for breakfast.

  “Come on!” Chloe shouts as she hurries ahead, leaping from one railroad tie to another. We’re hiking a trail with Dad and Annie, and this part is a little marshy. The railroad ties serve as a makeshift bridge through the spring muck. Above us, the trees are still stark, but small fiddleheads are uncurling at their feet. The air is chilly but not uncomfortable as we walk. “I see a lady’s slipper!” Chloe shouts over her shoulder.

  Annie hurries to catch up with Chloe, and they trek off the path a bit on the other side of the marsh. Dead leaves and sticks crash at every footstep.

  Dad and I don’t rush. We just pick our way slowly after them.

  “How’s your Gran?” Dad asks. “Is everything all right after the fire?”

  “It’s fine,” I tell him. “There wasn’t much damage at all.” I explain about Mr. Malik’s shop, though, and Dad says it’s too bad.

  We’re quiet for a few moments, and finally I know that if I don’t say it now, I never will. “Dad,” I say slowly, “I don’t want to go to Islip Academy.”

  He’s silent for a moment. I think I really surprised him. “Why not?”

  “I just — don’t. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “But it’s such a good school,” Dad says. “They’re grooming the leaders of tomorrow!” That’s right out of the catalog, by the way.

  “But what if I don’t want to be a leader of tomorrow?” I ask him. “What if I just want to be a normal kid of today?”

  Dad steps off the railroad tie and down onto solid earth. The path winds ahead of us, disappearing into the woods. It makes me think of this poem I read once, by Robert Frost. It’s about two paths in the woods, and choosing which one to walk on. I guess a lot of stuff in life is like that. You have to make choices. And for everything you choose, there’s stuff you give up.

  And there’s stuff you gain.

  “They have a great science program.” Dad is still talking about Islip Academy. “And the arts.”

  “Dad, I know. It’s fancier, that’s for sure. But I have really great teachers, and I think that’s the most important thing. Besides, baking cupcakes is my favorite extracurricular activity. I don’t want to give that up to do photography, or Irish step dancing, or whatever.”

  “But Irish step dancing is beautiful,” Dad argues.

  “I know, Dad, but —”

  “Hayley, I’m teasing you.” Dad takes my hand. “I mean, I do like Irish step dancing. But you shouldn’t do it if you don’t want to. And I’m not going to make you go to school anywhere you really don’t want to go. I just want you to get a good education.”

  “I’m getting a good education. In fact, Señor Derby has already started us on ninth-grade Spanish.” And then, before I can stop myself, I say, “Which costs one hundred thirty dollars, by the way.”

  Dad nods. “Right,” he says, as if the memory has been lurking at the back of his mind, and suddenly jumped out at him. “Right — I think your mom mentioned it.”

  I want to say that I know she did, but I don’t.

  “I think I owe her for the dentist, too,” Dad adds.

  “You should talk to her about it, maybe,” I suggest.

  There’s a crash and an ouch! and then Annie appears, followed by Chloe, who races past her and back onto the trail. “We found a whole bunch of lady’s slippers!” Chloe cries.

  “I had never seen one before!” Annie exclaims. “They’re so pretty!” She’s looking very dressed down in yoga pants, a short parka, and bright blue running s
hoes. I remember the first time we went apple picking with Annie. She wore high heels that got stuck in the mud. She’s come a long way since then.

  “Come on,” Chloe urges as she plunges back into the woods, “I’ll show you where they are! Not far!”

  Dad puts his hand on my shoulder and we start after Annie and Chloe, leaving the beaten path behind us.

  When I was eight years old, I bought my father a tiepin for his birthday. It was gold — well, gold-plated, anyway — and shaped like a duck. I had wanted to get him something nice, and I had saved my allowance for over a month to get it. When he opened it, he said, “Why a duck?”

  I told him that it was because I thought it was cute. And my father said, “A gift should really show that you put some time into thinking about what the person would like.”

  That was all he said.

  And I never saw him wear the tiepin.

  Here is the thing about my dad: He isn’t a bad person. Not really. He just acts like it sometimes. He doesn’t always seem to get how other people might feel about the stuff he says and does.

  You have to take the time to explain things to him. But if you do that, he can usually get it. And when he gets it, he makes up for it.

  Some people get it quicker. But I guess what really matters is that he gets it in the end.

  Honey-Sesame Cupcakes

  (makes approximately 12 cupcakes)

  Have you ever had those little sesame candies that they sell in Asian food stores? I love them! These are inspired by their subtle, almost caramely flavor.

  INGREDIENTS:

  1/2 cup white sesame seeds

  1-1/4 cups gluten-free flour

  3/4 teaspoon baking powder

  1/2 teaspoon baking soda

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  3/4 cup milk

  3/4 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

  3/4 cup honey

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  1/3 cup canola oil

  2 tablespoons black sesame seeds

  INSTRUCTIONS:

  Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a muffin pan with cupcake liners.