by Hart, Cary
I thought we had the type of relationship where we could talk. We opened up about everything and anything. Sharing stories of our pasts, but I guess that was part of the process. Moving past Mama Ang’s death. Telling stories and healing hearts.
“Why?” I stop in the middle of the room and look around. “Why can’t I leave? Why can’t I just go downstairs where I’m in the company of the employees that work here. His friends? Why can’t I just step outside and get some fresh air? He promised me fresh air.
I’m a big girl. I can make my own decision and if it’s the wrong one, I’ll deal with the consequences. Like I have every other time. I didn’t have anyone to save me then and I don’t need anyone to save me now.
But you did.
Hand on the handle, ready to walk out the door, I let the doubt creep back in. I was saved, by Nina. Not once, but twice and Shapiro was there to pick up the pieces. They made a choice for me and how do I want to repay them? By leaving?
It’s just for a minute.
I can’t do this. I need to know that I can walk out of here without triggering an alarm. I need to breathe.
Hand on knob, I swing the door open and rush out not expecting anyone to be there.
“Shit!” A woman stands in the hallway looking between me and the contents of her purse scattered all over the floor.
I’m not sure what to do so I stand there and do nothing. I don’t offer her a hand or my name. I stand there with a deer in headlights look. Frozen.
“I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry and wasn’t paying attention,” the young woman apologizes.
I continue to stare. Silent.
“Do you live across the hall?” She tries to make conversation.
I don’t know what to do? Do I respond? Do I …
Nothing.
“Well, I just moved in a couple weeks ago.” She motions to the door behind her. “I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before, but then again, I have weird hours.” She continues to talk, and I stand there and listen.
Sticking out her hand she introduces herself. “I’m Ellie.”
I’m not sure what to do. I look down at her hand like it’s some foreign object. I’ve been stuck on the inside for so long I’m not sure if I should talk to her or just run back in and wait for Shapiro to tell me it’s okay.
“Hey,” I whisper giving her a quick wave before heading back to the apartment. Where I belong. For now.
The door closes with a thud and my adventures will have to wait for another day.
I feel myself slipping into the familiar fog that comes before a panic attack and tears burn my eyes.
Baking. I need to bake. I try to blink away the tears, but they keep coming.
With each step to the kitchen, my footsteps grow heavier, slower.
And the tears fall harder as I begin pulling out the supplies for cupcakes.
I need to bake. But I don’t want to bake. This isn’t the same as baking with Mama Ang. This isn’t dancing in the kitchen, getting lost in confection creating.
Thinking about her, how I wasn’t there … my tears turn to sobs.
What I’ve been doing is getting lost all on my own and it has nothing to do with sprinkles and frosting.
Hot angry tears streak my face as I sweep the supplies from the counter. The jar of sprinkles bounces and rolls under the table and the flour lands with a thud. No explosion of white powder or fountain of candy-coated sugar. I can’t even get mad on my own terms, make a mess to show the disaster I feel like inside.
Falling into the floor, I curl up and let the tears consume me.
I’m turning something I love into something I resent because it’s always on someone else’s terms.
After what could be hours or minutes I hear the door slam.
“What the hell?”
I hear Shapiro’s voice yelling for me.
“Penny?” Heavy footsteps get closer, but I can’t say anything. I’m empty.
“Penny! Are you here?” he roars rushing around the apartment slamming doors.
Feeling his presence, I peek open my eyes, to see him standing over me.
“Christ, Penny! What are you doing down here?” he demands pulling me into his arms and I fall into them, no fight. No struggle.
“And why the hell was the door open?” he continues, and I remain silent.
The door? I didn’t close it?
“Who was here? Are you okay? Where did you go? I’ll kill that bastard!” He keeps rattling off questions as he hoists me up onto the counter.
“I didn’t go anywhere,” I mumble. “I’m fine.”
My throat is raw from crying.
“You were gone. I’m tired of being locked away,” I continue before he can ask.
“You weren’t locked in,” he reminds me.
“Might as well have been.” I lift my eyes to look at him for the first time and I see the shame and shock flutter across his face as he takes in my rattled state. I wait for a lecture. More yelling. But it never comes.
“I’m sorry. Oh, Penny. I’m so sorry.” He holds me so tight I think I might break.
I don’t say anything at all. I don’t know what to say.
“Hey. How about this, you get cleaned up and let’s get out of here. I have something I’ve been wanting to show you.”
“Are you serious?” My stomach flutters with hope.
“Is Kool-Aid magical?” he asks.
“Yes?” I shrug.
“I’ll let that one slide,” he jokes lifting me off the counter.
I walk away before he can see just how excited I really am. I want to be angry. But right now, I’m just relieved.
Penny
It’s not at all what I expected. When he led me downstairs, I figured it was a trip to the store. Maybe a walk to get some fresh air. But I didn’t expect this. Standing in the middle of Spotlight’s commercial kitchen, I’m shocked into silence. It’s incredible. Mama Ang had a nice kitchen, but this is something else. It looks like no expense was spared.
Turning slow circles, my eyes dart from the quadruple ovens to the pair of side by side stainless refrigerators and finally resting on the endless counter of shiny metal.
I feel Shapiro’s eyes on me.
“Are you serious? I get to use all this to bake?”
“Yes, you really do.” He comes up to stand beside me. “Keeping you locked up all day, every day wasn’t fair, and I never once took it into consideration that maybe you just needed some place to go. That maybe you needed your Kool-Aid.”
“Shapiro, this means the world to me.”
I continue to walk through the kitchen, touching cool metal counters as I go.
“I have something else for you.” He smirks.
“More surprises? You really know how to spoil a girl.” I find my way over to him and hold out my hands. “Whatcha got?”
“Well, it’s just a little something that I got from Mama Ang’s lawyer.”
I drop my hands.
“Oh? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, but it did take me a while to find one of these.” Shapiro scans the room. “Shit! I forgot it in the office … just a second.”
He jogs down the hall and is back in a matter of seconds. Holding something behind his back.
“What are you hiding back there?” I stand on the tips of my toes trying to peer over his shoulder. “Come on let me see?” I beg.
“Okay fine.” He chuckles and whips a cassette player from behind his back.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“It is.” He presses the eject button and inserts the tape. “Mama Ang left you her cassette player and her baking mixed tape.”
“You mean the one she listened to every single day?”
“Lord help us.” He folds his hands together and raises them high. “It is.”
“Shapiro, how am I ever going to thank you? This means so much to me?”
Every time we baked, Mama Ang had this on. Dancing,
singing, baking … it was our thing.
“No time to get sappy, we only have the kitchen for a couple hours. Time to get to work, I’m starving.”
“Well, okay then, I don’t know what to bake first. Any suggestions?” I ask as I start to flip through recipes. “Maybe a Danish or croissant?”
“I’m sure whatever you want to make will be fine.” Shapiro tries to reassure me.
“You know what? Two hours is not a lot of time. So, muffins it is. It takes the same base. Just need to switch up …” I look over to Shapiro, as I was trying to continue, but he seems like he doesn’t even care.
“I lost you, didn’t I?” I ask. Hand on a hip and spatula in hand.
“Not a chance.”
“I have chocolate chips, blueberries, pumpkin and some others I will mix in and, of course, add a little fresh fruit and add a little crumb topping. Oh my gosh.” I clap my hands together. “This is so amazing.”
“Well, get to it.” He grins as he reaches over and smacks my backside with a rag.
I can’t help it. This right here, makes up for all the weeks of silence, for all the cancellations in Grey’s Anatomy, for the lock on the door. This. Is. Everything.
“Shapiro.” I turn to him once again.
I must let him know what this means. After everything that has happened. I need him to know.
“This means the world to me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies.
“Let me finish. Just an hour ago, I was upstairs, acting like the rug has been pulled out from under me and I didn’t know where my next breath was going to come from. But you listened to what I needed and you gave me … my Kool-Aid.”
“Well, you better hurry up and drink it because the time is ticking.” Shapiro pulls himself up on the counter and grins.
Shapiro
Penny is giving me more credit than I deserve. If I was truly paying attention, I would have arranged this weeks ago when I saw her slipping.
Instead, it took me walking, into the apartment to find Penny, curled in a ball, in the middle of the kitchen floor, losing her shit to make me realize what I’d been doing.
I did that. I’m the fucking bastard who let her get that way. Ignoring her pleas. Ignoring that kiss.
The kiss.
She remembered. She fucking remembered. I saw it in her face when she strolled out of bed. Feeling like hell and still looking beautiful.
Those eyes. Those lips.
I had to stay away from her. If I let that happen again … I would lose all resolve. Hell, I was barely hanging on as is.
I should have stayed. I should have taken her outside. Instead I kept her a prisoner. I’m no better than the man she was running from.
Fuck!
I have to let all that go and move forward. She is right. If she is going to heal, she must do it her way. On her time. I just need to make sure I give her enough room to do it. Trust goes both ways.
Now here we are. Fast forward a couple hours. Instead of seeing her curled up on the floor, she’s dancing around the kitchen to the mix tape, singing along with the music, baking the recipes that Mama Ang taught her to make and I can’t help but pull myself up on the counter sit and watch her do it all.
“Are you just going to stand over there and watch or do you want to help?”
“I think I’m good right here. I’m enjoying my view.” I wink.
She blushes.
I like it.
Seeing her like this—hair pinned to the top of her head, flour flying in the air from the professional mixer, dancing around the kitchen, singing along to the same songs that Mama Ang called her baking music—brings me back to when I was younger, standing in Mama Ang’s kitchen.
“Come here, Frances.” Mama Ang holds out her arms doing some kind of cha-cha-cha.
I hop onto the counter. “I’m good right here.” I grab an apple out of the basket. Taking a bite.
“Nonsense.” She dances her way in front of me. “How are you ever going to learn to treat a lady if you can’t even twirl her?”
She counts her steps as she dances to the music.
“It’s all in here.” She pats her chest. “Let the music become you.”
“I think I have it covered, Mama Ang.” I take the last bite and hop down. “Haven’t had a problem getting a girl yet.” I wink, throwing the core away.
“Frances Eugene, it’s not about getting a girl, it’s about keeping her.” She reaches out for my hand and pulls me to her. “Now this hand goes here.” She places one on her hip. “And this one here.” She holds out her palm for me to take it.
“Nothing weird about this at all.” I roll my eyes.
“Boy, if you roll your eyes again, Mama Ang will poke ’em right out.” She lets go only to smack my chest.
“Understood.” I bite the inside of my cheek trying to choke down a laugh.
“This is the best advice anyone is about to give you. You understand?”
I nod.
“Frances …” she scolds.
“Yes, ma’am.” I give her a tight smile.
“Twirl her till she falls in love.”
“Is this like how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop kinda thing?” I throw my head back. Amused at myself.
“One twirl, you make her smile.” Mama Ang nudges me. “Go on, dear. Twirl me.”
So I do.
“Two twirls, you make her feel like she is the only one in the room.” She gives me a stern look.
So I twirl.
“But three twirls …” Mama Ang smiles with a gleam in her eye. “Three twirls you make them dizzy.”
“You want me to make her sick?”
Palming her forehead. “No, Frances. Twirl me, dammit.”
So I do, and Mama Ang comes falling into my arms. Looking up at me like she just gave me her secret family recipe.
“Three twirls makes them dizzy with love. Waiting on you to make the forever move.”
“A kiss?”
“A kiss.”
“It’s really that simple?” I peer down at her.
“Try it someday and you will see.” She pats my chest. “Help your Mama Ang up. My back isn’t what it used to be.”
“Sure thing.” I place my hand on her lower back and help her up.
“Thank you, Frances. You were always my fav.” She giggles out as I twirl her one last time.
Smile.
“Okay, Mama Ang. Point made.”
Hearing the music, seeing Penny dance around the kitchen, in her element. Smiling. I couldn’t help but remember that time.
I’ve never tried, nor have I ever wanted to … until now.
Penny is so many things, but the one I keep coming back to, the one that scares me the most, is … home.
“Honey, ah sugar sugar.” Penny sings while she dances her way back from the oven. “You are my candy girl.”
Maybe she’s right? Maybe this is the time to try the twirl.
Hopping down off the counter I catch Penny from behind and she yelps.
“And you’ve got me wanting you.”
She relaxes as I take her by the hands, dance her around the room, singing her song with her.
“Sugar. Ah, honey honey … you are my candy girl.”
She twirls.
She smiles.
She twirls again.
And something changes. The look she is giving me begs to be twirled again … but I don’t. Not yet.
“That was so much fun! Best night EVER!” She throws her head back and screams it out.
“We better get cleaning up. Save a twirl for me.” I wink.
“Anytime.” She smiles.
Her hidden smile is like a rare gem, precious and pure … everything I’m not.
Maybe Mama Ang was right. Three twirls to forever.
Penny
“Penny! Where are you?” Shapiro calls put.
“Really?” I come padding out of the bedroom. “We are in a loft a
partment and I’m not allowed to leave soooo?” I laugh.
He cringes. “I’m sorry.”
“Seriously, it’s totally cool. After last night you could lock me up and throw away the key for all I care.”
I begin to make some coffee and notice half the muffins are gone.
Turning around with hand on hip. “Hungry much?”
Shapiro, who obviously is amused, lifts his shirt and rubs his washboard, hard as stone, abs. All of them. The full eight-pack.
“Do you think a man can pack away all those muffins and still look like this.”
I roll my eyes.
“I didn’t think so.” His shirt slides down.
“Oh Lord.” I pour myself a cup of coffee. “You want one?”
“Yes, please.” He leans against the counter.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I hand him his cup.
“Thank you.” He takes a sip before continuing, “Okay, so I have some good news.”
“That’s awesome!”
I wonder what it is. A part of me wants to just fire off what it is until I guess it right, but I don’t. I want to though. The urge is strong.
“You know that meeting I had this morning about some changes that were going to start taking place at Spotlight?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I took some of your muffins and everyone was raving about them.” Shapiro pauses grinning from ear to ear.
“Annnnnd?”
“They love them.”
I start jumping up and down. “Do they want more? I can make some tonight.” I look around the kitchen. “Do you think we could get a stand-mixer and a few supplies?”
“Penny …” he tries to finish.
“I promise as soon as we figure out Tyler’s intentions I can get a job and pay you back.”
“Penny …”
“I’ll clean up after myself. You will never know I even was here.”
“Impossible.” He smirks.
“I’m sorry.” I huff. “I know I can be messy at times.”
“No. I mean yes.” He pushes of the counter. “No, I mean I would always know you are here and yes, you can be impossible at times.” He taps my nose the same way I did when I was toasted.