Hayley
One of the worst things about living in a shelter is that you can be moved at any time, to any town. Today, Everleigh and I had to leave our placement. As I unpack what little things we brought with us, I try my best to convince myself that it will all work out. Soon enough, we’ll be in our very own apartment. I’ve saved up almost enough for the deposit on a Craigslist basement. I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to my new case manager about it, but the owner seems very eager to have us move in. I don’t want to waste any time and potentially lose the opportunity.
The new shelter is very different from our old placement. It’s for women and children only, and it doesn’t look like a motel. It’s in a residential neighborhood, and unless someone told you it was a homeless shelter, you’d believe it was a regular one family home. There are four bedrooms. Each family is allotted one room, and we share a kitchen and living room area. There’s a small office on the first floor where people can sign in and out. There’s always someone there, like a worker. I’m not sure exactly what their title is, but the person there right now is dressed in sweatpants and a tee-shirt, nothing professional at all. I’m guessing she’s the case manager. I hope she knows what she’s doing.
I’m scared of sharing a space with a bunch of other homeless moms. It’s probably a good idea to go talk to them, try to be friends. I hold Everleigh and we walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. A woman is leaned over, scrambling through the fridge. I watch as she throws yogurts and fruit onto the floor. Her long black braids are pulled back into a ponytail. A phone sits on the counter top. It’s playing that new song by The Weeknd.
“Who the FUCK ate my leftovers!” she yells louder than the music. “Jada, I know damn well it was probably you!” She turns around quickly. She notices me, and grabs hold of her chest. “The fuck!” She yells. “You scared the shit out of me. Why are you tiptoeing around here all sneaky-like?”
“I—I wasn’t.”
“Oh, girl. Don’t you ever do that again, not in this house.”
“Sorry. Right. I won’t.”
I walk quickly out of the kitchen. What a great start. I hear the TV and walk toward the living room. Two toddlers lay on a stained blanket on the floor, fixated on the TV. Two women sit on a couch together. They aren’t talking at all.
“Hi,” I say, breaking the silence. The babies aren’t fazed by my presence, and neither are the women. One raises her eyebrows at me as she looks up from her cellphone. The other doesn’t look up at all.
“Did you have a good Thanksgiving?” I ask.
“What do you think?” The one with the eyebrows asks.
“I was hoping—”
“JADA! I swear to GOD!” The yelling and banging continues from the kitchen.
“I didn’t eat your MOTHER FUCKING FOOD!” The eyebrow girl screams. I jump. That was really loud and I wasn’t expecting it. I guess her name is Jada… She looks really young, younger than me. She’s very skinny and pale. She has her hair perfectly straightened and makeup done. One of her fake eyelashes pops up at the corner. Humongous gold hoops peek out from behind her long, thin, light brown hair. She picks up her cell phone again, and stares at it in an angry sort of way.
“Now where the fuck is my SNAP benefit!” Jada yells out as she smacks her phone down against her leg.
“Probably late because of the holiday,” the other woman responds. She has dark skin and short tight curls. She’s heavier than Jada, but not fat, just like normal. She’s not as done up as Jada is either, and looks much older than her too.
“I need it now! I’m not going to the church again this week. They don’t even have any of the cereals that these kids like there!”
“Tell Krista, see if she can call Food Stamps.”
“Krista?” I ask. “Is she the girl in the office?”
“We weren’t talking to you,” Jada says as she walks across the room, picks up a baby, and heads toward the kitchen. “Dumb ass bitch,” she mumbles just loud enough so I can hear.
My face flushes. I need friends desperately, but these women are definitely not it. I think I’ll just sit in my bedroom for the rest of the day. I turn around and walk toward the kitchen.
“Yeah, Krista is the lady in the office right now,” the other woman answers.
I stop walking and turn back to face her. “Oh. OK. Thanks. I’m Hayley.”
“Beth. Alright Time for lunch! If anything is left in the fridge, that is,” she laughs, but I’m scared to laugh. Beth looks away from me and over at the baby sitting on the mat.
“No!” he whines and throws himself backward, crying and smacking the ground. Beth doesn’t care. She walks over to the child, picks him up, and walks past me into the kitchen. I watch as he continues to sob and punch his mother’s back. Everleigh cries in response. I bounce up and down to console her, but I can see where this is headed. Full on fucking meltdown. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this. Just a little bit longer, right? I walk up the stairs as Everleigh screams and clutches onto my skin.
Seonaid
As I sweep the kitchen floor, I glance out the window. Lachlan was working on the lawn right outside, but now he’s disappeared. Perhaps he’s checking the crops out in the Polytunnel. I collect the dirt into the small dustpan and shake it off into the garbage pail. It’s time to start thinking about dinner, I guess. As I head toward the stove, the door opens. Lachlann stands inside holding a large basket.
“Now, who’d be sending us a gift like this?”
“That’s a gift?” I ask and step closer to him.
“Aye, I suppose. It was just left here in front of the house.” He examines the basket up and down, but no tag in sight.
“Well, put it down and let’s have a look inside of it.”
He walks through the home in his muddy boots and drops the basket down on the table. One strap of his overalls falls off of his shoulder. “I haven’t gotten around to the chicken coop yet. You can take a look at it and see who it’s from.”
I look nowhere but at the footprints left all around the floor.
“Couldn’t ye take off yer boots before walking through the house!?”
“Just clean it up, Seonaid. I’ve a lot of work to do out there.”
“I just swept the floor! Making more work for me in here!”
“I’m sorry, would you like to trade? You can clean the chicken coop, and I can do the woman’s work.”
I clench my eyes shut and shake my head. “Just get yer arse out of here, will ye?”
I hear the door close, and I know he’s gone back outside. I stare at the basket with one hand on my hip. And the other flat on the table. It’s wrapped all around in cheesecloth, which is very strange. Jesus, Mary, and St. Joseph, I hope Ceana’s ma hasn’t gone on and knit us some more scarves.
As I unwrap the basket, I’m surprised to see that it’s full of food, pudding to be exact. There’s no question of who sent this now, it must have been Taog…but why? Maybe he’s still very lonely at his store. He did say I’m the only person who’s made him feel welcome here on the island. I dig through the muffins, cream buns, and other baked goods to find a small note.
Seonaid,
The sweetest lady in all of Comhla. I hope you enjoy this gift, and I look forward to our next meeting.
Taog Glas
I push the note into my chest quickly and peer over my shoulder. I sigh in relief when I remember that Lachlann isn’t in the house. I pull the note away from my chest and look at it again, expecting the words to change. There’s no way any man could be this forward. Perhaps I’m taking this the wrong way. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, how embarrassing! Of course, he wouldn’t pursue me, even if he did take a liking to me, he knows I’m married. Even so…
I rip up the note and toss it into the garbage pail along with the dust. I don’t think Lachlann would like it, even if it is harmless.
Anyway… what was I working on before all of this? Dinner. I grab a muffin from the basket. Is it bad if I eat one of these? It would be horrible to waste all of this, no? I think it’s just fine that Lachlann and I enjoy these treats… I’ll explain to Taog in the morning that he should not send me any more gifts.
I sit and stare at the muffin for a long while, but I’m not really sure why. It’s perfect, but so baffling. I can’t tell if it’s chocolate or raisin. I don’t love raisin, but it looks delicious. I wonder how it tastes. There’s only one way to find out. As I bite into the muffin, I smile, because even though it’s raisin, I quite like it.
Peter
It’s the Sunday after Thanksgiving, one of Danny’s least favorite days. Tomorrow it’s back to school after a four-day weekend. Not only that, but Kara will be moving in as well. I prepare myself for the wave of teenage angst and attitude which lies ahead of me. However, there’s one spectacular thing about today. I don’t have to go into the bakery, I get to go to bars instead! I know it sounds suspicious, but it’s actually for work! After I dropped Allen and Danny at home last night, I went back to the bakery. I made three full sheets of cookies. Chocolate chip, double chocolate S’mores, and salted caramel toffee. I’ve scheduled a meeting with three breweries out East. They always have food trucks, why not sell fresh baked cookies as well? I think as soon as they taste them, they’ll realize how well beer pairs with dessert.
Danny walks slowly into the kitchen, back slumped over, feet dragging. He stands up straight and yawns. He burps immediately after and laughs. I can tell he doesn’t want to laugh though. He tries to make out like he’s coughing.
“Good morning,” I say as I pack one of each cookie neatly into a small box.
“More like bad morning,” he says. He sits at the kitchen table and folds his arms. He looks up at me from beneath his furrowed brow.
“All bad mornings should start with a cookie.” I pull a double chocolate s’mores from off of a tray and hand it over. I reheated some just for him. I watch as he breaks it in half and stretches the gooey marshmallow.
“Marshmallow?”
“It’s s’mores. Taste it,” I watch intently as he takes a bite. His eyes widen, and I smile almost manically.
“Stop smiling, it isn’t that good,” he says, but he licks his fingers as he finishes it. “You got any more?”
“I don’t waste cookies on people who don’t appreciate them.” I pick up a nearby spatula and point at him with it. “You just said they weren’t that good.”
“Yeah, but I’m hungry. I’d eat a shoe right now if I had to.”
“Perfect, your shoes are in the closet. Go fetch one of your gym sneakers.”
I drop the spatula and continue packing away cookies.
“Haha, so funny. You’re so freakin’ funny.” Out of nowhere his hand comes from over my head, reaches into the box I’m packing, and pulls out a chocolate chip cookie.
“Hands off! These are for work! You can have the ones on the tray!”
“Same exact thing, aren’t they?”
“Yours are hot. Eat the hot ones, they’re better.” I turn around to face him.
I can’t lie, it’s been weird raising Danny for the past few months. The kid had a growth spurt over the summer. He completely towers over me. It makes me feel inferior. How can a fourteen-year-old kid be so tall? I watch as he bites into the cookie.
“You’re right, the hot ones are better.”
I roll my eyes and lean back against the cabinets.
“Jesus Christ, how tall are you now?”
“I’m not tall, you’re just really short.”
“Thanks… Anyway, do you have any plans today?”
“Uhm… maybe go to a friend’s place?”
“Your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yet?”
“I don’t know Peter, God!”
“How are you getting there?”
“Can you drop me off?”
“OK, but it has to be within the next hour. I have appointments.”
“Got it! I’ll go get dressed.”
He sprints out of the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him run that fast, not even at lacrosse. I go back to packing my boxes. I think for a bit, then stop.
“WILL HER MOTHER BE HOME?!” I yell.
“YES!” he responds.
“YOU BETTER NOT BE LYING. YOU KNOW WHAT?! I’M WALKING YOU TO THE DOOR!”
He runs back into the kitchen hopping as he pulls up his pants. “PETER! You’re NOT walking me up to the door!”
“Do you want to go, yes or no?”
“I freakin’ HATE YOU when you do this to me!”
It always comes to this. He hates me for everything. I can’t remember the countless amount of times that he’s told me he despises me, and it’s usually for the silliest reasons… Buffalo chicken dip and meeting his “friend’s” ma, just to name a few.
“Come now, finish getting dressed so we can get going.”
He rolls his eyes and stomps his feet back into his bedroom. I’m waiting to hear the door slam or some large object get thrown at the damn target on his wall, but it’s quiet.
“Actually,” I hear from behind me.
I turn around. “Yes?”
“Can you pack up some of those cookies for me? You know, so I can bring them to my friend’s house?”
“You got it.”
“Cool. Thanks!”
He heads back toward his bedroom. This morning’s conversation wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting. Good thing I left out one minor detail…Kara.
Danny
“This is a nice neighborhood…A really nice neighborhood,” he says quietly as he squints and adjusts his butt in his seat.
“Yeah, her mom’s like a lawyer and stuff.”
“Like a lawyer and stuff?” he asks, laughs, and shakes his head. He starts driving real slowly. “What kind of law does she practice?”
“American law? We’re in America Peter.”
He scoffs. “You’re too much, Danny.”
I look out the window and recognize the car Selena gets picked up from school in. “It’s that one!” I yell.
“Yep, that’s the right number.”
We pull in the driveway slowly. When he parks the car, he looks in the mirror and starts fixing his hair, but I don’t have time for games. I grab the cookies and head to the door. I’m basically at the stoop when I hear the car door shut. I knock on the door fastly and loudly. “Come on, hurry up,” I whisper as I squeeze the box of cookies. I hear deep breaths behind me. Crap, he caught up. “Why are you so out of breath for?”
“Heartburn,” he says as he reaches into his pants pocket and shoves some of those chalky pills into his mouth. He carries the entire freakin’ bottle with him everywhere.
“OH MY GOD,” I whisper yell, “NO PILL POPPING AT SELENA’S HOUSE!”
He laughs. “Pill popping? These are Tum—”
Selena’s mom answers the door. “Hi there!” she says. A big fluffy dog comes out behind her. He stands on his hind legs and jumps on me. I laugh and pet him.
“He’s taller than you!” I say looking at Peter.
“Hi, I’m his brother, Peter.”
“Nice to meet you, Gabriella,” says Selena’s mom. She shakes Peter’s hand real hard. She looks like she’s about to throw him around or something. Peter is frozen completely. He looks her up and down. He’s smiling but not saying anything.
“Hey, Danny.” Selena appears behind her mom. She’s wearing a ponytail, tight jeans and a crop top with all these flowers on it. I wanna look at her some more, but I don’t want to look as stupid as Peter all those times he used to do googly eyes at Hayley. Selena’s mom steps outside, and Peter looks like he’s finally about to say something.
“Tums,” he says as he points to the bulge in his pocket and laughs awkwardly.
Crap. It’s something stupid. I walk inside quickly.
“Do you wanna go in the hot tub?” Selena asks, walking into the biggest, whitest, cleanest, kitchen I’ve ever seen.
“Uh… It’s wintertime, Selena.”
“You can go in the hot tub when it’s cold out, that’s the point of it being hot!” she laughs and pushes me on my shoulder. I hold tightly to the box of cookies.
“Oh, I didn’t know. I didn’t bring my bathing suit.”
“Too bad. What are you holding?”
“Oh… Uhm, cookies!”
“Yum!” She grabs the box from my hand, rips it open, and puts a cookie in her mouth. She props herself up on top of the counter and sits. Peter would probably kill me if I ever sat on our countertops at home, and our kitchen is nowhere near as nice as this one!
“OH MY GOD!” She slaps her hands down on her lap, looks up at the ceiling, and rolls her eyes back into her head.
“What?”
“These are the best cookies I’ve ever eaten, no lie. Did you bake these?”
“Yes! Yeah, I did. Right before I got here.” Crap. The words just fell out of my mouth. I didn’t even think about them before I said them. It’s OK. It’s fine.
“Wow. I know you told me you worked at a bakery, but damn!”
“Yeah, well, they’re super easy to make. I make them all the time, actually.”
“I love a man who can cook.”
She loves me?! YES! Wait, no, she loves a man who can cook… She loves Peter? EW! WHAT THE FUCK.
“Yeah, so… Can I see your hot tub? I’ve never been in a hot tub before.”
“Sure,” she says while snatching up the box of cookies and holding it tight to her chest. “But these cookies are coming.”
I follow her out the backdoor and onto a patio. I look back at the house behind me. I’m really tall, but I feel really… Small? I don’t know, it’s super freaking weird. This house is like a castle, or a mansion or something. Crap, I hope Peter can pick me up tonight. I don’t want Selena’s mom to drive me home. How embarrassing would it be if Selena saw where I lived and compared it to this place? She’d probably never want to hang out with me ever again.
Kara
I can’t really say that I enjoy hanging out at breweries. I don’t drink beer. It’s fucking disgusting. Luckily this one has some cider and wine options. I watch impatiently as he waits on line at the bar. Pretty crowded here… a lot of people in ugly sweaters trying to ignore their bratty kids. Peter stares very judgmentally at one couple about our age who just looks happy to be there. Their children are playing tag around one of the tables.
3:24 PM. I just want to get home. I need to finish packing up the last of my shoes, oh, and damn. I didn’t even start the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom. I’m gonna be up all fucking night cleaning. Whatever, getting the security deposit back is a must.
“How much do I owe you?”
“What? For what?” He sits across from me and pushes a cider my way.
“The drink.” I pick up my phone. “What’s your Venmo?”
“Venmo? No, I don’t do that shit. Hackers.”
“Do you have like a phobia of technology or something? Whatever.” I put my phone down and dig through my tiny purse. “I don’t even have that much cash right now.”
“I said you don’t owe me anything.” He smiles crookedly and sips his beer. His eyes don’t lose contact with mine.
I sigh, roll my eyes, and shove my purse down beside me. “OK, first of all, this is not a date. I don’t need you paying for my drink. Secondly, I’m paying you the rent via VENMO every month—”
“Eight dollars and forty-two cents. Let’s see… We’ll add that on to what you owe me for the coming month… If I don’t see twelve hundred eight dollars and forty-two cents in my hands, CASH, by the end of December, we’re gonna have big problems, OK? OH, and I only accept exact change, pennies and all.” He’s fucking laughing. He thinks this is so funny.
“You know what?” I grab my purse and stand, nearly knocking over my chair. I bend over and point in his smirking face and whisper. I’m a lady, I’m not trying to cause a scene. “You’re a fucking asshole, and you’re always going to be a fucking asshole. Why the fuck did I agree to this?”
He puts his beer down and taps his fingers on the table. He opens his mouth, and takes a big breath, and I just know he’s going to say something else that’s going to piss me off, so I don’t let him.
“I’m staying in your apartment for six months, tops, OK? Why did you need me to come here today? What rules do you need to lay out for me, hm? What sick kind of way do you think you’re about to manipulate me?” I keep going, but I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore because I’ve lost my own attention. He looks away from me, like he doesn’t even care about anything that’s coming out of my mouth.
“I just wanted to tell you some good news,” he says.
I look away from him and start biting on one of my fingernails. I’m quiet. I feel kinda like a crazy bitch now. No, he’s gaslighting me. That’s not why he brought me here. What good news could he possibly have?
“What’s your news?” I ask as I sit back in my seat.
“Cookie?” he asks, as he pulls a box out from a man bag. He would carry a man bag. He’s definitely the type of guy that carries cookies in his man bag.
“Cookie?” I ask.
“Yeah. I baked them.”
“At work?”
“Yeah… Kara, I’m not here to have a date with you… Though you know I’d like that… I was heartbroken when—” he smiles and I grimace. “Anyway… I’m not here to make you uncomfortable either. I’m here because I just made a partnership with a couple of breweries for the bakery I manage. They’re going to start selling Vorhees cookies at the counter! I swear, cookies go so well with beer… Possibly even cider. Here, try a toffee one with your drink!” He flips open the box and pushes it toward me.
I’ve never seen his eyes light up the way they do when he talks about baking. It’s strange. He’s strange. But also it’s kind of sweet. Fuck it. I take a cookie. “Thanks… So this place is going to sell Vorhees cookies?”
“Kinda.”
“Kinda?” I take a bite. Fuck, this cookie is good. He made this?
“I mean, Vorhees doesn’t make them, I do…And I just felt like “Vorhees cookies” isn’t a very appealing name… Although the funds will go directly to the bakery… NOT through Venmo though, or Paypal, or Zelle, or Cash app, or—”
“Got it, through cash.”
“No, a check is just fine as well.”
“What are you calling the cookies? Petey’s cookies?”
“No… Who is Petey?” he sips his beer.
“It’s short for Peter… and it kind of rhymes?”
“No it’s not, and no it doesn’t.”
“Never mind, Peter. What are you calling them?” I finish the last of my cookie and I kind of want another, but I’m not asking him for one. I’ll just wait until he offers me one.
“Well, we are trying to revamp the bakery a bit, make it a little more exciting, get some new customers… Hell, why stop at beer and cookies? We could do wine and Tiramisu… Cheesecake and whiskey!”
“Sounds… interesting.”
“I’m thinking of calling the collaboration program…Ready for this?” He smiles and laughs like he’s about to make this huge, mind-blowing revelation. “HAVE YOUR CAKE AND DRINK IT TOO.”
“Wow—That is—”
“It’s not just this brewery. I already have three breweries with weekly purchase orders!”
“Peter, that’s—”
“I only started presenting this idea today!”
“Cool, have you—”
“My boss is going to be so happy!”
“So this is why you asked me here, to try a cookie?”
“Well—Yeah, I thought we were friends—I— Did you like it? Anyway, I wanted to talk more about tomorrow. What time will you be arriving at the apartment?” he looks embarrassed.
“The cookie was good.”
“Nice,” he says as he finishes his beer. He slams the glass down on the table.
“I hope you aren’t driving home.”
“I had one beer, Kara.”
“In like thirty seconds, Peter.”
“What time are you arriving tomorrow?” he asks, almost angrily.
“I don’t know, sometime in the evening. Maybe like 4:00ish?”
“My brother will be home from school by then.”
“Great. He can help us carry in some of my shit.”
“I was hoping you’d come earlier.”
“Nope, too much packing and cleaning left to do.”
“Alright. It will all work out… How much stuff are you bringing?”
“Good amount.”
“Like your entire car full?”
“Car? I have a U-Haul.”
He just stares for a bit. “You saw my apartment, right?”
“I did.”
“Will it all fit in the apartment?”
‘Like you said, it will all work out.”
He reaches into his pocket and shoves something into his mouth. He chews viciously.
“Do you have cookies in your pocket too?”
“No, Tums,” he laughs.
“Am I really giving you acid reflux?’
“No, it’s not you. I always have heartburn now.”
“That’s weird.”
“Tell me about it…Anyway, you think you’re going to want another drink? I’m only sticking to one for tonight.”
“No, I’m good…But…”
“But?”
“Any more cookies?” I give in.
He smiles. “Chocolate chip or S’mores?”
I sip leisurely on my cider and he watches. I actually feel a little bit better about this whole thing. Maybe he really didn’t ask me here to boss me around about our new living arrangement… and maybe he really is drinking less? I mean, one beer? It was a fast beer, but it was still only one. Maybe that’s the power of heartache. I mean, heartburn. Whatever.