Donuts and Handcuffs

I put his breakfast and the blue drive with the video footage in a shopping bag for him. It was weird leaving my apartment together knowing that there was a chance that his coworkers might drive by and see. I didn’t know if he wanted us to be public in any way. I always assumed that everything should be hidden.

His arms circled my waist as he nuzzled my throat. “I hope I can see you soon.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “But now that my arm is a little better, I’m going to have to catch up on a lot of work for a few days.”

He nodded. “Let me know if I can help.”

“Thanks,” I said, as he bent down to give me a quick kiss before we went our separate ways.

With such a wonderful start to the day, I kept feeling like something might explode, in order to give it balance. I knew that was something that had been long ingrained in me. When things were going well, you had to expect the opposite to happen. But the day flew by in a whirlwind of everything going my way.

For the next three days, I’d find myself grinning down at the mixing bowl, or the change in my hand, or the pink checkered cloth as I wiped down the counter. Daniel. I couldn’t believe that the other night had really happened, and that it was so… I sighed down at the glass surface. Utterly perfect.

The way he’d held me, treasured me, made me feel so high just from his touch – it was like hearing the sound of a bell for the first time. His vibrations were still ringing through me and everything seemed brighter.

I’d never dated. I’d never known what was normal. My ex showed up at my parents’ house a week after we met, took me for coffee, then I was moving into his apartment to put some space between me and my unusual family. It was too fast, too off kilter, and it wa

s a great relief when Jenson was arrested, even though I was humiliated. Since I’d barely been in public, nobody in town really knew me, so it had been easy for me to simply disappear.

The customer flow in the shop stayed steady so that I was able to pop back and work in the kitchen, carefully catching up on my baking. Everyone was still very understanding that I hadn’t resumed my regular schedule yet, and were just happy to have coffee, muffins, and cookies.

I still didn’t quite feel safe enough to use the fryer one-handed, so I made cookies shaped like donuts, which made everyone laugh.

A police officer I didn’t know came in, ordering a dozen of the donut cookies, and I didn’t even flinch. Giving him a wide smile, I added a carrot muffin sweetened with apple for their office manager. He seemed very appreciative, and held the door for the swarm of pre-teens who cruised in on their lunch hour.

Devin even arrived at the perfect time to help me scrub some of the larger pans. I had to admit that having an extra pair of hands was incredibly, well, handy. Maybe I could keep him on as a floating part-time employee, working just a few short shifts a week. I was at a place where I could actually afford such a luxury.

My relationship with money had always been strange. I never wanted to spend any of my family’s money, but I was rarely in a position where I could make my own. People didn’t hire employees if they didn’t have proper ID and a social insurance number. But I managed to get a few babysitting jobs for friends of my parents.

Later, when I got to high school, many students would have paid any amount of money to have someone write their assignments for them. I refused to help them cheat, but I did sell copies of my perfect notes. Most of them thought this was incredibly helpful since they didn’t bother paying attention in classes.

How strange that I could have made a small fortune had I just recalibrated my moral compass slightly. Yet I couldn’t do it. I needed to feel like I knew the difference between right and wrong. I needed to have a little shield around me that reinforced my belief that I was not a bad person.

Being surrounded by nice, normal people in this neighborhood was helping me immensely. I was no longer afraid to let people know where I lived. Everyone knew where I would be every single morning. There was a beautiful peace in the new structure of my life. Knowing that I would be parked here for many years gave me a foundation that felt incredibly sturdy.

It was still new, but it was becoming solid.

At the end of the day, once I gave Devin some cash and a smile, I ran a duster around the sculptures, the lamps, and the weird knick knacks I had collected.

I realized that I was feeling a huge wave of something unusual for me. Pride. My shop and my baking had put smiles on people’s faces all day long. I had known that for the past month, but it was interesting that I was seeing things a little differently now that I had someone who I could possibly share such thoughts with.

Daniel seemed incredibly proud of me. He seemed impressed by every little thing I did and texted me a few times a day reminding me not to work too hard. I was becoming comfortable with him, even when he left me breathless. There were a slew of other feelings swirling around and between the two of us, but I sort of liked that one best. I made him smile. It felt like I was a bright spot in his day.

It was so simple, so perfect.

After all of the complications of taking off and starting this new life, coming back to the very basics was refreshing.

Even after dealing with the tiny matter of getting my illegally procured evidence to the police in the middle of last night, now that I had that out of the way, it would be clear sailing.

Finishing my cleaning, I set the security systems, double-checked the massive locks on the back door, then locked the three industrial locks down the front door.

The metal bars in the large front window has been painted candy colors like teal and pink, so they didn’t draw attention. A normal person would never notice that I had a lot more security than the average bakeshop. But anyone who was looking to break in would see my defenses and hopefully wander elsewhere.

By this point, I was sure that I didn’t need it. But it was an ingrained habit, and I didn’t think I would ever let it go.

Walking around the front of the shop, I stood back to double-check everything, as I always did. If the paint was peeling, or the display inside needed to be adjusted, I wanted to know every detail.

But everything looked perfect. Sweet and happy and joyous. My little island of cute escape where everyone in the neighborhood could disappear for a few minutes.