“Heavenly.” There’s gotta be a way to fix this situation. Come on, David. Use your overeducated brain! “Hey, do you mind if I help you?”
“You don’t have to,” she says. “I know you have better things to do on a Saturday.”
I give her my most convincing smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing’s more important than helping you bake.” Seriously. Nothing. The heat death of the universe is not more important.
Her smile doubles in wattage, and my entire system short-circuits. Jesus, for a smile like that, I can tolerate almost anything, including death cobbler.
“Thanks, David,” she says.
She sets up her laptop with the baking video and hits play.
I go over to the sink and start washing peaches like the pastry chef instructor says.
“So. Why do you bake?” I ask, as I pat the fruit dry. I’m genuinely curious. She has to know she’s terrible. Nobody can be that delusional. And she hasn’t improved one bit since she started the baking course.
“It’s an exercise to keep your mind clear and functioning. My mom said that people with muddied minds and hearts can’t do it.”
That’s…very sweet of her mom. My mom said cooking is always done out of love, because how can you make anything for your family if you don’t love them?
But it’s too bad that Erin’s mom also forgot to tell her to quit if the end results don’t improve. There are so many ways to exercise your mind, like crossword puzzles or meditation. Or even the free online training courses Sweet Darlings offers.
Erin follows instructions from the chef in the video. I hover over her to make sure she is actually doing what she’s supposed to, but my phone rings.
“You should answer that,” she says, measuring out sugar.
“It can wait.”
“Come on. I don’t need your help adding sugar.”
Oh, I think you do. “I just want to be sure I learn how to make peach cobbler. My mother really likes it.” Is my nose starting to grow?
My phone goes off again. Argh!
“Sounds like something’s important,” Erin says. “I’m fine. And we can do it again together later if you want. I’d love to make your mom a peach cobbler.”
Shit. I can’t think of a clever reason why she shouldn’t, other than the truth. And the damned phone won’t quit ringing.
I run to the living room to snatch it off the charger. “Yes?” I snarl as I walk back to the kitchen.
“Why, how lovely to talk to you, dear. I love getting snapped at. Are you still in bed?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, tilting my head heavenward. “Mom, what is it? I’m helping Erin with something.”
“Good for you. It’s important for a couple to bond before the wedding.”
“Exactly,” I say in my most agreeable voice, hoping she doesn’t notice the great effort I’m exerting not to terminate this call immediately so I can devote one hundred percent of my attention to what Erin’s doing in the kitchen. She’s moving back and forth between the bowl with the peaches and the cabinets and the pantry way too fast. What is she grabbing and dumping over the peaches? Looks like sugar… But I can never be sure with—
“…visit you this weekend, but your dad said I should wait until next week,” Mom is saying. “Give you some warning, in case you have something planned.”
“What are you talking about? You weren’t going to visit at all.” Or was she?
“I know, but I just can’t
wait. I want to meet Erin.”
“Mom, you’ve already met her. Several times.” Erin and I don’t need to see her before the party. It’ll just be having to lie one extra time. I can deal with it, but it’s going to be stressful for Erin. And she doesn’t deal with stress very well. Don’t need her go pale and sick again.
“Oh, I know, but that was when she was just your assistant. Now she’s your fiancée. Not the same thing at all.”