When We Touch

“I wanted sushi,” I say.

Betty pushes on undeterred. “Then she agreed to have dinner with him.”

“You did not!” Tabby grabs my arm.

“It wasn’t… quite like that.” I step away, untying my apron and wiping my hands with it.

“He said you were. Are you not going to dinner with Bucky on Friday?” Betty cries.

“No. You are not going to dinner with Bucky on Friday,” Tabby says.

“Why would you say something like that, Tabitha? Just because my Bucky isn’t some pot-smoking, Harley Davidson riding—”

“I’ll have you know, Betty Pepper, I’ve only dated three guys who smoked pot—”

“You know what?” I shout before those two start throwing punches. “It’s just dinner. I’m glad to do it if it helps Bucky get over Cheryl… or whatever.”

“You are not glad to do it. Bucky Pepper is a—Ouch!”

I release her flesh from my sly pinch and pull the pin out of my dark hair, letting it fall down my back. “Thank you so much, Miss Betty.”

“It’s too bad you won’t be joining us for cake.” The old lady prances to the door, and I lean against the counter. The bell tinkles, and she’s gone.

Tabby turns, arms crossed to glare at me. “What. The fuck. Bucky Pepper smells like formaldehyde!”

“He’s a taxidermist.”

“He’s the shape of a coke bottle, and he’ll probably give you a stuffed squirrel!”

I can’t help a laugh. “It’s better than herpes.”

“Jesus, don’t even joke about sleeping with him.” Tabby does a full-body shiver. “His breath is like… like…”

I think a minute then it hits me. “Deviled eggs.” Nodding, I collect my ingredients and carry them to the shelves, where I arrange them neatly in order. “I just realized it smells like deviled eggs.”

“Good lord, Ember.” My friend lowers her gaze. “I cannot in good faith let you go out with that… that…”

Reaching out, I squeeze her arm. “So I go out with Bucky the stinky taxidermist. He gives me stuffed road-kill. It’s one night.”

“I heard he tried to grab Cheryl Ann’s cooch on their very first date. That’s why she ditched him. She should’ve slapped him into next week.” Tabby puts a hand on her hip and does her best Jane Russell glare. “What will you do if Bucky tries to grab you?”

“I’ll throw ice water in his face and go home.” Stepping forward I kiss her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

“There’s no shame in pretending you don’t hear him knocking.”

“Goodnight, Tabs.”

She grumbles as she leaves, and I walk slowly to the back of the old store where stairs lead to my loft apartment above. After my aunt died, she left this old five and dime store to me. Tabby helped me sell or trash all the shelves and retail furnishings, and I’ve been scrubbing and painting ever since.

Weathered wood painted white makes up the walls of shelves where I keep my meager baking ingredients. Two vintage chandeliers, fake branches, and driftwood arranged in vases are the start of my interior design. One day I imagine having a garland of multi-colored spring roses like Peggy Porschen’s at the entrance.

“One day,” I say softly, dreaming of the lavish London bakery and the lady who owns it.

The only piece of furniture I’ve been able to buy is the heavy wooden table where I do all my mixing, kneading, arranging, decorating…

I kept my aunt’s register and checkout counter for front reception. Slowly, slowly I’m saving up to add a refrigerated case. Last month, I was finally able to buy a second oven so I can cook two cakes at once.

“Just keep swimming.” I push open the heavy door leading to the upstairs where Coco and I will live.