one of them before I crawl into bed, and for some
strange reason, it's helped keep the bad dreams away. Ever since I received the first
napkin from Zander, I've stopped having the same recurring dream that my mother is
still alive and wants nothing to do with me. I no longer wake up each night with tears
on my cheeks and a scream in my throat as I try to shake off the remnants of the dream
where I'm chasing after her, calling her name, but she won't turn around or acknowledge
me. I've spent plenty of time on the internet researching what this dream could mean,
and all of the answers leave me with a feeling of dread. All of the emotions I've
kept buried for so long are manifesting themselves into the one thing I'm most afraid
of: that my mother is ashamed of my behavior and that's why she doesn't acknowledge
me in my dreams.
I ignore Meg's incessant chatter behind me about a rude customer that was in the store
the day before. I look at the clock and wonder if Zander will be on time today or
running late again like yesterday. I don't even know what he does for a living. Or
how old he is. Or his last name. Jesus, this is crazy and I probably DO need to change
my meds. We've been talking for weeks and haven't spoken about anything of importance.
The bell above the door dings, and I can't keep the smile off of my face even with
Meg standing right by my side and staring at me with her mouth wide open because I'm
practically bouncing up and down with happiness when I see him. Zander returns my
smile and walks up to the counter.
"So, my mom's birthday is coming up and I really want to bake her a cake," he says
in greeting as I pour his usual cup of coffee, and he takes a seat at the one and
only barstool on the other side of the counter that Meg brought out last week from
the storage room just for him.
"Um, yay?" I reply in confusion, not really sure why he's telling me this.
"Here's the thing. I can make a mean piece of cinnamon and sugar toast and my microwave
chicken nuggets are TO DIE FOR, but other than that, I'm kind of clueless in the kitchen,"
he says with a sheepish smile.
He looks down at his coffee and busies himself stirring in his sugar. I can see a
faint blush on his cheeks, and it suddenly occurs to me that he's embarrassed. I don't
know why, but it's the cutest thing I've ever seen. He always seems so confident and
sure of himself, and it's a little intimidating. But right now he's on my turf, and
he's asking for my help with something I'm pretty damn good at.
"Do you want me to bake something for her?"
He looks up at me, and I can't help starring as he tugs his bottom lip into his mouth.
"That would be cheating. And she would totally know I cheated, and I'd never hear
the end of it. She still likes to tell everyone the story about when I was in kindergarten
and tried to bribe my bus driver with chocolate chip cookies if she would do my homework
for me for a week. Store bought chocolate chip cookies, mind you. Imagine what she
would do with the knowledge that I had a professional baker make her a cake and tried
to pass it off as my own?" he asks me in horror.
He rests his hands flat on the counter and leans across it so he's closer to me. I
hold my breath as he stares deeply into my eyes.
"Teach me how to bake. Help me, Addison. You're my only hope," he whispers seriously.
I swallow thickly and feel my heart speed up in my chest as he looks at me imploringly.
I don't even know what he just said to me; all I can think about is listening to his
soothing voice, even if he's just reciting the alphabet or reading the phone book.
Meg suddenly laughs loudly, and I jump in surprise, not even realizing she's still
standing there next to me, watching this whole exchange. I take a step away from the
counter and mentally shake myself out of the trance Zander has put me in with his
pretty face and his pretty voice.
Stupid pretty boy.
"Oh my
strange reason, it's helped keep the bad dreams away. Ever since I received the first
napkin from Zander, I've stopped having the same recurring dream that my mother is
still alive and wants nothing to do with me. I no longer wake up each night with tears
on my cheeks and a scream in my throat as I try to shake off the remnants of the dream
where I'm chasing after her, calling her name, but she won't turn around or acknowledge
me. I've spent plenty of time on the internet researching what this dream could mean,
and all of the answers leave me with a feeling of dread. All of the emotions I've
kept buried for so long are manifesting themselves into the one thing I'm most afraid
of: that my mother is ashamed of my behavior and that's why she doesn't acknowledge
me in my dreams.
I ignore Meg's incessant chatter behind me about a rude customer that was in the store
the day before. I look at the clock and wonder if Zander will be on time today or
running late again like yesterday. I don't even know what he does for a living. Or
how old he is. Or his last name. Jesus, this is crazy and I probably DO need to change
my meds. We've been talking for weeks and haven't spoken about anything of importance.
The bell above the door dings, and I can't keep the smile off of my face even with
Meg standing right by my side and staring at me with her mouth wide open because I'm
practically bouncing up and down with happiness when I see him. Zander returns my
smile and walks up to the counter.
"So, my mom's birthday is coming up and I really want to bake her a cake," he says
in greeting as I pour his usual cup of coffee, and he takes a seat at the one and
only barstool on the other side of the counter that Meg brought out last week from
the storage room just for him.
"Um, yay?" I reply in confusion, not really sure why he's telling me this.
"Here's the thing. I can make a mean piece of cinnamon and sugar toast and my microwave
chicken nuggets are TO DIE FOR, but other than that, I'm kind of clueless in the kitchen,"
he says with a sheepish smile.
He looks down at his coffee and busies himself stirring in his sugar. I can see a
faint blush on his cheeks, and it suddenly occurs to me that he's embarrassed. I don't
know why, but it's the cutest thing I've ever seen. He always seems so confident and
sure of himself, and it's a little intimidating. But right now he's on my turf, and
he's asking for my help with something I'm pretty damn good at.
"Do you want me to bake something for her?"
He looks up at me, and I can't help starring as he tugs his bottom lip into his mouth.
"That would be cheating. And she would totally know I cheated, and I'd never hear
the end of it. She still likes to tell everyone the story about when I was in kindergarten
and tried to bribe my bus driver with chocolate chip cookies if she would do my homework
for me for a week. Store bought chocolate chip cookies, mind you. Imagine what she
would do with the knowledge that I had a professional baker make her a cake and tried
to pass it off as my own?" he asks me in horror.
He rests his hands flat on the counter and leans across it so he's closer to me. I
hold my breath as he stares deeply into my eyes.
"Teach me how to bake. Help me, Addison. You're my only hope," he whispers seriously.
I swallow thickly and feel my heart speed up in my chest as he looks at me imploringly.
I don't even know what he just said to me; all I can think about is listening to his
soothing voice, even if he's just reciting the alphabet or reading the phone book.
Meg suddenly laughs loudly, and I jump in surprise, not even realizing she's still
standing there next to me, watching this whole exchange. I take a step away from the
counter and mentally shake myself out of the trance Zander has put me in with his
pretty face and his pretty voice.
Stupid pretty boy.
"Oh my
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