"You work in a bakery and I figured you could always use flour for other things. I was trying to be cute and think outside the box. But not outside the cake mix box. Is it too late to buy my mom some jewelry or a gift certificate to a spa?" he asks in a panic.
"Oh hush. You'll be fine. We're making the cake from scratch because that's the best way to do it."
I separate all of the items on the counter so we each have one of the same.
"Did you forget about the part where I can't cook? This is not going to end well," he says nervously as I hand him two eggs and point to his mixing bowl.
"Did you forget the part where I run a bakery? This is going to end awesome. Less talking, more paying attention," I tell him as I indicate with my hands that he should follow what I'm doing as I crack the eggs and measure the sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, vanilla, and milk. I hand him a wooden spoon and we both silently stir our mixtures. I thought I would feel more uncomfortable alone with Zander than I actually do. Aside from my stupid "romantic" slip, being here with him makes me feel anything but nervous. Standing next to him, listening to the music playing softly, our arms brushing up against each other every so often as we mix and stir, I feel at ease. He has a calming effect on me that seems familiar. I hadn't really noticed it before, but every time he speaks, something tickles the back of my mind. Like a memory trying to surface through the fog, but I just can't make it appear. I ignore the nagging sensation and just let myself be in the moment for once, not worrying about anything else around me. We talk about nonsensical things like our favorite celebrities, favorite movies, best book we ever read, and the places we'd like to travel to someday. In between our talking, I give him instructions and tips on baking. It feels so natural being here with him like this, talking easily and trying my hand at flirting.
Unfortunately, the universe has a funny way of knowing when I'm starting to let my guard down. As soon as I open my mouth to ask Zander about his job, my iPod starts playing a haunting melody—one I'm all too familiar with.
"This is a great song. Have you heard the version by Johnny Cash?" Zander asks.
I'm too busy being sucked into a memory to answer him. A memory that causes me to drop my bowl of batter and clutch both of my hands to my chest to stop the ache in my heart, to stop the remembrance of a day that I've tried to never think of again. It's impossible to use my switch now and turn everything off. With Zander here, my switch is broken.
I turned the volume up as high as it would go in my Honda Civic as I drove my best friend Casey and I to school after spending the previous night at her house. It was the last day before Christmas break which was why my mom agreed to let me spend the night on a school night.
"Oh my gosh, I hate this song. It's so depressing," Casey yelled over the music.
"You're insane! This is Hurt by Nine Inch Nails and it's awesome!" I argued with her before I began to sing along.
Halfway into the chorus, during a quieter part of the song, I heard my cell phone ring in the center console. I stopped at a stop sign and grabbed it, noticing that I had three missed calls from my dad.
"Hey, Dad, what's up?" I answered as I quickly turned down the volume on the radio.
"SHE'S GONE! OH MY GOD, SHE'S GONE!" my dad yelled into the phone.
I'd never heard my dad like that before, and my stomach immediately dropped when I heard the sobs in his voice as he continued to cry and yell.
"Dad, what are you talking about? What's going on?"
Casey leaned toward me and gave me a questioning look, but I just shook my head at her. I had no idea what was happening and I was scared to death.
"Your mom, oh God, I think your mom's gone. Oh my God. Oh God help me," my dad cried.
"WHAT? Dad, what are you talking about?"
My hands shook and I felt Casey reach over and wrap her arm around my shoulder.
"I can't wake her up, Addison. I think she's gone. Oh, Jesus. Oh my God."
My breath whooshed out of me, and I clenched my jaw as hard as I could so I wouldn't break down on the phone with him. He was hysterical and I couldn't process what he was saying to me.
"I'm coming home. I'm coming home right now. Okay, Dad? I'll be home as soon as I can," I reassured him.
He continued to cry and mumble incoherently about her being gone before I heard the dial tone in my ear. I pulled the phone away and stare at it.
This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. I just saw her last night and she was fine. She was healthy and perfect and we talked about baking Christmas cookies. She just got a clean bill of health from her oncologist last week. We just celebrated the second anniversary of her being in remission. This wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real.
"Addison, what happened?"
Casey's voice made me jump. I forgot she was in the car with me. I slowly turned and faced her, not wanting to say the words out loud, not wanting to believe that this was happening.
"I think my mom's gone. I…I think she's dead."
Casey gasped and I watched in a daze as the tears started to fall from her eyes. I couldn't cry. I couldn't believe it was real. It wasn't real.
"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real," I whispered over and over to myself.
My cell phone rang again, and I immediately answered it. I hoped with everything in me that this was just some cruel joke that someone decided to play on me.
"Addison, it's Aunt Katie," my aunt said softly. I could hear the tears and sadness in her voice but I ignored it.
"What's going on? Did you talk to Dad? This isn't happening, right?"
My aunt let out a small sob and I squeezed my eyes closed.
"You need to come home, sweetie."
I handed the phone over to Casey without even answering her. I heard Casey talking softly with my aunt, but I ignored it. The song was still playing on the radio and all I heard were the words that Casey just said were so depressing only moments ago.
Everyone I love goes away, in the end.
I leaned forward and rested my head on the steering wheel and screamed as loud and as long as I could. I screamed until I had no voice left. I screamed until I couldn't hear anything but the sound of my screams echoing through my head.
"Addison, hey, it's okay. Shhhh, you're okay. I'm right here, Addison."
Zander's soothing voice by my ear brings me back from the past, but there's something about those words. Something about the way he says them that gives me goose bumps. He's said those exact words to me before. I know he has. But that's not possible. I can remember every single conversation we've ever had, every word he's ever spoken to me. What is happening to me? What is wrong with me?
"I think I'm going crazy," I whisper to him when I finally find my voice. My throat hurts, and I'm immediately embarrassed. I know that feeling. I must have been screaming.
"It's okay, we're all a little bit crazy," he reassures me softly before pulling me closer and placing a kiss on top of my head.
I suddenly notice that we're sitting on the floor of the kitchen in a puddle of cake batter. It's all over my jeans, and since Zander is right next to me, it's now all over his as well as his shoes. I'm mortified that this happened. It's been so long since I had an episode like this and now, ever since meeting Zander, it's happened twice.
"I'm sorry. Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot," I ramble in shame, tears prickling my eyes as I pull out of his arms and attempt to get up off of the floor so I can run and hide in a closet somewhere and never have to face him again.
Unfortunately, my feet slide right through the slippery batter that coats the floor and I flop back down on my butt, causing batter to splatter on the front of Zander's T-shirt.
I stare at his shirt in horror and watch as he slowly looks down at the front of him. Reaching over, I try to wipe the mess off of his shirt but forget all about the fact that my hands smacked down in batter when I fell. Instead of helping him, I just get him messier by smearing more goo onto him.
"Oh no," I whisper in dismay. I can feel my chin start to quiver, and I know if I don't leave right now, I'm going to start crying. I will NOT cry in front of him.
This night just went from bad to the worst night in history. He's going to get up and run out of here so fast that all I'll see is a cloud of dust in his wake. It would be easier for me if I never had to see him again and relive this horrifying nightmare of having a break down in front of him and then spilling cake batter all over his clothes, but just that thought alone depresses me.
"You are in such big trouble now," Zander finally says quietly as he looks up at me. I bite my lip, waiting for him to tell me what a freak I am, but instead his mouth curls in a menacing grin. Before I can apologize to him again, a handful of batter is mashed against the side of my face from Zander's hand.
I gasp in shock as the cold liquid drips down the side of my face and drops down the front of my V-neck T-shirt.
Zander chuckles at the look of complete shock on my face, and without thinking about my actions, I quickly scoop up some of the batter by my hip and mirror his actions, smacking the mixture on one of his cheeks with a maniacal laugh. This situation is just too crazy for me to even comprehend right now.
We sit there quietly staring at one another with wide eyes until suddenly we both burst out laughing, each of us scrambling to wipe up more spilled batter from the floor and throw it at one another. I start screaming and laughing when a pile of it lands on top of my head, and Zander lets out a yelp when I reach over and smear a handful through his hair.
"Oh my gosh, UNCLE! UNCLE! I have cake batter in my eye!" Zander complains with a laugh as he holds up his messy hands in front of him in a sign of surrender.
"Shut it! I have cake batter in my ear," I reply with a giggle.
He wipes one of his hands off on his jeans and reaches over, using the heel of his hand to get some of the mess off of my cheek. His hand is warm and soft as it sweeps against my skin, and I instantly feel cherished as he touches me. I've been craving attention like this from someone for so long that even the simple act of cleaning off my face fills me with unexpected appreciation for him and the care he takes with me. When he finishes getting most of it off, he doesn't move his hand away from me; instead he cups the side of my face and brushes his thumb back and forth over my cheekbone.
I swallow thickly and hold my breath as he stares into my eyes then slowly moves his gaze down to my lips. I quickly wet them with my tongue, and I hear him make a low groaning sound in his throat.
"I really want to kiss you right now," he whispers, still staring at my lips.
My heart beats frantically in my chest. I should tell him no. I should tell him he doesn't want to get messed up with me because it won't end well. I should tell him he's too good to get involved with me. There are so many things I should do, but right now I can't do anything but slowly nod my head in response to his words.
"Okay," I reply softly.
He slowly moves his face toward mine, and I close my eyes, the anticipation of feeling his lips on mine too much to take with my eyes open. I can feel his breath on my face and the first tentative touch of his lips. A shiver runs up my spine. His lips are soft and warm as he presses them against mine, and I let out a sigh against his mouth when he wraps his other arm around my waist and slides me across the floor closer to him. All the bad thoughts fly from my mind, and nothing consumes me right now except Zander: Zander's touch, Zander's lips, Zander's hands… He surrounds me and makes all of the bad things disappear. He deepens the kiss with a groan and tightens his hold around my waist. My arms tangle around his neck, and I kiss him back with everything in me. Every feeling, every thought, every emotion—I pour it all into this kiss.
"Addison! What the hell is going on?"
The angry sound of my dad's voice cuts through the haze of pleasure that envelops me, as Zander and I quickly break apart.
I stare at my father in shock as he stands in the doorway of the kitchen, looking down at Zander and me in irritation. He wasn't supposed to be out of rehab for another two weeks, and I feel a wave of fury wash over me when I realize that he most likely skipped out on it again.
Zander's words from earlier in the evening suddenly pop into my mind at that moment. When he said, "This is not going to end well," I wonder if he had any idea just how true that statement would turn out to be.
Chapter Seven
"Maybe he really is turning over a new leaf this time, Addison."
I roll my eyes at Dr. Thompson and cross my arms over my chest.
"You don't think people can change?" she asks softly, seeing the irritation on my face.
"Who knows? It's not like I've had much experience lately with people changing for the better. No one does what they say they will, and no one lives up to their promises."
I pick at some imaginary pieces of lint on my shirt while Dr. Thompson writes on her notepad. One of these days I should just get up and grab that thing from her to see if she's actually writing down things about me or playing tic-tac-toe with herself.
"That's true. Not everyone in your life will always do what you expect of them. Sometimes they'll let you down, and sometimes, even though they tell you that they love you, they do things that prove otherwise. You just have to decide whether or not you have enough room left in your heart for them. Enough space to let them in and show them what you need from them. As much as we want them to, our loved ones can't read our minds. If they don't know what we want from them or what we need from them, they are never going to be able to give it to us."
"Oh hush. You'll be fine. We're making the cake from scratch because that's the best way to do it."
I separate all of the items on the counter so we each have one of the same.
"Did you forget about the part where I can't cook? This is not going to end well," he says nervously as I hand him two eggs and point to his mixing bowl.
"Did you forget the part where I run a bakery? This is going to end awesome. Less talking, more paying attention," I tell him as I indicate with my hands that he should follow what I'm doing as I crack the eggs and measure the sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, vanilla, and milk. I hand him a wooden spoon and we both silently stir our mixtures. I thought I would feel more uncomfortable alone with Zander than I actually do. Aside from my stupid "romantic" slip, being here with him makes me feel anything but nervous. Standing next to him, listening to the music playing softly, our arms brushing up against each other every so often as we mix and stir, I feel at ease. He has a calming effect on me that seems familiar. I hadn't really noticed it before, but every time he speaks, something tickles the back of my mind. Like a memory trying to surface through the fog, but I just can't make it appear. I ignore the nagging sensation and just let myself be in the moment for once, not worrying about anything else around me. We talk about nonsensical things like our favorite celebrities, favorite movies, best book we ever read, and the places we'd like to travel to someday. In between our talking, I give him instructions and tips on baking. It feels so natural being here with him like this, talking easily and trying my hand at flirting.
Unfortunately, the universe has a funny way of knowing when I'm starting to let my guard down. As soon as I open my mouth to ask Zander about his job, my iPod starts playing a haunting melody—one I'm all too familiar with.
"This is a great song. Have you heard the version by Johnny Cash?" Zander asks.
I'm too busy being sucked into a memory to answer him. A memory that causes me to drop my bowl of batter and clutch both of my hands to my chest to stop the ache in my heart, to stop the remembrance of a day that I've tried to never think of again. It's impossible to use my switch now and turn everything off. With Zander here, my switch is broken.
I turned the volume up as high as it would go in my Honda Civic as I drove my best friend Casey and I to school after spending the previous night at her house. It was the last day before Christmas break which was why my mom agreed to let me spend the night on a school night.
"Oh my gosh, I hate this song. It's so depressing," Casey yelled over the music.
"You're insane! This is Hurt by Nine Inch Nails and it's awesome!" I argued with her before I began to sing along.
Halfway into the chorus, during a quieter part of the song, I heard my cell phone ring in the center console. I stopped at a stop sign and grabbed it, noticing that I had three missed calls from my dad.
"Hey, Dad, what's up?" I answered as I quickly turned down the volume on the radio.
"SHE'S GONE! OH MY GOD, SHE'S GONE!" my dad yelled into the phone.
I'd never heard my dad like that before, and my stomach immediately dropped when I heard the sobs in his voice as he continued to cry and yell.
"Dad, what are you talking about? What's going on?"
Casey leaned toward me and gave me a questioning look, but I just shook my head at her. I had no idea what was happening and I was scared to death.
"Your mom, oh God, I think your mom's gone. Oh my God. Oh God help me," my dad cried.
"WHAT? Dad, what are you talking about?"
My hands shook and I felt Casey reach over and wrap her arm around my shoulder.
"I can't wake her up, Addison. I think she's gone. Oh, Jesus. Oh my God."
My breath whooshed out of me, and I clenched my jaw as hard as I could so I wouldn't break down on the phone with him. He was hysterical and I couldn't process what he was saying to me.
"I'm coming home. I'm coming home right now. Okay, Dad? I'll be home as soon as I can," I reassured him.
He continued to cry and mumble incoherently about her being gone before I heard the dial tone in my ear. I pulled the phone away and stare at it.
This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. I just saw her last night and she was fine. She was healthy and perfect and we talked about baking Christmas cookies. She just got a clean bill of health from her oncologist last week. We just celebrated the second anniversary of her being in remission. This wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real.
"Addison, what happened?"
Casey's voice made me jump. I forgot she was in the car with me. I slowly turned and faced her, not wanting to say the words out loud, not wanting to believe that this was happening.
"I think my mom's gone. I…I think she's dead."
Casey gasped and I watched in a daze as the tears started to fall from her eyes. I couldn't cry. I couldn't believe it was real. It wasn't real.
"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real," I whispered over and over to myself.
My cell phone rang again, and I immediately answered it. I hoped with everything in me that this was just some cruel joke that someone decided to play on me.
"Addison, it's Aunt Katie," my aunt said softly. I could hear the tears and sadness in her voice but I ignored it.
"What's going on? Did you talk to Dad? This isn't happening, right?"
My aunt let out a small sob and I squeezed my eyes closed.
"You need to come home, sweetie."
I handed the phone over to Casey without even answering her. I heard Casey talking softly with my aunt, but I ignored it. The song was still playing on the radio and all I heard were the words that Casey just said were so depressing only moments ago.
Everyone I love goes away, in the end.
I leaned forward and rested my head on the steering wheel and screamed as loud and as long as I could. I screamed until I had no voice left. I screamed until I couldn't hear anything but the sound of my screams echoing through my head.
"Addison, hey, it's okay. Shhhh, you're okay. I'm right here, Addison."
Zander's soothing voice by my ear brings me back from the past, but there's something about those words. Something about the way he says them that gives me goose bumps. He's said those exact words to me before. I know he has. But that's not possible. I can remember every single conversation we've ever had, every word he's ever spoken to me. What is happening to me? What is wrong with me?
"I think I'm going crazy," I whisper to him when I finally find my voice. My throat hurts, and I'm immediately embarrassed. I know that feeling. I must have been screaming.
"It's okay, we're all a little bit crazy," he reassures me softly before pulling me closer and placing a kiss on top of my head.
I suddenly notice that we're sitting on the floor of the kitchen in a puddle of cake batter. It's all over my jeans, and since Zander is right next to me, it's now all over his as well as his shoes. I'm mortified that this happened. It's been so long since I had an episode like this and now, ever since meeting Zander, it's happened twice.
"I'm sorry. Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot," I ramble in shame, tears prickling my eyes as I pull out of his arms and attempt to get up off of the floor so I can run and hide in a closet somewhere and never have to face him again.
Unfortunately, my feet slide right through the slippery batter that coats the floor and I flop back down on my butt, causing batter to splatter on the front of Zander's T-shirt.
I stare at his shirt in horror and watch as he slowly looks down at the front of him. Reaching over, I try to wipe the mess off of his shirt but forget all about the fact that my hands smacked down in batter when I fell. Instead of helping him, I just get him messier by smearing more goo onto him.
"Oh no," I whisper in dismay. I can feel my chin start to quiver, and I know if I don't leave right now, I'm going to start crying. I will NOT cry in front of him.
This night just went from bad to the worst night in history. He's going to get up and run out of here so fast that all I'll see is a cloud of dust in his wake. It would be easier for me if I never had to see him again and relive this horrifying nightmare of having a break down in front of him and then spilling cake batter all over his clothes, but just that thought alone depresses me.
"You are in such big trouble now," Zander finally says quietly as he looks up at me. I bite my lip, waiting for him to tell me what a freak I am, but instead his mouth curls in a menacing grin. Before I can apologize to him again, a handful of batter is mashed against the side of my face from Zander's hand.
I gasp in shock as the cold liquid drips down the side of my face and drops down the front of my V-neck T-shirt.
Zander chuckles at the look of complete shock on my face, and without thinking about my actions, I quickly scoop up some of the batter by my hip and mirror his actions, smacking the mixture on one of his cheeks with a maniacal laugh. This situation is just too crazy for me to even comprehend right now.
We sit there quietly staring at one another with wide eyes until suddenly we both burst out laughing, each of us scrambling to wipe up more spilled batter from the floor and throw it at one another. I start screaming and laughing when a pile of it lands on top of my head, and Zander lets out a yelp when I reach over and smear a handful through his hair.
"Oh my gosh, UNCLE! UNCLE! I have cake batter in my eye!" Zander complains with a laugh as he holds up his messy hands in front of him in a sign of surrender.
"Shut it! I have cake batter in my ear," I reply with a giggle.
He wipes one of his hands off on his jeans and reaches over, using the heel of his hand to get some of the mess off of my cheek. His hand is warm and soft as it sweeps against my skin, and I instantly feel cherished as he touches me. I've been craving attention like this from someone for so long that even the simple act of cleaning off my face fills me with unexpected appreciation for him and the care he takes with me. When he finishes getting most of it off, he doesn't move his hand away from me; instead he cups the side of my face and brushes his thumb back and forth over my cheekbone.
I swallow thickly and hold my breath as he stares into my eyes then slowly moves his gaze down to my lips. I quickly wet them with my tongue, and I hear him make a low groaning sound in his throat.
"I really want to kiss you right now," he whispers, still staring at my lips.
My heart beats frantically in my chest. I should tell him no. I should tell him he doesn't want to get messed up with me because it won't end well. I should tell him he's too good to get involved with me. There are so many things I should do, but right now I can't do anything but slowly nod my head in response to his words.
"Okay," I reply softly.
He slowly moves his face toward mine, and I close my eyes, the anticipation of feeling his lips on mine too much to take with my eyes open. I can feel his breath on my face and the first tentative touch of his lips. A shiver runs up my spine. His lips are soft and warm as he presses them against mine, and I let out a sigh against his mouth when he wraps his other arm around my waist and slides me across the floor closer to him. All the bad thoughts fly from my mind, and nothing consumes me right now except Zander: Zander's touch, Zander's lips, Zander's hands… He surrounds me and makes all of the bad things disappear. He deepens the kiss with a groan and tightens his hold around my waist. My arms tangle around his neck, and I kiss him back with everything in me. Every feeling, every thought, every emotion—I pour it all into this kiss.
"Addison! What the hell is going on?"
The angry sound of my dad's voice cuts through the haze of pleasure that envelops me, as Zander and I quickly break apart.
I stare at my father in shock as he stands in the doorway of the kitchen, looking down at Zander and me in irritation. He wasn't supposed to be out of rehab for another two weeks, and I feel a wave of fury wash over me when I realize that he most likely skipped out on it again.
Zander's words from earlier in the evening suddenly pop into my mind at that moment. When he said, "This is not going to end well," I wonder if he had any idea just how true that statement would turn out to be.
Chapter Seven
"Maybe he really is turning over a new leaf this time, Addison."
I roll my eyes at Dr. Thompson and cross my arms over my chest.
"You don't think people can change?" she asks softly, seeing the irritation on my face.
"Who knows? It's not like I've had much experience lately with people changing for the better. No one does what they say they will, and no one lives up to their promises."
I pick at some imaginary pieces of lint on my shirt while Dr. Thompson writes on her notepad. One of these days I should just get up and grab that thing from her to see if she's actually writing down things about me or playing tic-tac-toe with herself.
"That's true. Not everyone in your life will always do what you expect of them. Sometimes they'll let you down, and sometimes, even though they tell you that they love you, they do things that prove otherwise. You just have to decide whether or not you have enough room left in your heart for them. Enough space to let them in and show them what you need from them. As much as we want them to, our loved ones can't read our minds. If they don't know what we want from them or what we need from them, they are never going to be able to give it to us."
