9. Chapter 9
nine
T he sun rose too soon, and Annie had the sickening misfortune of dreaming of Chris.
Her brain had pulled out all the stops. Dream-her had been making out with dream-Chris. His hands had pulled her bra aside, stroking the skin underneath. Heavy petting below the waist had made her melt and even finish. Finally, the attention I’ve been craving...
A once-welcome happening now left a distasteful sensation in her mind. Frustrated, Annie threw herself out of bed and straight into her work assignments.
After a mostly decent night’s rest, she made significant headway on her drafts. The erotic dream soon faded from her consciousness.
He’s not entitled to my heart now... and this feeling won’t be forever..
Molly called in the afternoon. They chatted about their days. Molly mentioned that Peter promised to help Annie move her things when she returned home.
“Thank you. I’ll be home soon.”
“Take as much time as you need. No rush.”
Annie smiled. Just then, Julian moved into the forefront of her attention.
“Oh! One of the neighbors... I assume the one who lives here... he stopped by. Julian... er... well, I don’t know what his last name is.
But, well, he asked if you wanted any more wood for the cabin?
Isn’t he the neighbor you wanted me to talk to?
I actually bought a bundle from him on the way up. ”
“Oh, cool. He’s a nice guy.”
“Yeah, he seems friendly. And funny.”
Molly paused. “Kinda cute, huh?”
Annie’s face flushed. “Not bad...” she muttered. She felt guilty for already finding other men attractive so soon after the break up. He was tall, athletic, with kind eyes. She doubted Julian saw her as anything other than a familiar stranger.
“O-kay, Annie. Just let me know how much it’ll cost for a cord of wood,” Molly said, then added, “Maybe you two can… chat.”
“Did you want me to go talk to him on purpose?”
“Genuinely no… But then I also remembered that he’s actually a decent fella.”
“Decent fella?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, but I’m just getting wood from him. That’s all...”
When they both heard the words come out of Annie’s mouth, they busted into childish giggles. But when Molly continued, her tone turned serious.
“Now, you aren’t wallowing too much, are you? I saw you changed your status.”
Annie nibbled her nails. “I’ve been too busy today to wallow. Mostly.”
“That’s something. Productive.”
Even though only a few days had passed, she could now honestly admit that it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her chest was holding onto the familiar dull ache of a breakup, but that would pass with time. It always did.
“I don’t…” Annie went on, “I just... feel bad for getting out of there so quickly, like he doesn’t even matter,” she said be fore her next words fell out of her subconscious. “I don’t... miss him—I mean, he’s pretty upset, too. And he does matter.”
“Well, these things happen.”
“I know break ups are supposed to be horrible. I can’t help feeling like I messed things up… Like, he sucks, but he’s still a person…” She trailed off, and Molly waited patiently. “But this also feels like the end ... you know? Like I can see it. It’s... kinda freaking me out.”
“It is what it is. I think there’s good things coming your way. You deserve it.”
Annie felt a smile on her cheeks, and she indulged it. A genuine smile. One of relief. “Yeah. Good things.”
They chatted a bit more before the energy drained from Molly’s voice. She’d spent the previous day sending out another round of résumés and following up on an awful job interview that she figured was a dead end. She said she would text Annie later.
"Take care, girl, get yourself a nice meal! There's candles up there someplace. Light ‘em up like you're your own hot date."
Annie laughed. It sounded absurd, but at the same time she did love the idea of some calm candlelight.
"Love ya, Molly."
"Loves, Annie."
Her stomach growled as she ended the call. She’d been so hyper-focused on work that she hadn’t eaten a thing all day.
What do I even cook? Spaghetti? Meatloaf?
She ran through her mental recipe list before getting up.
Molly’s family kept a few food items in the pantry, and Annie had a few things left from the store in the fridge.
Okay, I can make both those, and also that, and this… but I could also make tomato soup and grilled cheese, or chili ?
The chili would take the longest, but it would also get her leftovers. Not to mention, she was seriously craving a hearty meal.
Chili it is!
The aroma of sizzling ground beef on the old white stove made her mouth water.
The pantry wasn’t stocked with cumin — her favorite — but they had other essential spices and a few tiny restaurant packets of chili flakes.
While browning the meat, and trying her best to ignore the loudly dripping kitchen faucet, Annie opened her tomato soup and a can of beans.
What I’d give for a fresh bell pepper or an onion, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Annie had become the cook after her mother had left, whether or not her father was sober enough to sit down at the dinner table to eat with her. And at the end of a long school day, she’d often worked on her homework with cooking shows playing in the background.
Her father hadn’t seemed to care what she watched, but occasionally he’d wander through the living room and sit down in his favorite chair to see a recipe through to the end. He’d utter an “Ugh,” or a “Huh...” as he watched, sipping on his beers.
If she never had to eat boxed mac n cheese or hamburger helper again, she’d be thrilled. Even the chili she was cooking would have been too complex for her dad.
However, when he’d disappeared to go drink at Lickety Splits, she’d taken the opportunity to experiment with recipes she’d copied down, just to have something different to eat.
When she’d gotten older, she’d picked up ingredients from the store herself, paid for with babysitting money.
She’d even considered going to cooking school.
But, oof , the cost.
Way too daunting .
Plus, cooking on her father’s part-time, one-income salary made her worry that her homely palate would fall short and attract mockery in a high-class culinary setting.
Her true gift for writing was what had—and still would—carry her through.
“Miss Annie, now that all that deadweight is gone, why not just go to cooking school?” Serene Hallowbrew piped up, smiling. She reached out to pet Airen the crow. “Nobody’s in your way now.”
Annie sighed. I wouldn’t consider Dad or Chris ‘dead weight,’ she thought back at the imaginary fae.
I’m finally getting ahead with my writing.
“ Finally,” she muttered under her breath.
And I do need a change, but the last thing I need is a new school loan and hours of unpaid homework.
God, the last thing I want is to be in debt up to my eyeballs.
.. Dad didn’t pay a cent. And Mom barely knows what I have a degree in…
“It’s not practical,” she muttered out loud.
Serene shrugged. “It’s your life.”
The soup simmered for an hour, filling the cabin with the savory aroma of tomatoes and spices.
Annie frequently checked on it, nervous for the soup to turn out perfect.
When the cooking timer beeped, she rushed over and dipped her spoon into the red brew, gently blowing on it.
Steam fogged her glasses. Her eyes widened in surprise.
The flavors were comforting and warm. But there was something…
missing. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
What remained of the paprika— and anything else remotely spicy– had been used up.
She frantically dug around, shuffling the tins and jars.
Just when she was about to give up hope, her hand brushed aside a jar to reveal the powdered garlic that was tucked away in the back corner of the cabinet. She let out a triumphant, “Yes! ”
Adding plenty of garlic to the pot, she let the soup simmer a bit longer before she scooped some into her bowl with some crackers.
She also lit a few candles around the room, just as Molly had suggested.
The warm lights shimmered on the surface of her meal.
Taking her first bite, she couldn’t help but close her eyes in bliss.
Aside from the pie from No Wait Diner, it was truly the best thing she'd tasted in weeks.