Baking 101: Part IV

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Baking 101: Part IV

An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle

(Sorry about the delay, wasn’t feeling good yesterday)

            “Oh, shit,” Trevor stupidly said before he could stop himself and as soon as his very hormonal and emotional wife broke out in tears, he really wish that he’d chosen his words more carefully.

            He also wished that he hadn’t come home in the middle of the day to surprise Zoe with lunch from her favorite restaurant, especially since every counter in the kitchen was covered with what he liked to call, “Experiments.”

            “I-I t-tried!” Zoe sobbed as she used the large kitchen apron tied around her to wipe away the tears that didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon.

            “I know,” came the automatic response as he continued to look around the kitchen in horror as he silently sent up a prayer asking to be spared from having to try any of this food.

            He’d do it with a smile if she asked him and lie his ass off while he prayed for death, because she meant everything to him and he couldn’t stand seeing her this upset. Even as he prayed that someone would spare him from playing Russian roulette with his life, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break for her.

            Even though it was obvious to everyone, including poison control, that she couldn’t bake to save her life, she never gave up. She was so determined to do something nice for them and instead, just ended up scaring them for life. For years, he’d stood behind her, encouraging her, testing her food when she asked him to, smiling through the agonizing pain, and lied his ass off, telling her that it was getting better with each attempt, but he knew that she never truly believed him.

            He just couldn’t stand the idea of seeing that excited light in her eye fade out because he was the one to take away all her hopes of one day being able to bake a simple fucking brownie. It killed him to see her like this and each and every time that he saw her try to hide how much it bothered her that she couldn’t get this right, he considered saying the hell with it and accept the fact that he would be sleeping on the couch for the rest of his life and telling her that her food was a fucking disaster. But, he could never force the words out of his mouth. He loved her too damn much and because she could probably kick his ass.

            “What do I keep doing wrong?” she asked, and he definitely knew better than to answer that, but for some reason, seeing her broken down like this, crying and looking on the verge of finally giving up, he said the one thing that he’d swore that he’d never tell her out of fear that he would let her down, but he knew that he no longer had a choice.

            He had to do it.

            So, closing his eyes and hoping that he didn’t end up regretting this, he finally admitted the shame that all Bradford men lived with.

            “I can teach you how to cook.”

To be continued…

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