Watch It As It Lays

First Year: An Invitation

July 20th, 1991,

Casey clamored down the stairs one early summer morning. She pushed open the swinging door from the stars into the pastry kitchen. The sound of Clamoring customers bargaining for the best price hit her right in the face. The smell of bagels and pickles filled her lungs. Home, it smelled like home.

She went through the kitchen into the Cafe. The Sunday, nine am rush was flooding through. Overworked mothers had their children hanging from every surface of their bodies. Groups of men on their morning walk laughed from the tables. Old women gossiped in every available corner, while Casey's family bustled around at the register. Her father was shelving Challah bread while her mother was ringing up old Ms. Goldman.

She had her chores to do so she packed some orders coming through. She counted in her head three loaves of Challa, dozen rugelach, six hamantashen. She packed up the order and called number 34.

He came sauntering through the bustle hopping foot to foot having trouble walking over his chubby frame.

"Good morning Mr. Mushick!" He was a usual customer who got the same thing every day.

"Ah yes good morning dear, is everything in order?"

"Yes sir!" she exclaimed. Casey rang him up

"fantastic, see you tomorrow," He said as he waved goodbye.

Casey had been only allowed to work behind the counter since her eleventh birthday, which was just a couple of months ago in March. She had lived with the Wexlers for five years already since she was six. They were nothing but fantastic.

The Wexler's ran a small kosher bakery on 12 Chapel Market right in the middle of London. Ilena and Jared (her adopted parents) fell immediately in love with her when they saw her at the orphanage. They were an older couple who were never able to have children on their own. But that meant that they offered Casey every ounce of love that they had.

Jared was a good man. His father had immigrated here from Poland when he was a boy and he built the Bakery up on his own. Ilena was a short but muscular woman. She was very much a Jewish mother. She was fierce if you crossed her but she loved even harder. They were a happy family together.

The apartment that they lived in above the bakery was a perfect place to grow up. It wasn't spacious by any means but it was home. Casey finally had a family that she had always wanted. She spent five years in the orphanage. They weren't bad by any means. She got what she needed there. They fed her, kept her clean, and offered a place to rest her head, but it wasn't home. it was an all-girls home and she'd have fun times there. It was like an all-day play date but little six-year-old Casey was of course happy to be going home.

"Casey! Stop daydreaming and go take the babka out of the oven!" Her mother came out of the kitchen with a stack of boxes up to her chin.

"Right away mother," Casey giggled as she flew past. She went into the kitchen where her father was rolling out the doh for tomorrow's challah batch.

"Hi, Papa!" Casey called as she walked over to the big industrial oven in the corner of the kitchen.

"Good morning my dear., he replied, "Did you finish the orders for the Wizenfelds wedding?"

"Um no, but it's on the schedule for today," Casey replied.

Jared mumbled something like, "okay good, get to it," but then he got back to work.

She went back into the cafe and did her rounds through the tables. She picked up dishes and checked on guests. She was just dumping the used dishes in the pin beside the counter when spotted the strange man sitting in the cafe beside the counter.