Five Words

Chapter 1

~Cher

Baked cookies of every kind, of every color, of every flavor, lay across the countertops. There are so many types, from typical chocolate chip to exotic. Their aroma overpowers every other scent that lingers in the kitchen. The cookies are made with such precision and precaution that you can hardly keep yourself from reaching out and grabbing one to taste. It is so very tempting for me to keep my hands to myself while my mother arranges them in circular patterns on colorful trays. My mouth waters as I imagine myself indulging in this decadent pleasure, to have the chocolate pleasure my tongue. My mind wanders off a way in which I can take one without my mother noticing, but she is always too attentive.

That never stops me from trying, I think to myself.

I hum softly and walk around the counter, my hands behind my back, my eyes rake over the cookies hungrily trying to decide which one appealed more to me. I decide to taste my creations. The scent lingers, inviting me, begging me to taste it. The topmost layer is the most perfect shade of amber, the chocolate chips embedded between the dough. My hand absently moves forward to bring this masterpiece to my awaiting mouth.

"Cher." My mother says in a warning tone.

Her back is to me, and I curse and wonder how can she sense what I am about to do.

"Ma joulie maman, please let me have one. I made them..." I whine annoyingly, knowing that she hates it when I do so.

"Cher..." She sighs, "You know that today I give the customers free cookies in honor of your return. We want to give them all out." She stresses the word all, reminding me of my misery.

"I deserve one. I just graduated high school. Please give me one." I cross the kitchen space and wrap my arms around her figure. "Please, just one. One won't make that big of a difference."

"Fine, one--"

I plant a kiss on her cheek, squealing from happiness. I run back to the counter and my fingers dip under the cookie so gently for it to stay intact. I raise my hand and bring the cookie right under my nose, sniffing the delicious aroma. My patience is cut short and I can't handle it anymore and I take the first bite. I moan as a delightful flavor floods my mouth, and my senses are basked in its luscious taste. There is a friable crunch and when it enters my mouth, it crumbles and melts on the inside so deliciously, it tingles my taste buds.

"Est-ce bein? Is it good?" She smiles sweetly at me.

"It is heavenly." I moan again as I take another bite.

She doesn't say anything further, and she goes back to placing them in different patterns and shapes.

She does this every year when I come back from Washington. We bake cookies for everyone who comes into our bakery, even if they didn't buy. She loves when I come home, and she decides to be generous to everyone. Our bakery fills up with people in no time whenever she puts the sign out on the door. The whole town knows how good our bakery is, how good the cookies, the tarts, the cakes, the bread loaves, literally everything. Ever since I can remember, my mother bakes, and I have never seen a day pass without her at least baking a batch of whatever sweets she decides. And since I am the only one who is there from the very beginning, she decided to name the place, La boulangerie d'Cher, Cher's Bakery. All the skills I obtain now, are because of her. I love sticking around whenever I saw her in the kitchen. I watch very closely and pay attention to every single detail so that I can catch up. Thankfully, I became almost as good as my mother and she allows me to help her around the kitchen during the summer.

Before I graduated, I attended high school in Washington. I stay with my grandmother all year and I end my school year earlier than everyone else by taking my exams a month before them, but this year I had to stay till the end because I was graduating, and my mother came to Washington to attend my graduation. And every summer, I leave everything behind me and come to Rochefort-en-Terre, France. It is my mother's home town and she never wishes to leave it. How can she? It is the most beautiful town on the face of the planet. I wish I can live here forever with her, but there are no good schools here, let alone colleges. And because of my mother's everlasting love for Rochefort-en-Terre, my mother decided to stay in France, rather than staying with me at my grandmother's house.