Until Dahlia Blooms

06

Dahlia࿐

"Nathan, what is that?" Ms Alterio asked, her voice low and her eyebrows knitted together in silent frustration.

Nathan stopped slicing the apple midway to look up at his mother with wide eyes. I laughed inwardly at his expression. He knew he had screwed up.

"What is it? What did I do?"

Ms Alterio sighed. "That's too thick. Look." She took the knife from his hands and began to demonstrate how to cut thinner slices of the apple. "See, you have to do it this way. Use your strength."

"I think the knife isn't sharp," he protested from beside her.

"No, it is sharp enough. Your strength isn't enough," Ms Alterio argued with a chuckle, before handing the knife to me. "Look, I'm sure Dahlia can do it."

"You know, that's the third time you've embarrassed me in front of Lia today," Nathan grumbled, his eyes smiling contrastingly.

It was always like this on the Family Time day in the Alterio household. Ms Alterio loved to make fun of Nathan. And this was why I loved to come by his place because their bond was so genuine and entertaining you can't help but feel your spirits lift up just being with them.

Blushing profusely at the compliment--receiving a compliment from Ms Alterio was like a gold trophy--I jutted my chin smugly at Nathan and began slicing up the apple. Making sure the knife was angled at the right width, I brought the knife down--cutting equally sized thin strips of the fruit.

"Good job, Dahlia!" she exclaimed, smiling widely. "Next, we prepare the filling." She placed a large bowl upon the counter to which she added sugar, flour, salt, lemon zest, cinnamon and began mixing them. She then added the sliced up apple pieces along with lemon juice and tossed it all until combined. It was now time to let the apples sit in the mixture for about ten minutes.

We heard the landline ringing from the living room and Ms Alterio let out a groan of frustration before rising to her feet. "These are the times I wish phones would grow legs and come wobbling over to you," she grumbled, striding off towards the living room.

I popped an apple slice from the bowl of excess pieces and glanced up, holding another slice out to Nathan. But it seemed like Nathan had other plans than eating a slice of apple.

Like getting his butt kicked by me.

Because the moment I looked up, he clapped his hands--which held a handful of flour--together. The flour billowed in the air, painting me white.

It took a moment for me to register what had happened, but the second I did, I glared at him furiously. "What the hell was that for?"

"You look like a cake," he commented, his lips pursed together trying to stifle a laugh.

Is he twenty-one or just two? You may never know.

"Come here." I beckoned with my index finger as I grabbed a fistful of flour from the pack of flour that lay on the counter. "I think there's a mosquito on your cheek. Let me kill it."

He shook his head vigorously, hands flying to cover his cheeks, his face immediately changing to that of regret. "No thanks, I'm good."

"You sure?" I tilted my head to the left, arching an eyebrow with an evil sneer. I extended my hand towards him, my fist just inches away from his face.

But what happened next wasn't what I had expected. Instead of preparing to be slapped in the face with flour, he grabbed a tissue, extending it and wiping my cheek.