Another Broken Smile

12- The Key to my Heart

I lower the spoon into the pan and a sizzling noise erupts into the room as the batter touches the pan. The smell of the soon to be  golden pancakes spreads across the kitchen, a welcomed delight on the cold winter day. A blue apron hangs loosely around my pearly white dress underneath and my hair threatens to fall out of the messy bun on top of my head but even then, a wide smile breaks onto my face.

I have always loved cooking, a passion I inherited from my mom. I used to play with the dough she made and I helped bake cakes and cookies with her as a kid. I wasn't able to help much but the anticipation of creating something always excited me. The delight of cooking stayed within me, etched onto my memories even after mom  left.

The happy memories of my mother somehow make me feel like she never left, makes me want to sprint and find homage in her warm arms as she embraces me in her motherly arms filled with love and comfort. Somehow she still seemed like the last ray of sunshine in this dysfunctional demonic house.

The other times when I remember the painful nights I cried myself to sleep as a six year old anger booms into me, how could she leave me alone at the tender age of six when I needed her the most? How could she? Why hadn't she contacted me in all these years? Does she even care or even remember that she had a daughter? The rebellions I had  when I became a teenager are etched into my memory because most of them resulted in suffocating nights in a small sized cupboard or lashings that were too painful. Why wasn't she with me when I had my first crush, my first kiss or my first heart break? I never had her hold me during the years of  puberty to tell me that what I looked like didn't matter. I never had her advising me about boys or telling me that I looked like a princess on the night of my junior prom. I never had her by my side...why, what had I done to deserve all that pain?

I shake my head in order to rid my thoughts of the memories. My eyes seem glassy and I quickly blink my eyes to prevent the tears from falling out. I place the pancakes on different plates and set them on the table adding a spoon of frozen yogurt, maple syrup and pecans on the heavenly pancakes. Just then a chime sounds throughout the house. Meghan walks down the stairs, her heels clicking loudly to welcome our guests.

A man in his mid-forties enters. He has a dark blue coat on above a white shirt paired with black trousers. His eyes are a familiar shade of blue. He has kindness radiating from him. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at me in acknowledgement before he takes a seat beside Meghan as she urges his to start having the pancakes.

"You look beautiful today" he compliments Meghan

"Well thank you" she says giggling like a high school girl. I roll my eyes and continue with my work as they chatter in low voices and continue their breakfast. Soon Carla and Carol also join the breakfast table dressed in short pan-tone honeysuckle colored dresses. I roll my eyes at their similar appearances.

Our kitchen is modern and classy. It has an open kitchen concept which makes it possible for the people sitting on the dining table to have a view of the kitchen. The stove is directly placed opposite to the table giving access to easy passing of dishes and spoons. I personally love it because the smell of delicious food lingers around the house for the longest time.

"So darling what's your name?" Meghan's colleague asks, snapping me out of my thoughts

"I'm Ellie" I say giving the man a tight lipped smile

"I'm Mr. Jones" he says sticking out his hand for me to shake. As I stand behind the counter in order to whip up more pancakes, I walk forward to shake his hand gently.

"My son must be searching for a parking, it was a challenging task in itself, but, I got him to come for this quick breakfast before he heads to school. Which school do you go to?" he asks me