Absolution

Chapter One

July 24th, 2010

"Cinnamon, Lavender and fresh linen"

Mother always says one can always find comfort in familiar things. These are my go-to things; the taste of cinnamon—sweet and tangy, the color lavender– soothing and nonthreatening, and the smell of fresh linen. An odd combination when placed together but they work for me.

I've put mother's theory to test dozens of times. The first time was at Nancy Chen's eighth birthday party. Nancy's birthday was in November, the last of all the birthday's in the cul-de-sac. If I didn't know better I would have said Nancy's ever so over-the-top mother had planned that as well.

Everything Sabrina Yin Chen had to be perfect. Hers was the biggest house in the cul-de-sac. All the houses and accompanying yards were pretty much the same size but that was not good enough for Sabrina. Shed convinced her husband to have their house extended. It was the first house and as such, "the big bricked house" was the landmark for most of my childhood. Her house was always orderly but that was to be expected given that she had two maids and a nanny for Nancy. Her husband had the best job of the father's and their daughter Nancy was a prim and proper know-it-all that spoke four languages fluently by the time she was seven and had pitch black perfectly brushed shiny hair, rosy cheeks and the latest shoes in all the available colors.

The advantage of having her birthday last was that Nancy's mother had attended all of ours and had watched with a condescending smile as our balloons had flown away, cakes had fallen and gotten smashed before it was time to sing the birthday song and a piñata had caught fire – don't ask. I mean all the parents started off hoping to outdo the last party and needless to say, they all failed miserably and by the time it was November, everyone knew their parties were going to be outdone by the Chen's.

We'd all head for the party with high expectations but they would still be blown out of the water either way. This particular party had a chocolate fountain and a dozen gravity defying ballerina's serving our drinks and snacks. Everything was going so well until it was time for Nancy to blow off the candles on her four tier cake. We all gathered in the unnecessarily huge sunken living room and waited quietly for Nancy's surprise. I would have been happy to see her receive yet another giant dollhouse but this time the surprise was a Chubby Cherry, the Clown.

Immediately I spotted the hideous round faced clown I looked at my mother in panic. She knew, as well as everyone at the party that I was afraid of clowns. From her spot by the door she signaled for me to breathe in and out deeply. She was too far to come to me and I was too scared to move a muscle. The other children were delighted with the surprise since a clown had not been seen in our area for years since word got round that I was afraid of them. My worst fear came to life when Cherry turned to ask me what animal I wanted him to make from the balloons. I froze. I felt the life leaving my body. My mother was still signaling for me to breathe and as I did I remembered her words and the 'familiar things' came to mind. I didn't realize it but I was rocking back and forth and it was working until Chubby Cherry touched my arm. I became paralyzed on the spot and what happened next gave me the nickname "Messy Bethy" throughout middle-school.

Over the years, my familiar things had treated me better than that first time. They kept my hands steady while I gave my valedictorian speech at my high-school graduation; they kept the nerves away during my first interview and helped me keep my composure as my father walked me down the aisle.

Today is my first wedding anniversary and I'm calling on all the calming things to help me make just one casserole and even that is too much to ask.

"Crappers in hell." I sigh and toss the fourth casserole into the bin.

I can see my mother shaking her head at me.

"Those are all my good years you're throwing into that bin, Bethany Rose." She would say.

She always did take things personal. Most daughters would call their mothers and ask for them where they were going wrong with the dish. Not me. My mother believed she raised me better than to call her after 6 PM asking about casserole. My phone beeps and I reach for it.

"Dinner at 8?" It's my husband. My savior, Richard. He knows I can't cook to save my life and he's come to my rescue!