The June holidays started, and in typical teenager fashion, the girl took it as permission to slack and rot before the TV. If not the TV, she rotted in her room.
Serena knew no studying was being done. But she didn’t know what could be done to get Alicia’s butt off the couch. Whatever the solution was, nagging and scolding weren’t it.
Still, she couldn’t bear to watch the girl throw her life away like this. She had to say something.
But what?
“The June holidays are here. You have a lot of free time now. Don’t waste it away by watching TV or playing games on your phone. I better be seeing you study later on.”
Alicia locked herself in her room.
Oh, forget it. If she couldn’t bear to watch, then maybe she should just look away.
It took a few weeks for Serena and Kelly to smoothen their workflow and solidify the routine. Things could now be done without constant questions and check-ins. This was most evident in the task of delivering, where they made an unspoken agreement to take turns with it.
Gen offered to spread word of their bakery to her circles. This exposed the social prowess Gen held, and led them to view her with new eyes. The social butterfly flapped its wings, and through the butterfly effect, created a hurricane of papparazzi for the bakery.
The bakery was now a known quantity.
Cheryl offered to do the same, but left little results. It only served to highlight Gen’s superpower more. Despite this, Cheryl found more pride in her influence than Gen, and couldn’t help but flaunt it, whilst claiming humility.
No one liked it, but it helped Cheryl understand their shift in priorities, which led her to give Serena lesser shifts.
There was a long list of things she hated about her job. Her colleagues were never on that list.
The men who matched her fell into three groups. Group one were automatic rejects from their gag-inducing introductions. Group two rejected her the moment they learnt she was a mother. Group three were the men with potential.
No one was in group three.
The apps were a dead end, clubs and bars were a no-go ever since rehab, and the few baking groups she found online prioritised networking over befriending. This disappointed her. They photographed their pastries with special care for cinematography; she ought to do the same. This lit her up.
All the inspiration she received whilst browsing led her to her next creative breakthrough: Cheesecake.
The typical cake with a sour kick to it, and a crust bottom that gave the mouth a variation in texture. Variation, she soon learnt, was the golden rule in the pastry world.
The first batch she made tonight was too sour and thick. It was like drinking peanut butter. The second had the opposite problem: no sourness. Un-crispy crust.
Before she had time to bake a third, it was her turn to deliver. It was a re-order, as the address brought her back to the forest green block again.
The first re-order she had. The first loyal customer she had.
Except, it wasn’t. Upon closer inspection, she realised the address was to a different floor. It seemed word had spread amongst the neighbours. She took the same lift, half-expecting the handsome cyclist to show up again. He didn’t.
Except he did. When she knocked on the customer’s door, he showed up. It was only in that moment that Serena noticed his bicycle by the corridor. He thanked her and invited her in.
“Thank you, but I can’t afford to stay. It’s already late.” She bowed. “Thanks for placing an order, though. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Do you make these all by yourself?”
“Mm! And keep a look out. There might be a new item on the menu soon.”
“Noted.” He took the container, passed her fifty dollars, and unboxed it. One bite, and he held the expression Serena aspired for: awe.
“Oh wow! These are great!” He nodded profusely, cupping one hand over his mouth to catch the falling crumbs.
“Thank you so much!”
“Jacob.” He wiped the crumbs off his hands and offered it.
“Serena.” She shook it. “Your bike looks quite professional.”
“Yeah, it’s a mountain bike. It can change gears and stuff.”
“Gears?”
“Let me show you.”
He finished the cookie, and began the rant. In great detail, he explained the purpose of every knob and switch, all functioning in a perfect symphony of efficiency. The structure of the bike, as elegant as it was ergonomic, fitted his body perfectly. It allowed him to cycle at a comfortable angle.
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It was the bike for him. Hence, the seven hundred dollar price tag was worth every penny.
She begged to differ, giving a list of items worth more of the same price off the top of her head: Vacuum cleaner, phone, dinner at a restaurant, new clothes… He took her willingness to listen and argue as an unspoken agreement to stay behind, hence now playing the part of a host. He offered her a glass of water.
Serena went against her better judgement and stayed behind. Upon stepping in, the first thing she saw was the dining table. Well, half of it. A landslide of keys, clothes, wires, bags and clothes buried the other half. Her glare held too much contempt that Jacob felt the need to apologise and clean up.
He gestured her to the couch whilst sweeping the landfill off the table, finding another corner to stuff it in. The coffee table didn’t fare any better. An empty soda can sat in an empty pizza box, wrapped in several plastic bags. Jacob cleaned that next.
“Sorry, it’s been ages since I had a guest. Usually, it’s just me.”
“It’s okay.” All this was her biggest pet peeve, and she hid that behind a smile.
She had to remind herself to make small talk. “You aren’t married? Or dating anyone?”
No, Jacob answered. His relationships never lasted beyond a year, and he didn’t know why. He could only shrug. That shrug, though, was all Serena needed to understand.
Then, it was her turn to share: Alicia’s cold shoulder. Alicia’s declining grades. Alicia’s loss of her identity as a good girl. She stopped at the fifth bullet-point to spare Jacob the boredom.
“Teenagers, right?” He chuckled, “But what about you?”
It was an odd question, and it took a second for her to process it. She only had the bakery to share, but he already knew about it.
“That’s it, really. I’m a pretty boring person.” She laughed painfully.
“Not dating anyone either?”
“No. I had a…bad experience last time. I’ve only recently got back into it. But, no luck so far.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What does Alicia think about it?”
My god. She hadn’t even considered that. But why should she? This was her life, not Alicia’s. Yet Alicia hovered over her like Cheryl at work, tying her up in red tape. Anything she did first required a green-light.
Alicia, meanwhile, did whatever she wanted despite the red light. Serena couldn’t even blame her, because Alicia was still a child. She, the mother, should put her child first, as mothers do.
Jacob put on a movie and shared the cookies with her. He placed one foot up and spread his arms wide. Every ten minutes, he’d ask her some ice-breaker question: ‘What kind of music do you like?’. ‘Where did you learn to bake?’, ‘What’s your favourite movie?’
None of her answers gave enough momentum to start a conversation. The silence permeated until the movie reached the obligatory hospital scene. This brought her to top speed as she nitpicked the scene to hell.
All the inconsistencies, the missing details, the comedically simple solution that none of these supposed medical professionals noticed.
Jacob agreed in uproarious laughter.
This ended when she criticised the director, which struck a nerve in him. In mock outrage, he defended the narrative, explaining the hidden artistry behind these supposed errors, and the sheer brilliance of the filmmaking that she missed.
They argued like children at the playground. Laughed like them too.
When Serena checked the time, three hours had passed. Her eyes popped out of their sockets, and she rushed to pack her things. “Oh my god, it’s almost midnight! I’m so sorry, Jacob, I have to go.”
He offered to walk her. She politely declined. He politely insisted. She politely accepted.
Chivalry wasn’t dead after all. They reached the carpark and found her car tucked in the corner.
“This was fun.” He smiled, flashing his dimples, “We should do this again sometime.”
“Yeah, when I have the time.”
“Guess I’ll have to make another order.”
“It’s the best way to reach me!” She joked.
“Good night.”
“Night. Thank you Jacob. It was really nice to meet you.” She clicked her seatbelt on. “I hope you find someone.”
“You too. And I hope things get better with Alicia.”
“Me too.”
She watched him until he entered the lift before driving home.
Until now, tt didn’t occur to her how much she missed not being a mother.
She perfected the recipe tomorrow evening and delighted herself with cheesecake for dessert. Kelly got to work making the posters, whilst Serena got to work making a fourth for Jacob. On the house, at his house.
Once finished packing, she braced herself. The girl was lying on the couch with her feet in the air, and arms dangling out.
“Alicia, did you revise your studies today?”
Alicia turned inward, hiding her face in the cushion.
“I have something to discuss with you. I’m considering dating again. I think it’s time I stop feeling sad for myself and put myself out there again. What do you think?”
Nothing.
“Alicia, I know you don’t want to talk to me, and that’s fine.” It wasn’t. “But if I do date someone, there’s a chance that he could become your new dad. I need to know how you feel about all this.”
Nothing.
“Please. I wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t important. I’m already giving you all the space you need.”
Nothing.
“Ugh! Fine. I’m taking your silence as a ‘yes’. You can’t complain later and say I didn’t listen to you, because I gave you a chance to speak up. You only have yourself to blame if you continue to keep quiet.”
Alicia perked up at last. The best-case scenario was approval. The worst-case scenario could range from a ‘No’ to screaming and punching her own head.
Alicia gave neither.
“I want an official diagnosis for autism!” The girl exclaimed, revealing a slip of paper from nowhere, “This private clinic specialises in diagnosing autism spectrum disorders. You can book an appointment on their website!”
Clinic? Diagnosis? Autism? What?
“Mmm…” Alicia whined like a kettle. Tears welling in her eyes.
She shrieked and slammed her door shut.