I guess grief is just the price you pay for loving someone so much.
While it cools, I grab ingredients to make my signature vanilla icing. I grab my headphones from the counter and throw them on top of my head, putting on my favorite true crime podcast while I work. I mix the ingredients together, folding my melancholy in with each sweep of the whisk. It takes a while to get the icing to theperfectconsistency and the cake has cooled enough by the time I get it done. I watch as the pink slowly disappears beneath the white and thinkabout how it’s like my life, in a way. Seattle was the pink, the base of my existence and Driftbay is the icing, the fresh, white new slate.
I think the insomnia is starting to get to me but at least I can breathe a little easier.
I lick the knife as I absentmindedly stare at my finished creation, hearing Beth moving around in her bedroom getting ready for work. I cover the pan with tinfoil before turning the kitchen light off, taking one last look at the cake on the counter.
“Happy early birthday, Mom,” I whisper before going back to bed.
It’s later in the day before I’m up and getting ready to go see Beth and her gang compared to my normal visits. I’d fallen asleep quite easily after I baked the cake and slept until noon.
Grief is a bitch. You think you’re doing okay and then all of a sudden, it hits you like a wave, pulling you back under. It’s always the little things that hurt the most. Like today — I was putting my necklace back on after I woke up, when all of a sudden, the chain snaps, sending the peridot stone scattering across the hardwood floor. It took me ten minutes to find it. I can replace the chain but it won’t be the same. It’s just another piece of her that’s been taken from me.
My eyes are puffy from crying. I run my brush through my hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. I open the medicine cabinet and look for Beth’s eye cream. I find it and gently dab some on my under-eyes. I throw on some shorts and a tank top before sliding my feet into socks and my tennis shoes. I stop in the kitchen and grab the cake before heading out the door.
The air feels muggy and clings to my skin as I begin the familiar trek to the diner, wrestling the cake pan in my arms. It’s overcast today and the forecast is calling for rain — a storm is brewing on the coast. I mentally kick myself in the rear for not grabbing an umbrella before I left the house.
The parking lot isn’t nearly as full when I round the corner today, probably because I’m not coming in during a rush. I jog up the few steps in the front and reach for the doorknob. I’m grateful Beth keeps the air so low in the diner — due to her hot flashes, she says — as I open the door and am blasted by a gust of cool air.
Raquel waves from across the diner as she heads to the counter for a drink refill. I trot over to my usual barstool and set the cake pan down. Penny is standing there wiping down menus.
“Oooh, what do you have for us today?” Raquel asks as she fills a glass full of ice water.
“Strawberry cake with vanilla icing.” I take the tinfoil off and am dismayed to see that some of the icing is stuck to it.
Penny leans across the counter and slides her finger across the icing on the foil before bringing it to her lips. “Mmm,” she mumbles as she tastes it. “Fabulous, as always.”
“Thank you,” I say, beaming.
“Graham, I have told you to keep that surfboard OUTSIDE! Seriously, you get sand everywhere with that thing!”
The three of us turn in unison in the direction of Beth’s voice and see her chasing Graham through the restaurant towards the back room. He grins at us and waves as they barrel past us.
“Well,” Raquel says, “Graham’s here.”
Penny laughs, as if she isn’t stating the obvious.
“Are they always like this?” I ask, watching as Beth crosses the threshold to the back room behind him.
Raquel nods. “Pretty much.”
We hear commotion in the back, the door slamming, and then Graham’s voice declaring, “It’s outside, it’s outside!”
The two of them walk out of the back a moment later, Graham suppressing a grin and Beth looking aggravated. He’s tying a black apron around his waist.
“Hey,” I say as I meet Beth’s gaze.
“Hi,” she says, sounding a touch annoyed.
Graham looks up and smiles at me, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flutter unexpectedly.
Beth hurries off to take care of an elderly lady across the room. I observe her, taking in her sharp sense of style. She’s in a bright pink bedazzled top and has bangles lining her thin arms. I think it’s Judith. Beth has mentioned her eccentric style and dramatic flair before and this woman fits the description. Graham grabs a utensilpacket from the back counter and unrolls it, taking the fork and stabbing it into the cake pan.
“Mmm.” He nods approvingly after taking a bite. “Don’t tell your aunt I said this,” he says after he swallows, his voice low, “but this is way better than hers.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Penny warns, as if it’s a competition between me and Beth.
Graham holds both of his hands up in the air and says, “Hey, just speaking the truth.” He looks at his watch and adds, “Thea, it’s great to see you again but I’ve got to get to work. Brian is going to kill me if I’m another minute late.” He disappears into the kitchen, leaving Raquel, Penny, and I alone at the counter.
