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To continue living in denial for another few weeks.
I preheated the oven, checked my make-up in the hallway mirror for the last time, checked the tripod height, and hit the record button.I could trim out the footage of me walking to the kitchen island later.
“Hi everyone!Thanks for joining me all the way from Kentucky today!”I enthused, settling back into my favourite thing of all: baking.
I chatted as I worked.Subscribers said one of their most-loved things about my videos were how cooking along with me was like cooking with a friend.I talked about stuff other than the ingredients.Today I rambled on a bit about the flight here, the airplane food, and the kind attendant who’d resembled a young, hot celebrity.
I made sure to say a few times, “Don’t forget, the recipe will be posted in the comments, so don’t feel the need to rush this.And you can pause me anytime!I don’t mind at all!”
I always said this because some people, my own mother included, forgot about the pause function and tried to hurry along with the video.
By the time I was done, ending by showing off the finished cake, exhaustion dragged at my bones.I stopped recording and resolved to edit and post it later.I was too tired to do it justice now.
Besides, I still wasn’t completely over the jetlag, and there was one more thing I had to do.
I sat down with a cup of tea, replied to messages from some friends in London while I waited for the cake to cool a little, then parcelled some up in baking foil and walked it over to the house next door.The grass was soft under my feet and, for a second, I thought about how different this small southern town was to my own concrete jungle.
I knocked.No response.Then, after a few seconds, the upstairs window opened.
“Oh, hey!”Jenny shouted down, smiling.
“Hey,” I said, waving.“I have cake for you.”
“Oh, myGod!I’msoexcited!Thanks!Leave it on the step, would you?I’m changing a diaper.”The sound of wailing began and Jenny rolled her eyes, even though she was smiling.“That’ll be my treat for having to deal with the third kiwi poop today.It stinks!”
I winced and set the cake down.“Enjoy!”
“Thanks so much!”I could hear Toby squealing from inside when she called back to me.
Once back inside, I made myself edit the video, watched it while I drank tea, and then uploaded it to my channels.
Then, I slept the sleep of the heartbroken and jet-lagged.
ChapterFive
Tuesday morning dawned bright, and I felt better.A lovely follower had sent me an Instagram DM saying she’d baked the matcha Mississippi cake and loved it and that it had pleasantly reminded her of the matcha tea her Japanese grandmother used to drink.
That message warmed my heart.
My second favourite thing after baking was connecting with people who also loved to create.Messages like the one I’d had just now made me fizzy with happiness inside.It made me want to have my own space, a real one, not just an online shop, even though it had become very successful and allowed me to quit my long-hours hotel job.
My mum had also emailed with some pictures of her and my dad doingtheirfavourite thing: walking.They’d started walking holidays when I was a teen and they still regularly joined groups of other like-minded people in the wildernesses of the UK, if such a thing as “wilderness” could still be found in today’s world.
Rather them than me.My mum liked to joke that I’d been born on the wrong side of the family, seeing as all the bakers seemed to be over here in Kentucky.
I made coffee and replied to some of the order enquiries with a holding message, and then opened the kitchen patio doors to let some air in.The key turned easily; no rusty lock in a Victorian-era single glazed window here, thank you, America.I breathed in the morning.
In the distance, a dog barked.Someone mowed their lawn with a low, constant buzz.
It was small-town peaceful, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the sirens and city bustle a little bit.
I messaged Aunt Laurie to see if she’d be up for selling the leftover matcha Mississippi cake and some brownies today.She replied with a thumbs-up.
It was my plan to test my Asian-fusion baking out on the audience of this town and I really needed to get a move on with that.
It would let me see people enjoy my baking firsthand, after all.When you dropped off a cake at a wedding or party, you rarely got to see the eating of it.
It was still early, so I rummaged through my ingredients and remembered with delight that I had brought with me two jars of white miso paste, in case I had a craving, as I often did, for miso brownies.I briefly considered washing my hair and showering so I could film this as a video, but thought, “fuck it”.I did a video yesterday.I deserved a rest.
