Everything
is nothing until you make it into something; that’s what Nina loves about
baking. Flour doesn’t taste like much until combined with a few other things
and then put into a very, very hot box. The next time you see it, it has
completely transformed; it has become something that people will lust over and
praise you for. While it’s technically the product of chemistry, Nina prefers
to think of it as the closest thing humans have to magic. To her, the knowledge
of how to build this food is the most sacred that we have and have passed down.
Following the steps of a recipe is merely invoking it once again.
She
hears the argument rumbling down the stairs before she can make out any
specific words. Her father’s voice rumbles like he’s part bulldog, and her
mother is all high-pitched squealing and uncompromising wit. Nina dips the
whisk into the bowl of dry ingredients sitting in front of her and begins to
stir. White powder into more white powder; it looks like nothing because it
still is nothing. Nina realizes she’s left her ring on when a cloud of flour
puffs up. Tiny granules of it find their way into the flawed diamond. She pulls
it off and drops it into her pocket.
“I
just don’t understand why you have to go today,” her mother says. “It doesn’t
make sense.”
“You’re
only saying that because it wasn’t your idea,” her father says. “If it was your
job to keep the school running, you wouldn’t want me to complain about it.”
“But
it’s Saturday,” her mother says. “Can’t you wait until tomorrow?”
Nina
walks the short distance to the fridge and grabs the butter. She warms it with
the palms of her hands and then unwraps it and drops it into the mixing bowl.
Pouring the sugar in after the butter, Nina turns on the mixer and steps back
to let it do its work.
“.
. . besides, I’ll get in trouble if I leave it until tomorrow,” she hears her
father say.
“Who
will know?” her mother says.
Nina
hears a familiar clapping sound and knows her father has let his hands flop to
his sides in a dramatic, helpless gesture. “There are people all over that
school all the time,” he says. “If something happens, chances are I won’t be
the first person to know.”
Her
mother’s voice drops, and Nina doesn’t hear what she says next. Nina steps forward
and turns off the mixer. She scrapes the sides of the bowl and then goes to the
fridge to get the milk. While she measures it out with the other wet
ingredients, she hears her parents’ conversation continue.
“Please,
John,” her mother says, “it’s Daisy’s birthday.”
Nina
doesn’t see her father roll his eyes, but she knows instinctively that he does
this. He starts to respond, “I told you, I have to—“
“Go
to the school, I know,” her mother says. “But we both know that’s not where
you’re going.”
Nina
whisks the wet ingredients until they begin to come together. “That’s such
bullshit, and you know it,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” Nina hears the door
open. She pours a third of the dry ingredients into the mixing bowl.
“John—“
her mother says, but the door slams before she gets out the rest. Nina hears
her sigh, and the silence that follows is harder to listen to than the
argument. She sets the mixer on a lower setting and alternates between adding
the wet and dry ingredients to the bowl.
“Nina,
love?” her mother says as she walks into the room.
“Yeah,
mom?” Nina says without looking up.
“How
is the cake coming?”
“Good,
mom,” Nina says. “I think it’ll be good.”
She
looks over to see her mother nodding.
“Don’t
worry about it,” Nina says.
“I’m
not,” her mother says. “I’m not worried about it.”
Nina
stops the mixer to add the last of the dry ingredients and fold them in. She
notices that her mother’s fingers have started to rap the counter. Nina glances
from the skeletal hand to her mother’s face. She never realized it before, but
her mother has excellent cheekbones. Her dark brown eyes set over those
carved-out features gives her a hawk-like look. Nina starts to feel sick, so
she focuses on dividing the cake batter between cake pans.
“Daisy’s
going to have a good birthday, mom,” she says. “Don’t worry about that,
either.”
Her
mother snaps out of her trance. “Why would you say that?” she says. “Why would
I be worried?”
Nina
quickly shakes her head. “No reason.”
“Good,
good, because nothing is wrong. We’re going to have a wonderful day.”
Nina
slips the cakes pans into the oven and says nothing.
~
When
Nina puts on her dress for the party, she feels an exhaustion that she hasn’t
experienced in a long time. Maybe not since her senior trip in high school,
when her entire class went to the local amusement park. Nina, like everyone
else, had insisted she was too old for the trip and was just using it as an
excuse to not be in class. However, as soon as they got there, the seniors dispersed
as though they had never been to such a paradise before. The day flew by in a
haze of funnel cake, sunscreen, and wooden rollercoasters, and when the new
adults climbed back onto the bus at the end of the day, it all felt like a
dream. The final strains of their responsibility-free youth had been pushed
through their pores, and everyone was left feeling spent and wondering what had
just happened.
This
is the exhaustion that Nina feels now. Her feet hurt from standing all day, her
shoulders are stiff from the posture of uncertainty, and her knees are about to
buckle underneath her. She struggles to zip up the back of her dress by herself.
It is different now, though; When she was on that bus, she had the hopefulness
that is an eighteen-year-old surrounded by friends, four years of college in
front of her.
She
pulls at the dress’s skirt and then exits the room she shares with her little
sister. Daisy almost runs into her as soon as she crosses the threshold.
“Careful,” Nina says, holding
out her hands as if to stop her. But Daisy can’t be stopped. She pushes Nina
out of the way and runs into the backyard. The doorbell rings and Nina goes to
answer it.
“Hi!”
she says, hoping her enthusiasm will mask the fact that she has no idea who she
is talking to.
“Hi!”
a blonde woman says back. She pushes her daughter into the house, past Nina.
“Um,
come on in,” Nina says. She smiles and tries to remember where she has seen
this woman before.
“Oh,
you have a . . . lovely home,” the woman says. She glances from the rip in the
couch to the worn carpet in the hallway.
“Thank
you,” Nina says. She scratches her elbow.
“Where
should I put this?” the woman says, handing Nina a beautifully-wrapped pink
present.
“Oh, I’ll take it,” Nina says. She turns and
the woman lets herself into the house. Nina watches as she crosses to the back
door and slides it open. Nina sets the present on the mantle over the fireplace
and walks into the kitchen. She wrings her hands and puts one on the fridge.
Then she hears the doorbell again.
“Nina?”
her mom yells from across the house.
“Mom?”
“Can
you get that?”
Nina
glances at the counter. She goes to the fridge and pulls out the platter of
celery and carrots. “I can’t, mom, I’m busy.”
She
hears her mother swear as she makes her way to the door. Her mother never had
the patience to learn how to walk in heels, so her feet make a comforting
clomping sound on the hardwood floors. Then silence falls as she prepares
herself to greet the next mom.
The
door opens. “Hi, guys!” her mother says.
“Hi,
Cathy, how are you?” a startlingly deep voice responds.
“I’m
doing well, thank you,” her mother says. Nina squeezes her eyelids closed.
“Come on in.” The door shuts again.
Nina
hears her mother come into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” she says.
Nina
wraps her fingers around the sides of the platter. “I’m . . .”
“Take that out to the
backyard!” her mother says. Nina grabs the plate and carries it outside. She
sets it on the table and anxiously glances around the party. She doesn’t have a
peer in sight. Nina feels the sweat drip down her spine and her bare legs start
to itch. She pulls her heel out of her shoe and rubs it against the opposite
ankle. Then she hears it: a blood-curdling scream fills the yard and Nina’s
eyes latch onto the source of the noise.
Her
sister is lying on the ground, clutching her leg. Her black hair is spread out
underneath her like a spider. Her enchanting green eyes are scrunched closed in
pain, although she isn’t crying. Nina runs towards her.
Daisy
is screaming, not she isn’t screaming words. “Daisy, what happened?” Nina says,
but she can see for herself. There is a long gash running down the middle of
her sister’s leg, and Nina feels the urge to lean down and try to close it up
with her hands. She looks around, but can’t find the cause of the accident.
“What
happened?” she says again. Then, “I’ll get mom.”
Nina
stands up and feels the blood rush to her head. She takes a few steps towards
the house, and then stops before she reaches the back door. Here, she leans to
the left and vomits the entire contents of her stomach into the bushes. Then
she heads inside.
“Mom!”
Nina screams. She can hear her voice crack. “Daisy’s hurt! She needs you! Mom!”
Her
mother appears from the hallway. “What?”
“Daisy’s
hurt! She’s needs a doctor, or something! She’s bleeding!”
“Oh
my god!” Nina’s mother runs past her and into the yard where Daisy is laid out.
Nina can feel the fear run though her, but her mother is surprisingly steady.
She turns to one of the women present. “Call an ambulance.” The woman pulls out
her phone. “Nina?”
“Yeah,
mom?” Nina says. The tears are starting to leak from Daisy’s eyes, and Nina
looks away so she doesn’t follow suit.
“Go
get your father,” her mother says.
“What?
But, mom—“
“Just
go do it.”
Despite
everything, an awkward silence stirs between them. “At the school?” Nina says.
Her
mother looks up and into her eyes. “You know perfectly well where he is,” she
says.
Nina
nods and turns to go. When she reaches the back door, Nina hears the other
mother say, “An ambulance is on its way.”
~
Nina
isn’t sure if it makes her sadder that the bar is virtually empty. She hasn’t been
here many times, but as soon as she walks in, the bartender makes eye contact
with her and nods. There are a few cracked barstools that line the counter, as
well as a booth that looks like it hasn’t been scrubbed down in weeks. The
light is dim the way it is in bad cop movies. Nina makes her way to the end of
the bar to where her father sits.
“Dad,”
she says. He doesn’t look up. “Dad,” she says again. He still doesn’t look up.
She walks forward and climbs onto the barstool next to him. The bartender walks
over and puts a glass of water in front of her. Then he retreats.
Nina
puts her hand on her father’s arm. “Dad,” she says, “you need to come home.
Daisy’s hurt.”
Her
father looks at her, and at first his expression is horror. But as he surveys
her, his lips slowly crack into a smile. “What do you mean?” he says.
“Daisy
did something at her party, and when I left she was bleeding all over the
yard.”
His
smile doesn’t falter. “But Daisy’s so little. What could have happened at her
birthday party?”
Nina
picks up her glass and takes a large sip. Then she says, “Dad. Listen to me.
You need to come home.”
He leans forward onto the bar
and rubs his forehead with his hand. “Yeah,” he says.
She
wants to slap him. “Dad, I’m not kidding.” Still he doesn’t move from his
barstool. “Dad, I’m not fucking around. You really need to come home. Now.”
His
head snaps to the right. “Don’t use that kind of language around your father,”
he says.
“I’ll
use whatever kind of language I want,” she says.
His
eyes flash. “Not around me.”
“Fine,”
she says. “Then come home and punish me, or whatever. Just come home.”
He
reaches forward and strokes the sides of the pint in front of him. “I don’t
think I can,” he says.
“You
can,” Nina says. “Now get up.”
“You
don’t understand,” he says. “There’s so much—“
“I don’t care!” Nina says. “I
don’t care about your life problems or your marital issues or your midlife
crisis. I care that my sister is gushing blood in our backyard, and you don’t
seem to give a shit.”
Her
father stares at her. His cheeks turn red.
“So
are you coming, or not?” Nina says.
Her
father says nothing. He swallows and looks down at the bar in front of him.
Nina
stands up. “I don’t have time for this. We’ll be in the ER. You’ll regret this
when you sober up,” she says.
She
turns and walks towards the exit. She makes eye contact with the bartender, who
nods at her. Her hands barely feel the door when she throws it open.
~
Her
mom texts her from the emergency room as Nina drives back home. Things are
relatively under control, but she needs her as soon as possible. Can she grab
Daisy’s stuffed giraffe and a few other things from the house before heading
over? Nina agrees and gets to it.
The
house is eerily empty for being so colorfully decorated. The food that she and
her mom set out is still in the process of being disturbed, even though no one
is left to eat it. Purple streamers sag over the doorway to the kitchen,
embarrassed that they are left without anyone to notice them. Nina runs to her
sister’s room and grabs the stuffed animal in question. Then she collects the
few other things her mom requested and heads to the kitchen. She drops
everything on the counter and goes to get a bag from under the sink. Nina
quickly packs it and throws it over her shoulder. Then she goes to the fridge
to get a couple cold bottles of water.
When
she opens it, she freezes. There, staring back at her, is the cake she spent
all day making and decorating. It mocks her with its rounded edges and garish
yellow frosting. She is tempted to take a chunk of it in her hand and throw it
to the floor. But no, her sister might remember it later and want it. There is
no point in being wasteful; This has been a tough enough birthday as it is.
Still,
the cake feels like an unexpected weight in her stomach. She reaches forward
and pushes it farther back into the fridge. Somehow, this move makes the nausea
subside a little. Nina slams the fridge closed. She is out the door and back in
her car in thirty seconds. It’s difficult to remember to drive slowly.
That
bright yellow cake is still in the back of her mind as Nina nears the ER,
though. Learning to bake was the moment Nina realized the power at her
fingertips. She has control over this magic of chemistry; she can cobble
together joy by combining what doesn’t naturally exist side by side. Nina
contains this old knowledge and calls it back when things are hard. Everything
is nothing until you make it into something.
