Page 174 of Spicy Ever After
“Are you learning how to bake stuff?” Maddie asks.
“I learned how to make empanadas this week. They have ten different fillings. My favorite is mango.
Not gonna lie, Mango empanadas sound pretty good.
“Tomorrow, Gomez will teach me how to make canastas.”
“What’re those?” I blurt, mouth already watering.
“It’s a Mexican sweetbread. Sort of like a Danish shaped like a cupcake.” His expression turns dreamy. “They have ten different flavors of those too.”
Hot damn. A Mexican Danish-cupcake?!
“This place is just around the corner?” I ask. We get free time. Lots of it. Clearly, I need to make a trip to Juanita’s.
Charlie laughs. “Yeah. They are open until nine p.m. We can all walk down for dessert tonight if you guys want to.”
All of the groupies agree. Me included. No way am I missing a field trip to this wonderland.
“Have you always enjoyed baking?” This question is also mine.
Charlie pushes his glasses up his nose, grinning huge. “I’ve never baked anything before in my life.”
This time my jaw does drop. “Well—then—how—” I can’t even successfully form my question.
“When Mark went over the results from my career assessments, he identified that early morning work in a quiet environment would be a good fit.” Charlie ducks his head and pushes his glasses up his nose. “As would a job that was predictable and allowed me to work with my hands.”
I think about those criteria. An early shift in a bakery checks all the boxes. But was that his only option? What if he had celiac disease?
“Did you get a list of other possible fits?” I’m already worrying about my own results. I can’t imagine my assessment will yield a ton of them, but I hope there’s more than one.
“Oh, yeah. Landscaping, security, stocking, factory assembly,” he lists. “Things like that. Working in a bakery just sounded the most… I don’t know… rewarding.”
I can see that. Ending your shift with a display case full of baked goodies would feel rewarding. It would also feel delicious.
And who doesn’t love a baker? Seriously. Everyone leaves a bakery full of delight. Unless they’re assholes.
It isn’t until the others laugh that I realize I’ve blurted this aloud.
Before I know it, Gwen is wrapping up the ninety-minute meeting, and I realized I’ve just survived my first group therapy session.
And I liked it. A lot.
In one way or another, I can relate to each of the five other residents, and I’m looking forward to learning things about myself that they seemed to have discovered here.
With a little time before lunch, I head back to my room.
For the first time since I arrived, I’m not actively pissed off. I can’t think about my parents without feeling like I’m holding a red-hot branding iron of resentment, but I’m not really thinking about them right now.
I’m thinking about that session.
And I’m thinking about my phone tucked beneath my bras and underwear in the top dresser drawer.
And I’m thinking about how I want to call Beck and tell him everything that’s happened in the last few days.
But I can’t do that if I never want him to know, either.
I know I shouldn’t, but I open the drawer and rifle through it. I’d made the wise decision to power off my phone when I checked in last night. Even when I had it silenced, feeling it buzz every time Beck texted or called was a maddening temptation.
