Carlotta’s Cookies

Carlotta was depressed after failing her geometry test. Geometry! It is so simple: triangles of various shapes, little angles, large angles, lines every which way. How could she have flunked it? Her mind ran in tiny circles like those one makes with a protractor. Her hands rolled the dough in her palms into perfect one-inch balls that she carefully placed on the Pampered Chef cookie baking stone. The heat from the oven was warming her face, so she knew it would be heated to the right temperature soon.

"Hi Honey, baking again?" Her mother passed through the kitchen. "On my way to check the building site. I'll be back for dinner. Do you want to cook, or shall we go out?" Carlotta's mom was behind her now, giving a quick hug to her daughter.

"No, Mom, I don't want to go out tonight. Can you pick up some sandwiches? Jersey Mike's, please; you know the one I love." The oven beeped just as her mom left, and she slid the cookies into the oven and set the timer.

Her Angora cat, Cookie, mewed at her while he hooked his claws into her thigh, stretching high, wanting attention. "Cookie, ow, that hurts." She lifted the big guy to her shoulder, snuggling his furry neck into hers. "Okay, now I have to wash my hands and change aprons; can't have your fur in my cookies, right?" She set him down and ran her hand down his back, scratching just above his tail. Cookie arched and purred.

When the time beeped, Carlotta took the cookies out of the oven for a minute before transferring them to the cooling rack. Once all the cookies were baked, she cleaned the kitchen and walked around the block to calm her anxiety over the test, knowing her mom would be displeased.

Her mom, an engineer, managed building sites all over the county. She was a math genius who had double majored in architecture and engineering in college and went on to oversee building projects for the largest construction firm in their area. Math to her was like breathing – thoughtless – it just happened naturally.

**

Her mom arrived home promptly at five thirty with a bag of Jersey Mike's sandwiches and individual bags of chips. Over dinner, she praised Carlotta rather than rebuking her for her rotten math skills.

"Honey, not everyone is good at math. You are better at baking than I am and a much better cook than me. I never liked home-making skills, and you do. You will be the next Martha Stewart, my love!" Carlotta grinned at her mom, who was skilled at praising her daughter.

They both looked up as Carlotta's dad entered. "Honey, I didn't know you were due home tonight, or I would have brought a sandwich for you!" Her mother jumped up to kiss her dad. He hugged Carlotta, replying, "I grabbed a bite on the road. I'll be here through the weekend, thank God!" His family clapped their hands at that; he was gone too much, and they loved any time he could spend with them. He sniffed and looked around. "Do I smell Carlotta's cookies?" His daughter grinned and pulled out the dessert plate she had set aside, hoping he would be home to eat them.

"Yes, Dad, I saved some for you. I just had a feeling you might show up." She giggled as he shoved a whole cookie into his mouth.

**

Thursday morning, Carlotta arrived at her school locker with the cookies wrapped and packed in the shoe box she used. She placed her backpack in her locker, checked the time, and decided she better put the cookies in the locker.

"Carlotta! Good Thursday morning!" It was Tary, her best guy friend.

"Hey, you."

"Cookies, I smell cookies." He grinned stupidly at her.

"Uh-huh. It's Thursday. You have to wait."

They headed to class and met at her locker at eleven o'clock when both had empty periods. She placed two cookies in napkins and handed them to Tary. Carlotta bought the small square napkins at Marshall's by the dozens. She loved animal prints, festive prints, and kind sayings and took some time selecting them. Today, Tary's cookies were in a napkin that said, "Weekends Are The Best." It wasn't lost on Tary.

"What a great saying; I love the weekends. I love your cookies more, though." He smiled at her with his vast, loopy, lovesick grin. He did love her, but she was oblivious. Taryn took a bite, and she watched as his eyes closed in rapture when his taste buds erupted from the spices, nuts, fats, and sweetness of her melt-in-your-mouth cookies. "Oh, my God, you did it again!" A grin spread across her face as she looked at him and then shyly down at the floor.

"I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk together after school." Her cheeks burned, and as he nodded yes to her suggestion, the muscles in her cheeks ached from the strain of her long, broad smile.

The day ended, and Carlotta met Tary at her locker. He took her backpack and slung it over one shoulder; she carried her empty shoebox.

"That box looks sick, Carlotta. You need a new one. Let's go by Nordstrom Rack."

"Why?"

"I have a friend who works there, and I'll get you some new boxes."

"I'm sure they don't sell shoes without boxes."

"It's okay. Let's go and see."

They walked to the stand-alone building and strolled behind it. Tary's friend Ron was out back, drinking a Coca-Cola. "Tary, my man! I found two banged-up boxes in the storage room that had no shoes attached to them. A little packing tape will hold them together." He held them and smiled at Carlotta. "So, this is the Cookie Queen, you always tell me about?"

Taryn blushed, but Carlotta didn't notice.

"Thank you," she told both of the guys. "I'll have Tary bring some cookies to you." Ron nodded.

**

Carlotta didn't share her cookie recipes. Today's peanut butter chocolate chunk had a smidge of finely crushed walnuts, a tiny amount of cinnamon, brown sugar only with no white, and a bit of maple syrup mixed in with the butter. She carefully wrote out the amounts of each ingredient to reproduce the recipe if people liked it. This Thursday's cookie was a winner. The teachers had raved; the cafeteria workers had lined up and clapped after eating theirs. She remembered Tary's face as he tasted it.

**

Carlotta stacked her old shoebox inside the ones Ron had given her. She carried them in her right hand, and her left hand brushed Tary's as they headed home.

"I was wondering. Why is your name spelled T-A-R-Y, instead of T-E-R-R-Y? I mean, why would your mom spell it so weirdly? Isn't it hard with teachers and new people you meet?"

"She says she was overdue with me. She liked the name Terry, and when I was overdue, she began Googling methods to 'get me born,' as she says. She washed windows; she crawled around on her hands and knees; she played tennis – yes, tennis! The doctor told her she was healthy, that I was healthy, and would come when I was ready. So, when I was born, she spelled it like this because I had 'tarried' so long inside her. Now, she never lets me forget it. 'Tary, you will not tarry in our house after school. You must leave and go to college. You will graduate in three or four years, no longer; you will not tarry.'

Carlotta burst into laughter at his crazy explanation and the way he pronounced certain words so theatrically. She adored how he said her name, caressing it as it rolled off his tongue. She heard CARL-ahtah. He swirled the CARL on his tongue as if he usually spoke with a Spanish accent. Sometimes, he forgot and simply called her CARL; yet, she answered and never objected.

"You are so funny. Do you know that you pronounce my name like CARL-ahtah? It should be said as CAR- Lot- AH. Accent on the Lot part." She touched his arm when she realized her words had embarrassed him. "It's okay. I love how you say it, and like it when you call me CARL, too. Really. You are one of my best friends, did you know that? I have a secret for you: they assigned a different locker when we moved into the eleventh grade, and I went to the Principal's office and explained that we had to stay next to each other."

"You did that? I was so sad when I saw the locker assignment. When I got to it, I saw it was at the end of the row, by the bathroom, and next to brain-dead Bert. Then, the next day, the locker wouldn't open. I went to the office, and they told me I had been moved. Searching for the newly assigned one, THERE YOU WERE! If you got me changed, I say you are amazing! I don't know why they would move me next to you. I mean, we kids have no power – why would they? I mean, gosh, just because you demanded it."

Carlotta had always carefully placed waxed paper and Reynolds foil in the bottom and finger cookie shoebox, but the cookies managed to leave grease marks in places. She stared at her old shoebox as he spoke.

"I don't know. I'm just glad they put our lockers together again because I look forward to seeing you. I'm certain our lockers will be side-by-side in Senior year too."

If you liked this story, check out Hank's Devotion.