Her Recipe

“Grandma used box mix. This right here is premium grade choc-oh-la-tay delight!” My sister sang, stretching each word as if to make sure it was imprinted in my mind.

She had the bowl tucked firmly between her side and her arm. Her curvaceous hips swayed and her head rolled rhythmically to whatever song she had playing in her head. While her curls bounced freely over her dark choc-oh-la-tay face and a broad smile. Her wrist rotated with the speed and precision of an expert baker, beating each of the ingredients until they melded beautifully together like a song. I rolled my eyes.

Carol had recently got into culinary school after years of telling me she would be the greatest chef this world had ever seen. Don't get me wrong, I wasn’t bitter or upset. I am just a competitive ass bitch. God definitely has a sense of humor because he sent me to a family full of competitors.

Growing up everything you can imagine was a competition. My younger brother once ran for blocks cutting through random people’s backyards just to prove that he was “faster on foot than I was in a car.” I won, obviously, but not even the obvious stopped us from competing.

Yeah, being in culinary school and having a passion for cooking versus someone who literally hates the sight of a stove, might seem like an obvious win, but that does not mean shit to a competitor. Half the battle is psychological anyway. You get into your opponent's head, psych them out, and then bam, you’ve basically already won.

I plugged my earphones into my ears and pulled out my phone real cool. “You’re just mad Grandma didn't teach your crusty ass how to make her world-famous cake, like moi.” I bragged in the most haughty tone that I could muster. The smugness on my face was absolutely impeccable.

Carol stopped dancing, furrowed her brows until her eyes were nearly shut, and shot me a tight-lipped smirk. Her eyes briefly darted away from me, as if looking to see if anyone else had heard my outrageous statement and then landed back on my face just as she let out a choked scoff.

“Whatever bro,” I said brushing her ridicule off, “Also, it wasn’t just the box mix, you know there was a secret ingredient. Wait..” I stopped suddenly and acted as if I was searching my memories. I sucked in a sharp breath and grimaced, “Ooo..maybe you don’t since she never taught you. No wonder everyone asks me to make cakes for the cookout and not you," I said so very slowly, lacing each word with fake sympathy.

Carol returned my statement with a prompt flash of her middle finger. This time it was my turn to return the tight-lipped smile. Checkmate. I had gotten under her skin. I shrugged, pressed play on my music, and turned quickly on the balls of my feet. I turned so fast my box braids almost slapped me in my face. After a finishing blow, it's always best to leave quickly before your opponent can recover.

A competitor remains a competitor till the day they die. Even though underneath all the posturing, sneak dissing and put-downs was an immense amount of pride the competitor in me would never let it show.

My sister was one part gorgeous, 2 parts passion, 10 parts driven and a million parts fierce. A perfect recipe. She was my phenomenally unshakeable older sister and I could not be prouder of the woman that she had become.

Maybe I should have told her that.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

“Pass me the flour,” I commanded.

Jay hauled the newly opened bag of flour across the granite island and carelessly dropped it next to a silver bowl. A cloud of white flour escaped the bag and engulfed my face.

“Babe are you serious,” I shrieked, swatting at the cloud.

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t know that it would do that! Here,” he said handing me a measuring cup. “Why don't you just use the box mix, it's so much easier?”

“Because this cake right here is premium grade choc-oh-la-tay delight,” I sang with my eyes trained on the measuring cup full of flour. Two cups on the dot.

“Okay... I hear you but this is the 7th premium grade choc-oh-la-tay delight you’ve made this week,” he said cautiously. His hazel eyes studied me as I dumped the flour into the silver bowl.

“Okay, and?” I asked impatiently. I wanted him to get straight to the point. I could feel my irritation rising in me like a fever.

“And... You’ve thrown away every single one of those cakes, my love. Almost as soon as it came out of the oven.”

I stared at him, narrowed my eyes, and cocked my head to the side. The fever was swirling inside of me now, banging against the walls that I had built up. I hated this soft hushed tone that he insisted on using. As if he was talking to some fragile baby bird that had fallen out of a nest somewhere instead of the lioness that I was. I gripped a nearby measuring spoon pressing the plastic handle deep into my palms.

“They. Weren’t. Right,” I stated, leaving a deliberate pause after each and every word.

“That's why I'm saying, maybe if you got an already done cake you could-“ he stopped mid-sentence and let out a long exaggerated breath. Smart man.

Jay sat still for several moments. I flicked my attention to the worn paper laying between the steel bowl and bag of flour. Jay ran his hands roughly through his long brown hair. I reached for the baking powder. He looked at me sternly. I dipped the measuring spoon and leveled out 2 perfect teaspoons. He placed his tan hands on the counter and lifted himself off the kitchen stool. I poured the baking powder into the bowl.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked in that same grating tone.

I turned away from him and rummaged through the spice cabinet. I shifted and re-shifted the bottles as I steadied my breath. As I reached for the same bottle that I had just shifted 5 times, I felt Jay gently press against my back. He reached above my head, grabbed the salt from the top shelf, and placed it on the counter next to me. Then he closed his arms tightly around my body and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Why are you doing this?” he repeated quieter. “It won’t bring her back.”

I sunk into the curve of his body, closed my eyes, and whispered, “I know.”

Maybe it was the weight of him pressing in on me, maybe the swirling had finally reached my ears, but I could have sworn that the words sounded like soft chirping.

I pushed away from him while untangling his arms from my torso, cleared my throat, and said, “I know, but I can still win,” I was no baby bird.

Jay turned around, rolled up his sleeves, and tied his hair up. “Okay then, let me help you,” he offered.

I nodded and handed him a piece of paper with the words “Premium Grade chocolate Cake Recipe” scribbled on top.

“Okay, you can start on the wet ingredients,” I instructed.

He nodded and began to walk towards the fridge but before he could get too far I caught the back of his t-shirt in my fingers. He whirled to face me with concern etched all over his face and then melted into his soul-crushing smile. The swirls had reached my eyes.

“Just because something might be obvious,” I started, “doesn’t mean it’s a given. It doesn’t mean it’s impossible” I said, choking on the words. A distant part of me could feel the warmth of the swirls slip down my cheeks. “It doesn’t mean we give up.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“Do you have family here?” the nurse asked through the hole in the glass.

She was a tall slender woman with thinning hair, a long face, and pale veiny fingers. She wore a polite smile that did not reach her eyes and held a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. I nodded.

“Okay you’ll just need to sign in,” she instructed while thrusting the clipboard towards me. I placed the brown paper bag that I had been holding, carefully on the front desk and quickly filled in the required information then slipped the clipboard back to the nurse through the hole in the glass.

“Alright, go through the double doors and turn right,” she said.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

I gently cradled the brown paper bag against my chest and turned towards the door.

Before I could even think my feet had already carried me the remaining distance. I emerged in an open space with round tables, several chairs, couches, and a large screen TV. A small group of people sat huddled together playing a round of cards, while a couple of people lounged casually on the couches watching a rerun of The Price Is Right. My eyes quickly swept the surroundings and landed on a small-framed woman sitting by the window.

Her hair was buzzed short and looked patchy. Her cheeks were sunken and her mouth formed a straight tight line. Her arms were folded over her rigid body and her fingers were curved in the air as if she had claws.

I have never seen someone freeze to death before but I imagined that if I had, it would look very similar to her stillness. The thought caused a sick feeling in my stomach.

Before I could think my feet had done it again, transporting me just inches away from her side. Even my sudden approach did not defrost her posture, but I could see her face more clearly now. Her dark brown eyes sailed past my face, not even registering my existence and landed behind me moving slowly and methodically as if tracking movement. I glanced over my shoulder and shook my head knowing very well that there was a world that I would never be able to enter. One that belongs only to her.

My hands tightened around the paper bag. The crunching dragged my thoughts back and I instantly remembered I had come on a mission. I plopped myself in a vacant chair next to her and carefully reached into the brown bag.

I grinned widely and revitalized my best, most haughty voice, “Guess what I brought,” I pulled my hand out and exposed the black Tupperware container that had been carefully encased inside the paper bag. I placed the container on a small side table and lifted the lid partway.

I stole a quick glance up at her. She remained unmoved, vigilantly tracking her world. My smile faltered slightly but my resolve steeled itself.

I summoned the competitor once again, “ This right here sis...” I boasted while gesturing to the cake, “...is even greater than your so-called premium-grade Choc-oh-la-tay delight. This slice of cake will blow your mind!”

I ripped the remaining lid off and discarded it next to the abandoned paper bag. As I turned to face my sister, my plastered smile dropped. Carol sat unmoved... except for her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed leaving only thin slits for her eyes. Eyes that peered straight towards... me. Maybe it was the way the light hit her face, warming her skin and brightening her eyes, but I swear the corners of her lips twitched upright.

We sat there the rest of the time silently, me, my sister, and the world's greatest piece of chocolate cake because, “obvious” does not mean impossible, and competitors never die.