Cookie Monster

Sawyer cracked an egg against the side of a glass bowl, eyes darting back towards the laminated recipe card where his nonna’s handwriting remained entombed in time. The card was older than he was; the recipe passed down from nonna to his parents, then finally to him. The chocolate chip coconut cookies were not supposed to be for him, but for his best friend, whom he had a hilariously huge crush on. Emilia had been home from school for two days now due to getting her appendix out, and he was dying to see her. He figured the cookies were a nice touch alongside his sweet presence. Once he cracked the second egg, he reread the card, his heart fluttering at his late nonna’s writing.

NONNA’S COCO COOKIES:

2 sticks of unsalted butter.

1C brown sugar.

1C granulated sugar. (A heavy hand is always okay for extra sweetness!)

2 large eggs.

2TSP vanilla extract.

2 1/2C all-purpose flour.

1TSP salt. (A few pinches are okay. No need to measure).

1TSP baking powder.

1TSP baking soda.

1C chocolate chips (more for topping).

1C shredded sweetened coconut (more for topping).

“Well, Nonna?” Sawyer murmured to himself, “I hope these make her happy.”

Sawyer continued to create the cookie dough, humming slightly to himself as he worked. This was very out of tune for him—his parents often joked about his lack of cooking skills, but love was love, and for Emilia, he’d do anything, including dirtying his favorite pajama pants and enduring the countless “don’t burn the house down” remarks from his father.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the oven beeped, indicating it had finished preheating. The cookie balls had been flattened against parchment paper, chocolate chips resting on top in the shape of a smiley face.

Twenty minutes later, Sawyer was watching the cookies cool off on the rack. His thumbs itched to message Emilia, to ask how she was doing, whether she felt well enough for him to come over, and whether all the texts he was sending were starting to get annoying…

He had sent fifteen since he’d gotten the text that she was in surgery three days ago.

But funny enough, Emilia almost always knew what Sawyer was thinking. His phone beeped, and his thumbs got to work instantly. Emilia, like the mind reader she was (or was she just a good friend?), had sent him a message.

“My parents said you can come over if we take it easy. Does a movie sound good? I’m bored, and it’s insufferable how lonely I am.”

He responded so fast he could’ve cooled the cookies off with the air he was putting out. “Hell yes, a movie sounds great. See you in 30?”

Emilia hearted the message in turn of replying—her way of agreeing without words. Sawyer bounced on the balls of his feet out of pure giddiness, but stopped when he realized he needed a container to transport the cookies in. He turned around, eyes searching the cupboards for something suitable. He could’ve gone with a plain plastic bag, but he needed something that would look better. Something more thoughtful than a Ziplock.

Once he found a decent plastic container, he carefully arranged the cookies inside. Plenty for Emilia, her parents, and her older brother Ethan, who always managed to crawl under Sawyer’s skin.

“Mom?” Sawyer called out.

“In the laundry room,” a voice replied, “Do you need something?”

“I’m going to Lia’s! I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Sawyer waited for a reply, one hand already clutching his keys.

“Have fun. Love you!” Sawyer’s mom poked her head out of the laundry room’s doorway, a smile on her face. “Did you leave any cookies for us?”

“Mhm,” Sawyer hummed, slipping his shoes on. “I left a few.”

“Good. Tell Emilia I wish her a speedy recovery,” Sawyer’s mom replied, “And let Mrs. Heartland know I’ll be by Sunday for brunch!”

***

Sawyer’s knuckles knocked against the hardwood in three symmetrical taps. He stepped back out of reflex once the door in front of him creaked open, revealing Ethan. Ethan was much older—three years and a few months, much taller (at least six inches), and had a few tattoos that lingered on his arms.

“Why are you here?” Ethan’s eyes darted down to the container of cookies, then back towards Sawyer’s gaze, which was intensely trained on the concrete belonging to the porch.

“Um,” Sawyer started before shoving the container of cookies into Ethan’s hands. “Cookies?” he offered weakly.

“Cookies.”

“Yeah,” Sawyer said before looking inside. Emilia was on the couch, her hand resting weakly over her abdomen, the blanket tucked into each corner. “Lia likes them.”

Ethan’s smirk turned wolfish. “So that’s why you’re here. You baked my sister cookies.”

Sawyer nodded weakly as Emilia’s head turned toward the door. Her smile widened, and she almost lifted herself off the couch cushion until pain very obviously radiated throughout her body. Her groan traveled throughout the living room and toward the front door.

Ethan’s smirk dropped, brows furrowing slightly. “You good, sis?”

“Fine, just sore,” Emilia replied, head leaning back. “You can let Sawyer in; he’s no harm.”

Sawyer let out a small sigh at both of Emilia’s sentences. He was relieved she was “fine” (he knew that when she said she was fine, it was more than likely a ‘leave me alone’), and that she had reassured Ethan that he was no harm to anyone.

“Fine, get in,” Ethan pointed his thumb towards the house. “Still don’t know why you come around,” he mumbled under his breath.

“He’s just grumpy that his best friend doesn’t bake cookies for him,” Emilia joked. She earned a sarcastic ‘ha, ha’ from her brother before stretching her arms out towards the container still in Ethan’s grasp. “Give.”

“I want one first,” Ethan glared at Sawyer. “Need to make sure they’re not like poisonous or something.” Ethan opened the Pyrex before scooping out three cookies—the amount the 19-year-old felt was suitable to test. Then, like the blackhole his stomach was, he conveniently shoved all three into his mouth. It took a solid minute for him to chew, but once he swallowed, he nodded in content. “Not bad. Coconut isn’t my thing, but we all know Em doesn’t discriminate.”

Emilia whacked weakly at Ethan’s jab. “Stop insinuating I’m fat, you cookie monster,” she whined.

“Just joking,” Ethan raised his hands in mock resignation, “and you can’t blame a guy, you know. Free cookies are free cookies.”

Sawyer timidly sat next to Emilia on the couch, careful not to move her around too much. “Try one?” he took a cookie and handed it to Emilia, who bit into it gently.