The Art of Cookies

Cookies were always my favorite. It didn't matter what type of cookies they were. It could be chocolate chips, oatmeal, shortbread, etc. I wasn't picky when it came to this particular sweet.

My grandmother held the reason why I truly loved cookies. She always told me, "Martie, you should never judge cookies. They're all different, just like people. And just because one of them is not your personal taste, it doesn't make it anymore important to the taste of others."

My grandmother, of whom I was named after, Marta, was a very wise woman. She held Godly principles throughout her life and never wavered from her faith. I wished I inherited that from her.

She died when I was fifteen and now that I'm eighteen and about to graduate, I have to face the reality that my grandmother won't be here to see me walk down the graduation aisle. But I do have her recipes for her famous cookies. She truly was a good baker.

My parents divorced when I was fourteen. My grandmother was my rock during this depressing time. This was when I discovered my true love of baking. I loved the art of baking, the art of shelling out cookies. Neighbors heard about our baking and started to ask for our specialty cookies for their get-togethers. Soon, we were a hot commodity to bake and decorate cookies of their choice. They even started to pay us even when we told them we baked from love.

I made my first big sale for the church bazaar six months before my grandmother passed. I was elated and gave her the money as a thank you. She gave me the money back for my fifteenth birthday, knowing that I would deny that I earned it as much as she did.

“You’re going to need it more than I do. Your next adventure will be so fruitful.” MawMaw Marta said with a grin. I took the money and put it in my piggy bank, where it stayed without being added to or taken out. Those forty dollars meant everything to me after she passed suddenly from an aneurysm. I was incredibly inconsolable. I couldn’t even go into the wake room where the body laid. My father was annoyed with me but my mother understood. She was under the same grief I was. It was her mother, after all. It was so sudden, none of us knew why it happened. She was in such good spirits the day before. Then the next day, she complained of a headache and the next moment she was gone.

I shook my head from the depressing memories as I listened to one of the teachers drawl on molecules and other biology drivel. I blinked and saw that one of my friends dangled something in front of me as my eyes focused. It was a charm of some sort on a silver chain.

“Drew gave this to me.” Lyla whispered as Mr. Duhon turned his back to write on the board. “It’s from the world market, like he went to Japan or something. It’s some kind of character from an anime he loves.”

“Oh, yeah that’s Luffy. From One Piece.” I answered in a whisper.

“Luffy? I don’t think I’ve watched that anime.” Lyla said with a frown, then sucked in a breath. “Oh yes, I have. I don’t think I’ve finished it though. It’s been ages since I’ve sat down and watched an anime.”

“We can try to catch up on it this weekend.” Lyla’s face lit up as I suggested this. I knew Lyla liked Ryan, who was obsessed with anime and anything Japan. Like a lot of the students here. One of my teachers told another that it was more like an epidemic of fandoms that exploded over night the last few years.

It wasn’t really like that, but it was more acceptable here to love weird things. I guess it had something to do one anime doing so well, it captured a whole generation before us that was passed down to their own children. My parents weren’t into stuff like this, but my grandmother always had a love for art, so the reason why I was into anime was specifically for art. I loved to draw and loved making my own interpretations of manga from beloved series. I even wrote fanfiction, but that was far and few between due to the lack of time I had this year.

Baking had the biggest chunk of time because I still got orders from neighbors. Just because my grandmother had passed, didn’t mean I stopped the tradition. It was as if MawMaw Marta was still there alongside me, guiding my hands to form the dough and the shape of the cookies.

The day became a blur as classes merged into each other and then it was finally time to go home. I was waiting on the buses to stop and park before boarding when Lyla came up to me and asked, “Do you need help baking this evening? I know you have a few orders for the Library’s celebration.”

I thought about it as the bus opened the door and students started to climb aboard. “Sure.” I said after a beat. “I could use the help. You sure your mom won’t mind?”

“Mom’s working until late tonight, so it’s a win win for me. I get to spend time with my best friend and not be so alone.”

Lyla’s dad died when she was young and Lyla’s mom moved from their hometown to LaPierre. She wanted to be where no one knew them. I guess it had something to do with the mysterious surroundings of Lyla’s dad’s death. I one armed hugged her and then said, “you can get off with me, if you want.”

Lyla lived a house or two down from my mom’s own place. So it wasn’t unusual for her to haunt our place. My mom loved her and always said she was welcomed as a bonus daughter, even if my mom already had my sister and I. My sister, Olivia, didn’t mind at all. In fact, Lyla and Olivia were two peas in a pod. I’m guessing it was because Lyla didn’t have any siblings who were near her age. They were all grown and out of the house. Her brother was in the military and her sister was married with a kid on the way living in another state. So she was the last one with her mom. Her mom was sweet, but always was working to keep up with the bills.

We walked off the bus and toward my house which was empty. I forgot my mom had to work today and my sister was at our cousin’s house for the night. We made it into the house, laid our homework on the dining table and began to complete it. It was an hour past before we finished and I was able to start baking.

I felt at home as my hands sifted the flour with the baking soda and salt in one bowl and then beat the eggs with the sugar, butter, and vanilla. As Lyla stirred the other batch of cookie dough, we had a few hours of fun and laughter. I methodically shaped the sugar cookies into different animals. A preference of mine was to do them hand done rather than with a cookie cutter. It gave it more of a personal touch.

The art of the cookie was in the hands of the creator. Or so my grandmother told me. I smiled at Lyla as she complimented my methodical and meticulous crafting of the cookies. The shapes were dinosaurs, bunny and dog faces, and different shapes, depending on the order in which the cookie belonged too. We spent another hour before my mom came home from her shift at the local hospital baking and sampling the cookies that didn’t make the cut.

My mom came home with us sitting at the dining table, with cookies dressed up and boxed up for their respected orders.

“You girls sure were busy.” My mom said with a tired smile.

I hugged her and offered her some cookies, in which she graciously took a sample of. “These are delicious.” She praised as she walked toward the pot of noodles I cooked. “oh, you even cooked dinner. Thank you.” My mom hugged me again and kissed my forehead. After that she went to the back to take a shower and get ready to eat.

Lyla watched from her perch and for one moment looked dejected before she pulled her mask back on. “So do you want to go to your room?”

“Sure, let me go ahead and save these. I’ll meet you in the room.” I said as I motioned toward my room at the end of the hallway.

I managed to save everything, clean the kitchen and then leave the pasta and meat on the stove for Mom.

I walked into my bedroom to see Lyla staring at her phone and then smiled at me. “So did you want to watch One Piece?” She sounded excited but something felt off.

“Sure,” I said. I moved toward the bed in the middle of the room and turned the TV on, finding the streaming service to watch the anime. Turning out the light, we laid on the bed. We watched a couple of episodes before Lyla’s phone started buzzing nonstop. I saw her face pale in the TV light.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as she slammed her phone down. She let out a gasp that turned into a sob. “Hey! Hey hey! Lyla!” I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close into a hug.

“I knew I shouldn’t have said I liked him!” She cried into my shoulder.

“Ryan? What did he do?”

She pulled away from me and then handed me the phone with the screen unlocked. There, a picture of Ryan and a girl cuddled together with the caption reading: “official couple of the year.” So Rachel and Ryan finally made it official. Rachel was from another school and looked just like his type, but Lyla was hoping that it wasn’t going to be true. Lyla wiped her tears away angrily. “He led me on!” She pumped her fist onto the bedspread, knocking the remote down.

“I don’t think he led you on.” I said with a frown. I mean, he really didn’t. In my personal opinion, he was just being kind to Lyla who took everyone’s kindness as flirty. Lyla’s mouth fell open and she glared at me.

“Why would you say that after agreeing with me he was into me!” She all but spat. Anger twisted her face and I had to take a small step away. I knew Lyla had a temper but it was one thing I always avoided. I knew she really liked Ryan, but I truly got the impression it was just one sided.

“I didn’t agree.” I said, standing my ground despite the confusion and fear that rose in my belly. “I just agreed that you two would make a good couple. But apparently, Ryan doesn’t feel the same.”

“He did too! Why is he with that bitch! He knew that I didn’t like Rachel yet here he is flaunting her on social media. Even Evie said we’d make a cute couple.”

“Hey now! Don’t call her a bitch. You barely know her.”

“And you do?”

“No, but I don’t go around calling people horrible names just because something didn’t go my way. C’mon, Ly, let’s talk about this rationally and stop taking your anger out on me.” I said softly. “You know better than anything else that I always have your back, but you can even see through this delusion.”

Lyla stomped her foot in agitation and then whirled around. “I’m going home.”

My mom came in just as Lyla opened the door. “Is everything okay in here?”

“I’m going home. I think my mom is coming home, so I’ll be okay.” Lyla said in a tear filled voice. Without even looking back, Lyla walked to the front door, shoved her shoes on and walked out without another glance, slamming the door in the process. I winced and turned to my mom who looked scandalized for a moment before turning to me in great concern.

“What in the world happened?” Mom asked as she followed me to the kitchen. I shook my head. She put a hand gently on my shoulder and then led me to the dining table. “What happened, Martie?”

I sucked in a long breath and then released it. I explained everything while trying not to get choked up. My mom hugged me and ruffled my hair with a feather light touch. “I think Lyla needs to have some time to process this painful experience. Even though what you may think is not a big deal, this is life defining for her right now.”

She put a finger on my lips to silence me before I said anything, because I did still feel anger for the way Lyla flipped out on me, “Hold your thoughts until I’m finished with my motherly wisdom.” She pulled me into a tight hug and continued saying, “She’s lonely and needs you to understand that. She needs you to be a friend, not a yes man but a friend who can, with love, tell her when she’s being a bit of an idiot. If she doesn’t accept your gentle wisdom, then she won’t be a long term friend.” She pulled back and then ran a hand down my cheek lovingly, “You need to apologize to her when you get the chance and try to make amends. But you also have got to tell her the truth about Ryan.”

I stewed on it for a few moments before saying, “What if she hates me for it?”

“Then she isn’t meant to be your friend.” She kissed my forehead. “Okay, it’s late and we both need to be in bed. Let’s lock up and go to bed.” She stood up as I did, and then snapped her fingers, “Oh yes,” She took out her phone and called a number. “Hey, sorry it’s so late, but I wanted to make sure that Lyla got in safely? She did? Oh good.” She paused and then smiled, “Yes, I know. Lyla will be okay, I’m sure. I’ll have Martie talk with her. Okay, uh huh… you too.” She turned to me and said, “Lyla’s mom is concerned about Lyla, so you need to talk with her tomorrow.”

I sighed and nodded. “I’ll talk with her tomorrow on the way to school.”

“Good girl. Now get some sleep.” Mom pushed me to the direction of my room. I looked at the tins of cookies as I walked toward my room. Maybe I could give her a tin of cookies to soften her up. MawMaw Marta told me that the art of forgiveness is in the art of the cookies.