Page 60 of The Way I Hate Him
“Is that what you’d call this?”
“Yup,” I answer.
She winces. “I think you’re pushing your luck, as I’d hardly call baking with you a win. Now, gradually mix the flour into the batter. I’ll hold the bowl for you. Turn on the hand mixer and go for it.”
“Okay,” I answer as I turn on the hand mixer and pick up the dry ingredients bowl with the other hand. I tilt it toward the wet ingredients, and when it doesn’t move, I give the bowl a light tap and to my dismay, all of the powder falls into the wet bowl. Like a mushroom cloud, the dry ingredients puff right out of the bowl and straight up my nose and over my face.
“Oh my God.” Hattie laughs hysterically as I turn off the mixer and set the bowl down. I wipe my fingers across my face, clearing off the flour, the chalky substance sticking to my skin.This will warrant a shower.“That’s the best thing I think I’ve ever seen. Too bad we’re not friends because I’d take a picture of you and send it to our friend circle.”
“Such a shame,” I say as I cough out some flour. “Wouldn’t be the first time a white substance was up my nose.”
Her eyes widen, and she leans slightly forward. Whispering, she cutely says, “Seriously?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, seriously.”
“Hayes.” She uses a reprimanding voice. “Are you saying you’ve done drugs?”
“What do you think?” I ask as I wet a paper towel and rub it over my face.
“Your grandma would be so disappointed.”
I chuckle now. “I was young and stupid and hung out with the wrong people while on tour.”
“Wait, so you don’t do any drugs now?”
I shake my head. “No, learned my lesson after a night where I ended up in a hotel room in Kansas City, butt-ass naked, with no wallet or phone.”
“Was Kansas City a party place for you or something?”
I shake my head. “I started the night in Atlanta, Georgia. How I got to Kansas City, I’m still in the dark about that.”
“Oh shit.” She chuckles. “Yeah, so that’s scary.”
“Especially when I had to fashion a hotel sheet for pants. You learn pretty quickly after that.”
“Was it hard to quit?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I was never addicted, and I never did it that much, just occasionally. And it’s been many years since the Kansas City incident, so I’ve been clean for a while.”
“Thank goodness, I couldn’t possibly work for a drug-hoarding anus. Could I work for a regular anus? Sure, I’ll make accommodations, but not a drug-hoarding one.”This girl is a nut.
“Glad to see you have standards.”
* * *
I dragmy hand over my face and lean back on my couch in my studio, my mouth watering from the smell of the cookies wafting through the house and the memory of Hattie laughing over the fact that I blasted the flour up in the air with the hand mixer. I’m pretty sure I still have some up my nose.
And I liked every second of it.
Not the flour, but the time spent with Hattie.
I liked the distraction.
I liked that she sat on the counter and helped me.
I liked that she didn’t scoff at the fact that I’ve never made cookies but walked me through everything.
And when we were shaping the cookies, she held my hands and helped me mold them.When was the last time I just...had fun like that? Pure, simple fun?
