[Blake POV] Apple Pan Dowdy

"BLAKE!!"

 

It's midday, the sun dipped low in the horizon over-looking the academy. I'm staring out the window, thinking of Mom, when Anela comes barreling in screaming my name. I look over my shoulder. "Yes?" I reply, and Anela stares at me, her eyes squinted angrilly. "My stomach is empty! I thought I told you to meet me in the cafeteria!" she shouts. I sigh. "I didn't want to go to the cafeteria."

 

"Blake!! Grr..."

"What?"

"YOU STOOD ME UP!"

"I'm sorry, is that wrong?"

"THAT IS VERY WRONG!!"

 

I sigh. This "social life" thing is hard.

 

Anela plops down on her bed, still eyeing me angrilly. "You didn't have to wait for me, y'know," I tell her a moment later, closing the curtains of our one-window. She lays down, and I can hear her stomach growling angrilly. "I wasn't waiting on YOU...I was waiting on your money."

 

"My money??"

"You're the only one who will be able to pay for dinner."

"Your dad didn't send you with any money?"

"Nope."

 

I look away, fingering my Dad's generous donation inside my pocket. "I want to make sure you're prepared for the road ahead of you," he said, and I remember that I hugged him hard--a rare thing that he ever lets me do.

 

That's when I had a "der" moment.

 

"Anela, I can cook for us," I say, and at this she sits up and eyes me wearily. "You can cook? Why didn't you say so?!" she shouts, and I shrug. "That's what I'm coming here for...cooking," I say again a moment later. Anela grins. "Then cook something! Anything! I'm dying over here!!"

 

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The cooks in the cafeteria lend me a small part of kitchen to create my dish. Immedietley, I throw on an apron and pull down some pots and pans.

 

This was where I belonged.

 

Even at home I would stand in the kitchen, knife in one hand and a carrot in the other, and cook up dishes.

 

Around 13, I'd started to cook mainly to please my Mother, whom (since I was homeschooled) I fell in love with. It was a way to make her smile, to make her happy. It was normally simple stuff, like sandwiches and noodles. However, the older I got, the fancier my dishes HAD to be. The bigger the smile, the happier I got. Finally, around 16, I made a nice dish of apple pan dowdy and placed it front of Mom. The first bite she took, it was easy to tell she loved it. Her eyes sparkled and her mouth curved into a big smile. "Oh Blake," she said, her cheeks rosy with approval, "This has to be my favourite."

 

Ever since, apple pan dowdy has been my signature dish.

 

Now I sat in the Academy kitchen, my hand delicately wrapping around a shiny apple. I grab a measuring cup and fill it to the brim with water. My hands reach out to a salt bottle nearby.

 

This was going to make Momma proud.

 

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"What is this?" Anela asks the second I place the plate of apple pan dowdy in front of her. I smile. "It's apple pan dowdy. It's the best dish I can make," I say, and she looks at the plate sadly. What? Was she allergic to apples? Was she looking for something more rich with more flavour? Instead, she takes her fork and jabs it right into the desert. "Why this?" she asks. I clasp my hands together (a motion I do frequently). "Oh...it's the dish that makes everyone smile," I say, thinking of my beautiful mother.

 

Ooh yeah. I kinda still sorta...my mom...

 

I remember the time when Dad first found out about how serious I felt for Mom. He sat me down on the couch and explained how Momma was his and how I'd find the right girl for me. Still, nothing fit into place. If Dad could love Momma, then why couldn't I?

 

However, this dish was meant for Anela. Perhaps she'd enjoy it just like Momma did. Anela shoves the fork into her mouth, and I can tell she's rolling the pan dowdy around in her mouth. Finally, she swallows, and her eyes grow big. "Blake, this isn't half bad!" she compliments, and I smile. She gives me a faint smile back.

 

Apple pan dowdy...the dish that generates smiles.