The Secret Ingredient
By SincerelyEllie
Chapter 1: Preheat Ovens to 350° F
Beatrice looked into the display case and took note of which desserts were left. The lunch rush had just passed and the desserts she prepared beforehand were nearly gone. She walked to the kitchen and grabbed the ingredients she needed. The lunch rush was her favorite time, the large crowd and the constant demand kept her busy. She realized the busier she was and how focusing solely on something like baking kept her grounded from feeling all the emotions of her many customers during the rush.
Baking was literally a lifeline for her. She motioned for the flour to lift, then she slightly shook her hands to sprinkle it across the counters. Beatrice let out a long sigh as she took in the silence. The heat from the ovens warmed up the entire bakery as she checked on her fudge brownies. She opened the oven door just a bit, enough to peek inside. The scent of cocoa drifted into her nose as she eyed the mixture slightly rising inside the pan.
“Hmmm, just perfect,” she thought to herself.
And since there didn’t seem to be a rush, Beatrice didn’t feel the need to use honeysuckle, crushed into fine dust, to speed up the cooking time.
After checking on the brownies, Beatrice grabbed the cookie dough inside the mixing bowl and plopped it on top of the flour. Sometimes she liked to do things herself so she sprinkled flour on the rolling pin, gripped the handles, and started to flatten the dough, making sure not to roll it out too thin or leave it too thick. She searched the drawer by her hip for the star and flower-shaped cutters.
It was just a batch of chocolate chip cookies; no matter how simple the recipe was, it still worked its magic. The combination of ingredients granted everyone a taste of serendipity. These were for customers who simply wanted something delicious.
She was cutting into the cookie dough when she felt it. Emotions usually didn’t affect her from such a distance unless it was strong. Extremely strong.
Beatrice instantly closed her eyes. Before she knew it, she dropped the cutter from her hand. She tried her best to breathe as the air began to shift around her tingling her skin. At first, she felt nothing, maybe a little empty, but that was nothing new. It was something she was almost too familiar with. But something was off.
It was a gradual feeling and soon the emptiness was overtaken by a shadow like some sort of dark monster hanging over her, holding her down but also crawling up her body with the intention of swallowing her into a never-ending abyss of desolation. She shook her head and quickly tried to move the cookie dough onto a pan before sliding them into the fridge. She swiftly turned off the ovens, pulling the brownies out onto the counters to cool down before making her way through the kitchen door toward the front of the bakery. It was an effort to escape the somber darkness, but it only followed her.
RING!
The bell signaled a customer entering. She attempted to ignore the intense urge to run away and hide. She just wanted to crawl into a corner and curl into herself, but she stayed rooted in front of the cash register, waiting for the customer to place their order. Beatrice wiped her hands on her apron in an attempt to get rid of the messy flour and bits of dough glued to her fingers. She did her best to plaster on a small smile and looked up to greet the customer.
Standing near the entrance was an older teen caught in the awkward transition from adolescence to adulthood. He slowly surveyed the room, slouched shoulders revealing weeks of fatigue as his eyes paused on one of the light fixtures. His face was small and thin with a solemn expression that seemed permanently sketched onto his face. The man blinked slowly and if he didn’t have long sandy blonde hair that fell in front of his eyes, Beatrice was sure she would be able to vividly see the dark bags underneath. He was average height and of skinny build, and the oversized, red hoodie he was wearing swallowed his form whole. She felt waves of nervousness from him, along with a hint of disappointment. The young man was fidgeting, playing with his fingers before he worked up the courage to walk up to the front counter.
“Uh, hi?”
As he spoke, she felt the shadow tighten around her body, almost suffocating her. She shook her head and blocked off all the thoughts threatening to consume her mind. Beatrice realized she was staring, so she squared her shoulders, took in a deep breath, and sent him a small smile in hopes of easing his emotions.
“I’m not sure if I’m in the right place, but I found out I failed my Spanish test today and my grade is at the point of no return right now.” He paused, collecting his thoughts, wondering why he so easily told a random person what was bothering him.
Like most, customers who came in would almost let all their worries and trouble tumble right out of their mouths inside this bakery. Unsure of why to many, including Beatrice herself, it just seemed like she had this aura around her. People couldn’t resist sharing all of their problems with her.
The young man found he couldn’t stop talking, it was like a dam had opened and the words just spilled out, “My friends told me I needed to come here. They said it was a place to go to lose all your worries and get your mind off things. Like a sort of pick me up.”
Beatrice smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, it never did. She use to spend time in the mornings practicing her smile in the mirror as it never came naturally to her.
Her thoughts returned to the customer in front of her, “I guess you can say that.”
“Right, uh, cool. Uhm so how exactly do I order?” His eyes darted around at the wall behind her looking for a menu.
“Well, A Taste of Serendipity is very unique but the ordering system is super simple. All you have to do is tell me what kind of dessert or pastry you’re craving, and then everything else will be a surprise, from the flavors to the decorations.” Her customer stared at her skeptically but she could only offer him a smile. Micah had told her it sounded suspicious and that some customers would hesitate. But all she needed was for the customers to have enough trust in her to be able to help them, even if they didn’t know it yet.
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” Beatrice replied, nodding.
“Okay then,” he said after a moment of silence, “I guess I’ll get an order of cupcakes?”
“Alright, one order of cupcakes coming up and I have the perfect recipe for you,” the baker said as the man paid for his cupcakes, “Just take a seat and I’ll bring them out to you when it’s ready.” Beatrice didn’t wait for a reply as she was eager to start baking, and even more eager to get rid of the looming shadow trailing behind her. She wanted the despair to not only disappear from her but also from the young man.
Stepping back into her kitchen, her comfort zone, Beatrice took a minute to feel the young man’s emotions. She knew whatever he was feeling was dark and heavy from the initial shadow that suffocated her before he even walked through the door. But sometimes she just wanted to finally feel something, anything at all even just for a little bit.
After a moment, she rolled up her sleeves and focused on baking the cupcakes. She went into the corner where a separate stove was that was surrounded by pots of honeysuckle. Over the stove was a lamp radiating the same light rays as the sun. Beatrice filled a pot with water before placing it on the hot stovetop. She plucked some honeysuckle petals and plopped them into the water. She flicked her pale hands at the ingredients laying on top of the counter making the wet and dry ingredients mix themselves. She let the honeysuckle simmer under the light rays before going over to inspect the mixture.
Beatrice kept her eyes on the clock making sure as soon as 10 mins passed, and no later, she took the glowing honeysuckle water and poured it into the batter. She flicked her fingers again to combine everything. She then sprinkled some leftover honeysuckle dust into the mixture, allowing the dessert to bake faster.
Once she saw the mixture was a thin, chocolatey batter with a bright shine, she snapped her finger and the bowl levitated to pour itself into the cupcake liners. The pan floated into the oven when she moved her hands so. She started making the frosting—a vanilla buttercream with blue food coloring. When the cupcakes finished baking, she took them out of the oven and they cooled instantly with help from the honeysuckle dust. Scooping the frosting into a piping bag, Beatrice made quick work to swirl the frosting on top. For the final touch, she added yellow sprinkles. She stepped back and looked at the final products. The rich chocolate bottom looked spongy and moist topped with a sky blue swirl frosting and yellow sprinkles. It was almost shimmering in the light.
“Perfect,” she thought to herself, “Chocolate to lift someone’s mood when they’re down, a sky blue vanilla buttercream to help heal the insecurities and calm the anxiety, yellow sprinkles to cheer him up, and the honeysuckle will give him happiness, good memories, and warmth, especially after the 10-minute soak under the sunlight.”
She boxed up four cupcakes into a box, tied it off with a ribbon, and quickly brought the finished products out to the young man waiting at one of the tables near the door. He smiled gratefully at Beatrice when she handed him the box, “I hope you enjoy!”
Beatrice left him with the cupcakes and walked back to the kitchen area. She leaned with her back on the door and waited.
Nothing happened.
Beatrice stared blankly ahead as she thought back through her recipe, wondering if something went wrong in the process. She frowned as her shoulders sank, suddenly tired. Too exhausted to fight the gloominess looming over her as the young man’s feelings influenced her. She felt something creeping up her neck, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as she felt herself choke up. A cry for help danced on the tip of her tongue while at the same time, her throat constricted feeling like there was something tightly squeezing her vocal cords. Her mind became plagued with disappointments and self-pity. She felt as if she wasn’t enough.
Why couldn’t I be like everyone else? What kind of spirit am I if I can’t even overcome my own fear? How much time can I spend running away and hiding inside the bakery, burying myself in my work? Why can’t I bring myself to finally—
The air shifted again. The change was almost instantaneous. Beatrice felt like a bucket of water was thrown on her, dragging her away from the muddy thoughts. The shadowy hand no longer pulled her in but instead pulled her out of the downward spiral her thoughts were heading towards. She felt lighter, no longer held down by the dark shadow. She peered through the little window of the door to see the young man had taken a bite from the cupcake. A big smile was on his face as he dove in for another bite.
Beatrice couldn’t help but mirror him. She smiled and watched him finish one cupcake before closing the box. She observed him leave and heard the little bell that signaled his departure.
The deafening silence was back. The emptiness crawled back and Beatrice welcomed it. Beatrice released a long sigh before turning around, retrieving the dough from the fridge to finish baking the chocolate chip cookies. But she couldn’t help thinking to herself, “Wherever you are, whatever you’re dealing with, I hope you remember the little happiness given to you. I hope it was enough to keep you going, even if for a little bit. Because who knows when you’ll get to feel it again. I know I won’t.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Music was heard from outside the apartment as Beatrice floated up the stairs gripping the bag of take-out boxes. Micah was blaring her rock music and Beatrice already knew what she was about to feel. As she got closer to the door, she felt inspiration flow through her with a hint of excitement. It made her want to bake a Baked Alaska while doing cartwheels across the kitchen. Beatrice fazed through the door and saw exactly what she expected; Micah was in the living room dancing in front of her easel using her paintbrush as a microphone. Beatrice saw her long black hair swing back and forth as she attempted to do the wave.
Feeling eyes on her, Micah turned around to see her roommate staring at her. She then belted the next lines in the song and extended an arm out to Beatrice inviting her to join. The latter rolled her eyes before placing the bag on the ground and grabbing the arm held out towards her. The solo performance turned into a duet as the roommates danced and sang together.
Her heart was racing and she couldn’t stop smiling. In a way, she felt light somehow, lighter than usual for someone who is always light on her feet. These were rare moments where everything felt real like her smile was real, the ease and contentment she felt were real, and all her worries didn’t exist.
“TAKE MY HANDS NOW. YOU ARE THE ‘CAUSE OF MY EUPHORIA!” They belt out together at the top of their lungs, not caring if their neighbors could hear their off-key singing through the thin walls of their apartment. Beatrice couldn’t help wondering, “Is this what euphoria feels like?”
And as the performance drew to an end, they both fell onto their plush couch trying to catch their breath.
Beatrice turned towards Micah, “So, is this what you did all day?”
“Pretty much.”
“Are you hungry? I bought Chinese take-out.”
“Hell yeah! You know I can never turn down food.” Micah grabbed Beatrice’s hand and pulled her towards the bag, forgotten on the floor. She picked it up with her other hand and moved toward their dining table.
They unpacked the boxes from the bag and soon the table was covered with boxes of fried rice, lo mein, and stir-fried veggies. The room was silent as the two stuffed their mouths. Micah was the first to break the silence as she asked, “How was your day? How was the bakery?”
“You know, just the usual. Same thing that happens every day.” Beatrice said after finishing the mouthful of noodles in her mouth.
“Bee, I don’t like bringing this up but do you know what tomorrow is?” Micah watched the other fidgeting in her seat, repeatedly stabbing her chopsticks in the lo mein.
“September 9th,” Beatrice paused before continuing quietly, “but why does that matt—”
“You know exactly why it matters!” Beatrice’s mouth snapped shut when her friend interrupted her loudly. “You know tomorrow is a really meaningful day,” Micah paused before continuing, “Are you going to visit your grave?”
She hesitated before answering, “I really shouldn’t, do I even have a right to visit it?”
“Of course, you do. What are you—?”
“It just doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t seem like I’m visiting myself. It’s like I’m visiting a stranger. Hell, I can’t even explain how I feel right now. I—I mean all I feel is sadness but that’s your sadness I’m feeling and—”
This was one of those moments Beatrice thinks she would’ve been grateful that she couldn’t feel anything, but no. It was a touchy subject but her friend always got fired up about it which meant Beatrice did too. She stayed silent and stared at the table trying to keep her friend’s feelings from affecting her. But of course, she failed at it.
Her body suddenly tensed and started to get antsy. It was like a wave of fatigue washed over her, but she couldn’t sleep. She began fidgeting, bouncing her feet on the floor, and playing with her fingers. She wanted to move but she felt rooted to her seat. Her breathing became shallow and faster as she struggled to catch her breath. W-what is happening to me?
Suddenly, she felt hands gripping her tightly turning her to the side as Micah’s face came into view. “Beatrice, I need you to focus on my voice. Listen to what I’m saying. Deep breaths okay? Breath in.” Beatrice stared at Micah and did as she was told. She inhaled and held it before releasing it as the other instructed her to.
But it wasn’t working. It felt like her throat kept tightening with every breath she took. She felt Micah panicking, but it only made things worse for Beatrice as she began panicking with her too.
“Shit, shit, holy shit, fuck, oh my god,” was all Beatrice heard as Micah ran somewhere.
Micah stepped into the kitchen and headed straight for the cabinet above the fridge. There sat a jar decorated to resemble a calico cat. She made quick work to grab the jar and reached inside for a sugar cookie that was sparkling as if coated in a thin layer of fairy dust. She scarfed down the cookie as quickly as possible in hopes to relieve the emotions Beatrice was feeling from her.
The tightness lifted, taking all the panic and worry away till all that was left behind was the feeling of calmness. Micah left the kitchen and floated over to Beatrice who was still sitting where she left her. She was attempting to catch her breath, but she now had a look of serenity painted across her face.
“Hey, are you okay?” Micah asked softly without wanting to alarm her.
“Yeah, yeah. I am now. What just happened?”
“Bee, you know I didn’t mean to do that to you right? I never meant to make you go through that. I had to run to the emergency cookie jar that you keep for me in case you felt too much from me. You were breathing heavily and then I could see you have trouble breathing, it was like you were choking on something. And it was all because of me,” Micah pulled her into a tight hug and whispered, “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Micah—”
“I’m not pressuring you to go. I know how hard it is for you, I just wanted the best for you and I thought it might help to go visit.”
“Micah, you were only looking out for me, I know you want the best for me. I get it but seriously I am fine. Trust me, you eating the cookie really helped. I feel seriously mellowed out.”
Her friend lightly shoved her, “Don’t say it like that, it doesn’t sound right. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, and you want to know how I know,” She saw Micah nod, “Because I’m okay if you’re okay. Now, how about we eat some ice cream and watch a rom-com?”
“But you hate romcoms?”
“Yeah, but you like them so why not.”
Beatrice didn’t hear an answer but suddenly heard sniffles coming from the other.
“Stop,” she pointed a finger at Micah, “If you cry, I cry.”
Micah gave her a smile. “You know I’m sensitive.”
“I know, I don’t really know how we’re friends,” Beatrice replied dryly.
“Oh trust me, you may not have felt it but I did. We were destined to be friends,” Micah exclaimed before tackling her friend in a tight hug. She began dragging her and they went to the living room for a much-needed girls’ night.
*author's note, I wrote the beginning of this story as an assignment for a class a few years ago. I am still a fairly new writer and I am aware the writing style might be bad. This was also written during the time when I was a bit too into name and color meanings hence the names of the characters and the emphasis on colors in the bakery design and baked goods. I'd like to think my writing style has changed since I wrote this. There are so many things I would change about it, but it will do for now. However, I've decided to still post and continue working on this story as a way to help me get out of my writer's block. And who knows? Maybe one day, I'll return to the storyline and rewrite it. I know the beginning is a bit slow, but thank you for reading. It means a lot to me.
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