Out of the Wreckage

Jordan lay in bed, but there was something wrong with it – something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. With a frown, Jordan reached out, her frown deepening when her fingers only felt cold, empty sheets. “Babe?” Jordan yawned sleepily, rolling over in the lofty, fluffy queen bed.

No answer but the sounds of someone in the kitchen, muffled by the shut bedroom door. Jordan groaned, but slowly made her way out of bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily all the while. When she opened the door, she was greeted by the smell of coffee and freshly baked bread. Jordan smiled to herself and headed downstairs with a bit of a bounce in her step now.

“Hey, babe, what’s for – oh my goodness.”

“It looked a lot easier on the internet,” Misha huffed, tossing her bangs out of her face so she could wipe her flour-covered nose on her apron. The kitchen was in complete chaos – eggshells, measuring spoons and cups, the sugar container, several jugs of several types of milk, all sorts of pots on the stove…

“Uh, what the hell were you trying to make?” Jordan laughed, gingerly making her way towards Misha. The floor had suffered quite a bit from Misha’s culinary concoction, as well.

“Butterscotch sticky buns,” Misha said proudly, opening the oven. “From scratch. As in, I made the fucking dough and everything. You’d better enjoy this, Jordan, I made them just for you. I know how much you love it when I use alcohol in my cooking…” Misha rambled on and on, getting the oven mitts so she could take out the tray of sticky buns.

Jordan grinned and kissed Misha’s cheek. “You’re amazing.”

Misha blushed but said nothing, just stirred pecans into the small pot of glaze before pouring the mixture over the buns. “They’re too hot to eat right now,” she said quickly before Jordan could grab one.

Jordan sighed longingly before going to the fridge for some strawberries. “What time do you have to be at work?”

Misha glanced at the stove clock. “At eight, of course…you?”

“Mish, you know I don’t open the studio until ten,” Jordan laughed as she helped herself to some coffee. Jordan had been living with Misha for about about six months now.

In their three-story house, Misha had sovereignty of the second floor. It was practically a smaller version of her restaurant. Jordan’s photography studio consumed the entire basement, complete with sets, backdrops, props, a changing room, and a dark room. The third floor consisted of their room, the guest room, their respective bathrooms, and the study.

“Lucky bitch,” Misha joked, pouring herself a cup of coffee as well. “What do you do after we have breakfast together every morning, then?”

“I go back to sleep for a few hours,” Jordan admitted shamelessly, forking another sugar cured strawberry into her mouth.

Jordan’s studio was open from ten to five. Misha’s restaurant was open from eight to eleven, noon to four, and five to nine, with the menus varying depending on the time of day. Misha served breakfast from eight to eleven, lunch from noon to four, and dinner from five to nine. Sometimes she came home for the free hours between, but more often than not she was tidying up the kitchen or taking inventory or other restaurant business.

Misha rolled her eyes, but affectionately flattened out Jordan’s hair, which strongly resembled a bird’s nest at the moment. “Hey, I meant to ask you – do you have any jobs planned for next month?”

Jordan paused for a moment before taking out her iPhone to look at her calendar. “Doesn’t look like it…why?”

Misha put an arm around Jordan and led her to the kitchen table where they could both sit down. Misha held Jordan’s hand tightly, making Jordan start to worry.“How would you feel about visiting Switzerland?”

Jordan’s face went completely blank. “Misha.”

“We’ll take a plane to Zurich, and then there’s this lovely little rural town called Scuol a few hours away. It’s up in the mountains. I know how much you love mountains, Jordan, don’t even try to deny it. There’s hiking, and biking, and white water rafting, and all sorts of stuff we could do!”

Jordan broke Misha’s grip on her hand. “Misha.”

“It’d only be for a week!”

Jordan dragged her palm down her face. “Misha, please tell me you haven’t bought the tickets already.”

Misha sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I told you, Jordan, you don’t need to worry about money. I’m taking good care of all the accounts.”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

Misha’s delicate brows came together in a frown. “No, I haven’t bought the fucking tickets.”

Jordan practically melted in relief. “Misha, I’ve told you how uncomfortable it makes me when you spend more money than is necessary on me!”

Misha sighed and stared at the bottom of her coffee mug. “But I like indulging you… Besides, if I don’t, you certainly won’t! It’s ok to spoil yourself a little bit every now and then, alright, Jordan? Besides, I’m pretty sure you haven’t taken any vows of poverty or something like that,” Misha scoffed.

Jordan said nothing and stirred her coffee absentmindedly. She would never tell Misha that she didn’t like being “spoiled” because it reminded her of how he used to spoil her. Jordan never told Misha about her family, period. She chalked that up to her family being a bunch of ignorant homophobes… but not really.

That’s what Jordan had told Misha when Misha asked about her family. Jordan had no idea how her family would have reacted to her change in sexuality because she never bothered to tell them about it. She was sure that Jake wouldn’t have minded, but she just didn’t want to deal with all that family drama.

“Maybe not next month, ok?” Jordan said quietly after a while. “Just…give me a heads up when you’re about to plan big things like this, please? Instead of you making plans for us, let’s plan these kinds of things together. Ok?” Misha nodded, infinitely happier now. “Ok,” Jordan sighed in relief, finishing her coffee.

The moment she put her mug down on the table again, Misha kissed her. Jordan crawled into Misha’s lap, deepening the kiss, until the stove timer went off. “What was that for?” Jordan asked, her attention drawn to the stove.

“Oh…that means the sticky buns are cool enough to eat now.” Misha laughed at how quickly Jordan left her embrace. “Oh, so you like sticky buns more than me?” Misha joked as she joined Jordan at the island in the kitchen.

“So good,” Jordan moaned, licking her fingers. Misha narrowed her eyes before taking a bite of the sticky bun that Jordan had in her hands. After a few seconds of thoughtful chewing, Misha made a displeased face. “What?”

“The dough’s not…I don’t know, it’s not the way I imagined it would taste, that’s all,” Misha muttered, scowling at the sticky buns.

“They taste great. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. You don’t have a degree in the culinary arts…Well, I’m gonna go get ready for work, help yourself,” Misha called over her shoulder as she made her way back up to their room.

Jordan soon started on her second sticky bun.

Her life had never been better.