The Difference Between California and New York

My alarm went off sharply and rang its way into my ears, but I was already awake. I felt restless. I wasn’t a morning person in any sense of the word, and I hated having a job that required me to get up before the sun did. But despite everything, despite all the things in my head telling me to stay where I was, to call out sick, to ignore the world, just as I do every day, I got up out of bed and meandered around my empty apartment.

I fixed myself up as I took a shower and got dressed and fiddled with my hair and makeup. I never understood my logic in trying to look so nice when I knew by the end of the day I would look like a floury mess, but I did it every day, without fail.

Among meeting the New York streets once again, I bought myself a cup of coffee from the café that stood a block from my apartment. I had become very entwined into a routine that I never knew was forming; waking up, getting ready, getting coffee, going to work. When I really thought about it, it sounded so boring, and I hated boring. But I had no other choice, it’s not like I could quit working at the bakery, and even if I did, I wouldn’t want to. I just wish it didn’t take up so much of my life.

After an eventless wait at the bus stop and an even more eventless ride to the block the bakery was on, the wind had picked up harshly as I unlocked Flour’s. The strong scent of bread and cakes and cookies filled my nose with a pleasurably familiarity. I was the first person there, as I always was. It was my duty to take out and ultimately finish what hadn’t been finished last night for the new day. Sandra and Molly would be coming later in the day.

There were others who worked in the bakery with us, but the two of them were the only other employees that I really got along with and was able to speak with like a normal human being. I never understood why, but I just didn’t have the desire to speak with someone who I didn’t find intellectually stimulating. And Sandra and Molly were the closest to that I was going to find in the bakery. Besides, they were the nicest in my opinion.

I had known Molly longer than Sandra. Molly started working at Flour’s the year that I had, and we often got most of the newbie work together, hence creating an unspoken friendship between us. Sandra began working about a year ago, and as most things go, she was still new, but she was an awfully quick learner, and she was pretty good with the jokes. It’s rare that someone other than Lindsey or Daniela could get me to produce a gut wrenching laugh-until-your-stomach-hurts kind of laugh. But Sandra was pretty close second.

From the moment I got to Flour’s to until about eight o’clock, I worked and baked alone, which was perfectly fine with me. I would often turn on some mellow music and hum along with it while I let my hands and fingers sprinkle magic over the dough and batters. It’s was something that I looked forward to every morning. I mean sure, I could do the same thing at home, but it was different here. From where the bakery was placed, as the sun rose, it beamed in rays of light that lit the store on fire, and each and every cake and bread seemed to reflect the light; that along with the intoxicating scent of the heat and the baking, it was like a little bit of heaven.

That time in the morning is often another excuse for me to over-think things, which had subconsciously become a common pastime of mine. Thoughts and memories of thousands of things would pass through my head as I baked, some of them my favorites, some of them my worst, but all nonetheless streaming through a river of thought. But today was different, because a lot of those common thoughts and memories didn’t come today, but instead were replaced with something else that had been silently waiting at the backdoor of my mind, something I didn’t want to think about.

It was hard not to think of Luke, and I couldn’t understand why. In the grand scheme of things, the events of last night were miniscule and insignificant. We were just two innocent people having an innocent talk, and that was it. Maybe I had just been alone for so long that really any interaction with a male is enough to stimulate my dreams and thoughts for a while. That must be what it is. Because whether or not I wanted to, I would have to let the thoughts and memories of Luke go. I was a speck of dust compared to the thousands of people in this city, let alone this state. He was already a memory.

But he still often crept into my mind as I baked. And there he stayed until I heard the chime above the door ring, and I looked up to see a bright, but very cold face walk through.

“Hey!” she called out. Molly began to slip her jacket off and hang it on the coat rack by the door. She pulled her scarf off and did the same. “Annabel, you here?”

“Yeah, around back.” I heard the floorboards beneath her before I saw her come up beside me. She poked her head around the bend before the rest of her body followed. I didn’t have to look at her face to know that she was trying to figure out what I was making at the moment. I had two tiers on the cake I was working on, and had already iced it over, and I began to work on the design, but I hadn’t really been going for any sort of style. Often I just created what I felt like it, and I made it look as beautiful as a cake could be.

“You sure do have a knack for making simple beauty,” I heard her say as her body passed from one side of me to the other. I smiled slightly, my eyes attached to the cake.

“Thanks, but you could do this just as easily as I could.” I heard her pulling her apron off of the hanger, and then slipping it on and beginning to tie it around back.

“Yeah, physically, but I could never come up with the designs you do. Or do them as well as you. You have an unnaturally steady hand when it comes to the art of icing.” I liked hearing Molly speak. She came from Texas, and she sure sounded like it. My smile kept on as I intricately drew a rose petal on the vine I had already made.

“Years of practice, Mol. Hey could you do me a favor and throw that batch of cupcakes in the oven? They’re sitting on the counter over there.” I jerked my head over to my right, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Molly head herself on over. Cupcakes were her specialty, or at least that’s what she always said. She thought they were cuter and easier than real cakes, and decorating them was much more fun. I had to disagree, but it was only a matter of her opinion over mine, so it really didn’t matter.

“What flavor are these?”

“Red velvet.”

“And you only made twelve?” I shook my head even though I knew she wasn’t looking at me. My hands remained steady on the petal.

“There are two batches in the oven right now,” I glanced up at the clock. “And actually they should be ready to come out. Check on them, would you?” The loud and ghastly creaking sound of the oven door emitted, and I could feel the newly exposed heat from where I stood. I paused my icing for a moment and turned my attention towards Molly. She was bending over trying to look into the oven; I could see waves of heat from where the cupcakes sat inside.

“I think they might still need a few minutes.” She stood back up and closed the oven, giving off the same creaking sound, only quicker this time, followed by a loud bang when it had closed. I always hated those sounds. “What else had you started this morning?”

A good majority of my morning had been spent on the cake and cupcakes, but as I was waiting I had began to knead dough to make a loaf of cinnamon bread. It was still sitting where I had left it. I pointed over to where the dough sat on the counter, not far from where the cupcakes had been.

“I had meant to make that into a loaf of cinnamon bread. Think you could finish the job for me?” She waved me off and slid her smile to one side.

“I could do it with my eyes closed.” I turned my attention back to the petals. They were pink and red petals on a vine of deep earth green, with a few thorns sticking out. Sandra had always advised me to not put the thorns on; she said it made it look more violent. But I always thought it just made it look prettier.

Once finished, I carefully lifted up the tray that the cake was placed on and slowly moved it from the back to the front of the bakery, and even more carefully, I slid it into the display case. I was about to turn around and head into the back, when my eye was caught as I saw Sandra pass by the window, and then pull the door open. She looked even colder than Molly did when she came in.

“I think if I tore off my arm it would be a Popsicle,” she said once we made eye contact. I chuckled slightly.

“It’s supposed to be even colder tomorrow. Drop below twenty degrees even.” She shivered at my comment. I began to turn back as I heard her unzip her coat. I had returned back to where Molly was. I liked talking to Molly and Sandra only because I didn’t feel obligated to speak. I only did when I wanted to, and I enjoyed that freedom.

“So, how was your night last night?” I asked indirectly to both of them since they had taken off together. I glanced between the two of them, and both echoed a smile that seemed to automatically creep up, and eventually explode into laughter. I grabbed a piece of dough and began to knead it mindlessly.

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” Sandra asked to Molly, who was now back with us and tying her apron around the back of her. I had always been jealous of Sandra’s apron; it was the prettiest in my opinion. She was larger than both Molly and I, and the aprons we had in the bakery wouldn’t fit her that well. Along with baking, she loved to knit and sew, and so she made her own apron, and it had a beautiful pattern of white, purple, and blue designs. I always bugged her to make me one, but she always said they were one of a kind.

“You can,” Molly said though a laugh. I looked between them again, eyeing both of them trying to decipher the telepathic code they were sending.

“Tell me what?” At that, apparently I had said something extremely funny because both of them burst into bouts of girlish laughter again. Sandra came and walked closer to where Molly and I stood, and Molly paused whatever she had been doing with the dough and turned to look at me. Both of their eyes were now on me, and I didn’t quite feel uncomfortable, but it wasn’t relaxing either.

“Well, Annabel, you have a secret admirer.” My hands paused, and my brain stalled for a second trying to process her words. I wiped my hands aimlessly on my apron.

“What?” I felt a look of confusion and utter shock wash over my face. The last time anyone had ever told me that I had a secret admirer was in second grade.

“When Molly and I went out last night, we went to Tay’s up town.” Tay’s was a really nice bar that was only a few blocks away from the bakery. It was a common hot stop for really anyone who lived in this area. “And when we were sitting down at a table, scoping out the place for cuties, some guy walked up to us.”

“He was really cute,” Molly piped in.

“More than that, he was gorgeous Annabel.” They sounded like tenth grade girls swooning over boys in the bathroom. I kept looking between both of them, trying to see if they were joking with me or being serious. But from their bouncy smiles and laughs, I couldn’t tell.

“He came up to us and asked us if we worked at the bakery down the block. We said yes, and asked if anyone else who worked there was here and we said no. And he got the biggest saddest look on his face.”

“Imagine the cutest puppy dog eyes times a million,” Molly added once again.

“And so we asked him why he had such a long face, and he said that he had a crush on one of the bakers at Flour’s!” I laughed slightly, hundreds of possibilities running through my head; most of them trying to figure out who this mystery man might be.

“How do you know it’s me he’s talking about?” Just then, the buzzer for the oven began to boom through the entire bakery, a shrill sound that could make the deaf cringe. Molly instinctively turned around and made a B-line for the oven right away, shutting the timer off within seconds of being in reach. She opened the oven and, with mitted hands, began to take the tray of cupcakes out. I turned my attention back to Sandra. She was giving me an unexplainable look, like I should know something I don’t.

“I know he’s talking about you because we asked what this girl of his looked like. And he said that she was tall and thin, and had curly blonde hair,” she said as she lightly pulled on a piece of my hair.

“And there’s no one else in the bakery with hair like yours,” Molly called from back by the oven. She had already gotten the cupcakes out and was in the process of putting the other batch in. I crossed my arms.

I liked the idea of having a secret admirer, I thought it was mysterious and romantic, but now that I actually had one I was kind of let down. My idea of a secret admirer had always been someone who would leave you roses on your doorstep with no name attached; someone who would write you a poem about how you shined like the sun and illuminated the sky like the moon. But I guess that’s just not realistic.

I looked between the two of them, as Molly had come back from the stove and stood beside Sandra once again. They both looked at me expectantly, as if I was about to ask where this guy was so I could go to him and get swept off my feet. But that wouldn’t be realistic either.

“Alright,” I said eyeing them. “So what exactly am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He said he comes into the bakery every day. It’s hard to explain what he looks like, but Sandra and I would know him when we see him. We told him to come in at three today.”

“And what am I supposed to do when he gets here? Run through the crowds of people and leap into his arms?” A thought suddenly occurred to me which hadn’t before. “Wait a minute, three? That’s my lunch break.” Sandra and Molly exchanged a look between each other, which followed with Molly rolling her eyes and Sandra shaking her head at me.

“That wasn’t exactly a coincidence.” At the realization, one that I probably made a little too slowly, a shook my head between the both of them, a drooped expression shadowed my face.

“You want me to talk to him?”

“That’s generally what humans do with each other, yes,” Sandra said as she put a hand on her hip. “Come on, it’s just a quick talk.”

Three o’clock was hours away and yet my stomach already began to churn with a mixture of nerves and anxiousness. I wasn’t good on dates, I always messed them up somehow. And it makes it even ten times worst because this time, I don’t even know the guy.

“A quick talk? What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, heard you fancied me! That’s awesome but I’ve never heard of you a day in my life, sorry!’” I heard Molly laugh, but I heard nothing from Sandra other than her breathing.

“Oh quit it honey. Don’t be so dramatic. Just talk to the poor kid. Who knows, you might like him.”

It was a possibility. I might end up liking him. But it was also a possibility that I would end up liking him but I would somehow scare him away or try to be too friendly or just generally do something dumb and embarrassing and make him second guess his choice in women.

I feared for which one was more likely.