Memory Lane

Chapter Thirty Five

"What is done is done for the love of it- or not really done at all." -Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Thirty Five

As word of the party trickles through the halls this week, Quinn sends the rest of us a satisfied text that our word-of-mouth backup plan seems to be working. Meanwhile, some janitor probably thinks they can quit their job with the stacks of "100 dollar bills" they found in the trashcan where Quinn dumped them. Maybe they'll stop by the party...

The week has been flying by. It may only be Wednesday, but I feel like my week has been filled already. Between the Stallard's + Kendall celebrating Allen's 18th birthday out at dinner last night, a major history exam coming up tomorrow, and a math competition on the horizon that Allen has requested help in prepping for, I've barely had time to think of a dress for the party. Jesse offered to help me study, seeing as history is his area of expertise, but after thirty minutes we both quickly realized that while Jesse is incredibly intelligent, he's a horrible teacher and I had to come back to the Stallard's.

His history grade may not be suffering, but this exam will either keep me at an A or drop me down to barely maintaining a B. Teachers that only have a few grades in their gradebook, thus making exams weigh nearly 50% of our grade, will be the death of me...

So, after walking across the grass between our houses, I step inside the Stallard's house and into the scent of garlic and onions simmering on the stove. As the storm door creaks shut and my feet hit the hardwood floors of the living room, I peek around the corner and see Aunt June slaving away by the oven. I carefully take in the sight before me: the rest of the kitchen looks like a complete mess. Pots are strewn around the counters, there are multiple cutting boards sticking out of the bubbly sink, one knife laying dangerously on the edge of the counter (I really hope no raw chicken was involved with just one knife), various paper towels, flour and small cuttings of food scattered about.

Something about the scary concoction that Aunt June is attempting actually smells...soothing. Familiar. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's bursting through my body and wrapping around my heart.

"Aunt June?"

"Laura!" Startled, she swings around and her apron swings just a second delayed. "I thought you were studying with Jesse?"

"I was, until we realized his teaching style is extremely unproductive," I mutter, cautiously stepping into the kitchen as if the floor will explode beneath me. "Is everything okay here?"  Another waft of something sweet in the background of the strong garlic scent hits me, and this time it almost brings with it a memory.

"Yes! No. Well...yes. I'm just trying a new recipe and it's proving more difficult than I thought."

"New recipe?" I ask, caught somewhere between a cringe and a laugh.

"Newish... For me, at least."

A memory is right on the cusp of appearing, still hazy in my mind as the fan pushes the scents of the kitchen towards me. "I didn't think you liked cooking a whole lot?"

"Cooking doesn't like me," she corrects. "This recipe is worth it though. I'm making it for you."

"Me?" My eyes widen. "Why?"

"Because," Aunt June begins, wiping her hands off on a random dish towel. "Your eighteenth birthday is less than a week away, Laura. It's one of the biggest celebratory birthdays in your life and I want to help make it special."

I lean against the island, smiling at her. "One of?"

She waves a hand in the air, "Really, all of the fun celebrations happen while you're young. Sixteen, eighteen, twenty one, thirty... After that, it's only the decades you celebrate with another ache or pain to put up with. So, I want to help make your day special and decided to make your favorite meal." She glances at the mess of the kitchen. "Or, at least try to."