Unhealthy Coping Mechanism

Chapter 23

Upon his return home the next day, Frank received a half-tackle hug from Sam. "I missed you too, buddy," he said with a laugh. "How was Thanksgiving?"

"I saw Santa and a huuuge dinosaur!"

"That must have been some parade. Now, what's your momma got cooking tonight? I'm starving!"

Sam's smile shrank. "Cake."

"Again? Boy, she sure is trying to spoil you rotten." Frank shrugged off his coat, before sauntering into the kitchen with Sam at his heels. "It's good to see you again, babe," he said as he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug and kissed her cheek. "How've you been holdin' up?"

"Fine." Harriet stirred a dark brown batter the same color as her skin, barely even glancing at him. What kind of question was that?

"Do you need help making dinner?" he asked.

"Dinner?" Harriet's eyes widened as she glanced at the clock. "I didn't realize it had gotten so late."

"It's alright, babe. You've had a lot on your plate. You want me to whip us up a little something, or should we order pizza?"

"I vote pizza!" Sam said.

"Make that two votes for pizza," Harriet said. Frank's last attempt at cooking still haunted her taste buds.

"Pizza it is! I'd order some garlic bread to go with that, but I'd better save room for that cake."

Or the cookies piled on a plate in the middle of the kitchen table, or the brownies beckoning from beside a loaf of pumpkin bread. Harriet had kept herself busy while he was away, so much so that Sam's stomach stood out and her shirt clung to her curves.

"The cake's for Ollie," Harriet said. "Vicky brought water guns for Sam's party, so I figured I'd better return the favor."

"And the other stuff?" Frank gestured to the rest of the smorgasbord.

"Half the school's going to be there," Harriet said with a shrug. "You know how Vicky is, always looking for an excuse to show off Eleanor's mansion."

"Just thinking about how expensive that's going to be makes my wallet hurt. Is she doing something crazy again this year?"

"She's hiring twice as many clowns, renting a jumbo bouncy castle, and having a magician bring out Ollie's new pony. Oh, and I think they're doing fireworks, so we'd better have our earplugs ready."

"Jeez, that boy is spoiled! Speaking of which," he said as Sam's seat at the kitchen table groaned beneath him, "don't you think you ought to cut back on the sweets a teeny bit?"

"He's a growing boy," Harriet said with a scowl. "Besides, it's the holidays. Don't pretend Hershey's didn't fatten you up."

Frank winced. "Nothing will put you off of chocolate quite like taking a couple hundred shots of the stuff." He dropped the issue of Sam growing noticeably wider instead of taller and ordered a large pizza for them to share.

It wasn't long before the scent of pepperoni invaded the kitchen. Harriet wrinkled her nose as Frank opened the box with a flourish. There it was, the greasy cheese and tomato sauce-covered bread that had dared to interrupt her baking session. Not even the olives scattered haphazardly across the mozzarella could put it in her good graces.

"Not hungry?" Frank asked. He'd practically inhaled two slices and had just started his third, struggling to break off a long strand of cheese dangling from the tip.

Harriet shrugged. Maybe she would have been if this had come out of her oven, but that was an idea for another day.

Sam nudged aside the crusts he'd neglected in favor of the cheesy goodness. "I'm stuffed," he said with a burp. "Wanna play Extinction?"

Frank snorted. "You're the only kid I know who'd rather pretend an asteroid hit the planet instead of begging for dessert." He stifled a yawn. "I'm gonna have to pass tonight, buddy. The plane ride wiped me out, but I bet your momma's down for a little fun."

As Frank retreated to their bedroom, Harriet pushed herself away from the table. At last, she could stop wasting her time and get back to baking.

"Maybe tomorrow," she told Sam as he balled up napkins to use as makeshift meteors.

"But I wanna play nooow!"

She sidestepped one of the cloth missiles he hurled at her. "It's still the Jurassic, honey. The meteor won't hit until tomorrow."

That was usually enough to make him leave her in peace and play with his dinosaurs. She started measuring out the ingredients she'd need for a batch of cupcakes as she contemplated what to vent about next. It might be Sam, especially if he kept stomping on the floor in an attempt to simulate an earthquake.

She tuned out his whining as she leveled out her sugar. Maybe a kitchen scale would make a good anniversary present, she thought as she squinted at the side of the measuring cup. She'd have to drop some hints to Frank.

A wadded-up napkin thudded against her elbow, sending white crystals spilling across the countertop. "The Triceratops are gone!" Sam yelled as he prepared another missile. "The next one's aiming at the Spinosauruses."

Harriet's hand trembled as she put the measuring cup down. All that perfectly good sugar, wasted. She glared at Sam. "Knock it off," she hissed.

"Not if you don't make me extinct first!" He kicked up one of the napkins, but she let it fall back to the floor and refused to join in the game.

In a flash, she closed the distance between them and closed her hand around his wrist, as fragile as a wafer. "I told you to stop it," she said slowly as she tightened her grip.

He squirmed in her grasp as his skin darkened under her fingers. His voice took on the telltale whine of a meltdown about to start as he yanked his arm back. "That hurts!"

Harriet sighed. He was determined to get in her way, first by pestering her with his stupid game, then by making such a ruckus it was only a matter of time before his father heard them. If he wouldn't leave her alone, she might as well have him help her.

She bent down and kissed the marks she'd left on his wrist until he stopped crying. "Sorry, honey. Your momma's having a rough day. How would you feel about helping me bake?"

He wiped the last of the tears from his eyes. "Bake what?"

"Strawberry cupcakes."

"Only if I get to decorate them."

That was fine with her as long as it got him out of her hair.

"Consider yourself promoted," she said. "You can still taste test for me whenever you want, but from now on you'll be my sous chef."

She set him to work on the frosting while she handled the cupcakes themselves. "Do you want to know what my secret ingredient is?"

"What?"

"I don't know if I should tell you," she said with a mischievous smirk. "You might tell your dad."

He pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key before leaning in.

"If you tell whatever you're making what's bothering you," she whispered, "it'll taste a thousand times better. Wanna try?"

He opened his mouth, only to close it and give her a sideways glance. "You promise you won't get mad?"

She put her hands over her ears. "Can't get mad if I can't hear it," she said. "Let it all out."

Sam leaned forward and whispered into the batter.