HAPPY | ✔

04.0 HONEY, I'M HOME

It was around nine or so when I finally let myself into my apartment.

The girls had been kind enough to consider my baby waiting for me at home and Celia, herself, had her two little ones to rush in to. We parted ways at eight, me with strict orders to report all notable developments in my budding romance, and the rest with flimsy promises to get together soon. So it always was, no doubt life would get in the way and a gathering like tonight's wouldn't reoccur until a month's time. But we would keep in touch and speak whenever we could, be it at work or over the phone, and when we were finally together again, it would feel like little to no time had passed.

"Honey, I'm home!"

The apartment was a cosy two bedroom affair, with the tiny kitchen flowing into the living room and a small bath. The space was limited, unlike Daniel's massive two story condo, but that was to be expected for affordability in New York.

"Already?"

Odette was in the kitchen, stirring away at something on the stove with a wooden spoon.

"Yeah," I made quick work of hanging my jacket up on the peg behind the door and kicking off my heels.

"But I thought you said it was girls' night?"

"It was."

I dropped my bag on the sofa and made my way to the fridge for some water. Though I hadn't drunk enough to get wasted, there was a delightful buzzing in my ears.

"Then how come you're home already? When Rachel had her birthday party last week, you let me stay out till ten," she pointed out with crumpled brows.

"Yeah well, Mommy missed you." I defended, taking a gentle sip of my crystal punch.

She looked up at that with an adorable frown, "You see me almost everyday Mom. You need a life," she stated matter-of-factly.

My mouth dropped open in shock and only slightly exaggerated hurt, "You take that back!"

"Nuh-uh, Granma always says you should never run from the truth," she tilted her chin up like the know-it-all she was and turned off the gas beneath the simmering pot.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." I rolled my eyes sulkily and drained my glass.

I made sure I came home to her, always. She was my daughter, and though my parents were always in the wings, willing to help, I never wanted them to feel like she was their responsibility.

She giggled, catching my pout, and hopped down from the short stool she utilized to compensate for her vertical challenge in the kitchen- God forbid one was to utter the cursed five letter word aloud. I often found it best not to think it less it slip out on accident.

"Where is your Granma anyway?" I washed out my glass quickly and set it aside to drain before moving to her side. "That smells amazing by the way."

"She's sleeping. I'm supposed to wake her up in half an hour for her shift at Martha's."

"Ahhh."

"And thank you. Could you move that pot over here Mom?"

The entire space smelt delightful- tomatoes, oregano, garlic. It was as if I had stepped into an Italian bistro instead of my own home.

With the assistance of an oven mitten I transferred the pot to the counter as she slid over the stool, climbed up on it and plugged in the blender.

"Granpa hasn't gotten in yet."

"Oh, ok."

I watched her ladle in the thick tomato sauce before sealing the top of the blender and starting it up to a low purr, until all it's contents were of her desired consistency.

She popped open the lid and watched a puff of steam escape with a contented smile.

"What is this for?" I asked curious, and hungry. Those chips did not hit the spot. Unconsciously, I found myself licking my lips. Pasta maybe? Meatballs?

"Pizza!"

The New Yorker in me squealed in delight.

"I've been doing some research for the last couple of days. This is my first try but I'm feeling pretty good about it."

She corked the blender closed and faced me with a grin.

"Well, I have the utmost faith in you." I matched her smile with one of my own and pulled at one of her plaits affectionately.

When my stomach grumbled loud enough for her to hear, she laughed and directed me to a plastic-wrapped glass bowl on top of the fridge.

"Mozzarella is in the fridge. Not the shredded stuff on the top shelf, the fresh portion beside the mayo," Odette wiped down a section of the counter before powdering the surface liberally, "The preshredded stuff has potato-starch in it that won't melt."

"Really?"

"Yup," she confirmed, popping the p.

She turned out the pizza dough unto the counter before cutting it into four portions with the largest knife in the kitchen.

"When did you find time to make dough from scratch?"

Odette was never the type to cut corners, if she was making pizza, she'd think it beneath her to use the fridged, store-bought stuff.

"I woke up really early so I could prep before school." She gave the dough a gentle pat, "It's had about fifteen hours to sleep and grow."

I chuckled, "Sleep and grow?"

"Yes!" She struggled for a minute, stumbling over her letters, "Fur..for...fer-ferment!" She smiled with warm cheeks.

At seven, I hadn't even know what fermentation was, much less how long it would take.

"Oh wow."

She spread the dough apart with her small hands before rolling it over her knuckles. I considered offering my assistance but thought better of it. If she needed my help she'd ask. I didn't want to crowd her and end up barred from the kitchen like last time.

"There's a pizza stone in the oven Mom, take it out for me please, but be careful, its hot."

Case in point.

I felt a blast of heat the second I opened the oven door, and if she hadn't told me before, that would have served as enough of a warning. I drew for the mitten a second time.

"I didn't know we had one of these."

"Oh I asked Granma to get one for me on her way home. The internet said I would need one."

"Oh."

She spooned the sauce onto the dough directly from the blender and grated the cheese herself. I watched her handle herself with pride.

"Where are we going with this topping wise, Chef?"

She giggled, loving the attention, "Hawaiian!"

Thankfully, pineapple on pizza was the one thing she and her idol, Mr Ramsay, disagreed on, because Hawaiian was my favourite.

I licked my lips in delight, "Sounds amazing."

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And by research, Odette means she's been binge watching Basics with Babish videos. Lol, so you can thank him for this one.

Next update will be some time tomorrow. As always, thank you for reading. COMMENT if you feel like and VOTE if you like it.