Strawberries

[quote][quote][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][center][size=150][b]☆ No, Mom! My Strawberries... ☆[/b][/size][/center][/font][/quote]

[quote][table][tr][td][quote][img]https://partylicious.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/white-chocolate-drip-cake-3-min.jpg[/img][/quote][/td][td]It was a particularly gray looking day, clouds hanging so low they seemed to be swallowing up the farmhouses dotting Bran. Farmers had taken their animals inside and bolted them tight in their pens, merchants had closed up shop for the day, spooked by the cold wind and ominous looking sky. A low fog had taken to roaming the streets, so thick rays of sunlight could be seen in patches, struggling to make it through the milky, swirling air.

And what was Earl doing? Well he was cooking. Or rather, he was TRYING to cook. He'd woken up in the morning with a determined smile and slid out of bed with a recipe book under one arm, the letter from Mr. Dunaid clutched tightly in the other hand.
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The whether outside was perfect for cooking, and his father was at his usual spot, haunched over the huge wooden table in the living room, small glasses pushed down his nose, squinting as his claw-like hands were tinkering with the pieces of a clock. Their owl, Atticus (Earl had a hand in naming it...) was perched on the old man's shoulder, looking at the clock just as curiously, and cooing wisely whenever Mr. Gray made a grumbling observation to himself, scribbling down his thoughts in a leather bound notebook kept near his right hand. So, in one sentence, all was well in the world.


[table][tr][td]Right up till the moment his mom walked in. Both Earl and Mr. Gray gave an identical inward groan, the exasperation visible on both their faces. "Rory," Mr. Gray said coldly, throwing a glare in her general direction. "I don't recall inviting you here. Why are you making shade to my doorstep?"

"I'm not!" she announced, striding in with her tacky firetruck-red boots and proceeding to wipe the mud off their soles on the mat. The mat Earl had bought as a decoration, not for practical use. Our boy winced, wrinkling his nose and biting his tongue to keep from crying fowl. His mom, as usual, went on with her...ahem...foolish life choices. "As you can see, I am now inside the house rather than on the doorstep." [/td][td][quote][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b2/07/93/b20793af39a24bbc023044db12823f9e.jpg[/img][/quote][/td][/tr][/table]


Earl couldn't help the small giggle, which earned him a dark glare from his father. Shutting up promptly, the small boy ducked into the kitchen, propping up his cookbook against the wall and preheating the oven. He'd memorized the recipe the night before (he may or may not have been reading it over obsessively over), but having the cookbook nearby never failed to make him smile. It was an expensive, hard cover, full color book, which had cost thirty bucks. His dad had palled when he'd seen the price, it was a little above what they could afford at the moment. But he'd bought it anyway. The autograph of the chef which had written it was neatly inscribed on the very first page, with a heart over the i and a swirled line underneath the name, which extended all the way to the bottom of the page, as if the writer had been in a rush.

While he was busy melting the white chocolate and preparing the batter, his mom had plopped herself onto the counter and begun eating the strawberries, her mouth stained with red and pink juice, clothes full of stray leaves and stems. "Mom, no!" Earl said, hurriedly taking the bowl from her in horror, to find it was already half empty. "My strawberries," he said, all the energy suddenly sapping out of him. Abracadabra! Setting the bowl on the counter, he ripped the apron off and walked out of the kitchen, tears pooling in his eyes, frustration taking a bite out of his composure as he locked the door to his room and crashed into the bed.

Because she always did this. Showed up only long enough to upset his father and wreak their lives. Didn't come when it mattered, just when she felt like it. The woman hadn't even fought for custody, leaving Earl's dad as soon as our boy had been born. And whenever she did show up, she ruined things.

From outside of his room came a miffled groan, followed by a loud knocking. "Baby what's wrong?" Rory demanded dramatically. Crashing onto the bed, Earl stuck his head under the gray blanket, gathering all the pillows and blankets around him into a sort of pile. Their warmth comforted the young boy. It felt like someone had their arms around him. "What do you even need that many strawberries for????" she demanded from outside the room. "I can magic you new ones!"

"Dad's clocks will break," Earl mumbled to himself, covering his ears and hoping she would go away. And then somehow, she'd forced the door open and was inside, throwing the blankets off him. "What's this really about?" she demanded, removing a pillow from hi face. Earl moved away, not wanting to look at her as tears fell down his cheeks. "You always mess up my stuff," he said, voice shaking.

"Baby come on," she sighed, caressing his face. Earl pulled away, not wanting to feel her hands on his skin. "No," he said. "No. Because you keep doing this."

"I'm sorry."

"If you were sorry you'd stop doing it. You'd fix the things you break." A dramatic sigh escaped his mom as she climbed into bed beside him, wrapping her arms around him. Again, he pulled away, huddling in a corner of the bed, very clearly uncomfortable. He wasn't used to her touching him. Wasn't used to anyone touching him, in fact. His father was more of a 'You can look but don't touch', in all aspects of life. The clocks. The writing utensils. Merchandise. Him. "What if I promise to come with you to the train station this fall? To make it up to you?" Earl's mom gave a raised eyebrow, as if that made her offer more appealing. And it kind of did...

[table][tr][td][quote][img]https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gi50W8BpbdQ/X2ZRnU1ZPsI/AAAAAAAAAO4/a6cXjqADeBAuPUNkIP_DnsbQOrYe4kPewCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/501f0db013587b341580695d092aa1a5.jpg[/img][/quote][/td][td]"You won't come. You never come."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"I cross my heart," she said firmly, doing the elegant movement with her long, delicate fingers. Earl nodded and got out of bed.
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He ended up in the kitchen, tying the apron on again. A persistent beeping was coming from the ovens direction letting him (and everyone else within the next five miles) that it was warm. He'd forgotten to turn it off, but it serves just as well. Preheating it again would have been an absolute pain.

"Is she bothering you?" his dad asked without looking up from his work. Earl's lips curved in a smile as he tried to stifle a giggle. Mr. Gray could act like he didn't care about anyone all he wanted, but at the end of the day, it always came back to this. "No," Earl replied, setting the cake batter in the oven. "She's my mom, she can't bother me."  A peeved sigh resounded from his father's corner, along with the clattering of tools. "Trust me, your mother has the ability to make ANYONE want to strangle her."

Which was the exact moment his mother chose to walk in the living room, and plop herself down in his father's lap. White hair fell onto the delicate machinery on Mr. Gray's desk, and quite a few clocks were sent tumbling down, off the edge, onto the hard floor. Earl winced at the sound of something shattering. "I'm taking him to the train," his mother said.

Earl was busy mixing the icing, but even the (somewhat aggressive) clatter of his spoon against the ceramic bowl couldn't block out his father's dry laughter as he physically picked Rory off his lap, and dumped her unceremoniously onto the couch. "If you take him to the train station, I'll eat my hat," he promised mockingly, before bending down to pick up the pieces of broken gears and switches. "You'll be eating your hat then!" Rory protested indignantly.

"Good!'

"Good!"

"Mom...?"

"Yes baby?"

"I will actually need more strawberries."

That is how it ended up with Rory walking out of the house and to the farmer's market, although Earl suspected it would be closed. Their TV, which his dad had turned on as soon as his former wife had left, was currently yapping about some storm or the other, Weatherman talking a mile a minute. "Do you think she'll-"

"She's a wizard, boy. She'll be fine."

"But don't you thin-"

"No I don't think. I think that icing is done. Can I try some?"

Earl tried VERY hard to hide his smile, and ended up failing miserably as he returned with a small teaspoon full of icing, having set the actual bowl on the counter, just in case his dad got any ideas. "Don't you trust me?" his father demanded, appalled. "Not even a little," Earl admitted with a grin. "When it comes to food, both of you two are...ahem, irresponsible."

Which was the point Mr. Gray went on a tangent about what an insolent child he was, disrespecting his elders like that, talking smack about them. This was all while he was licking the icing of the spoon. Earl didn't hug the man, although he wished he could, returning to the kitchen in the middle of his (somewhat deserved) lecture.

The next minutes wheezed by, with the oven producing several beautiful slabs of perfectly baked cake. Now came the fun part. It took Earl half an hour to ice the cake properly, going back to fix small imperfections again and again. His mother dropped in with the (kind of dubiously acquired) strawberries, setting them on the counter with a victorious whop.

As Earl put the finishing touches on, the icing covered strawberries, there was frantic applause from behind him. "You go kiddo!" his mother cheered. "Mooooom" Earl escaped the attention for a few seconds, going in his room to grab his phone. A pink cased thing with an anime wallpaper.
[table][tr][td]"It's a beautiful cake! When do we eat it??" His mom asked, obviously excited.

"We don't!"

"Oh...what were you planning to do with it?"

"Send it to a teacher."

"Uhm. You might wanna bake another cake in that case."

"What?? Why??"

"Your father and I already had a slice." [/td][td][quote][img]https://www.cookingclassy.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/fresh-strawberry-cake4-srgb..jpg[/img][/quote][/td][/tr][/table]

[quote][center]Word count: 1715[/center][/quote]


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