Hello f-list! How's your weekend running?
Mine is very quiet and just beautiful. I made these little cakes today (because I couldn't find the picture I was looking for). They taste great!
Enjoy this weekend and spring as much as I do.
Love and hugs,
Title: Changes - Chapter 7: Strawberry kisses
This is for my dear honeyandvinegar just because ...
He’s already there. Breath in once, twice… So here we go opening the front door. “Case?!”
“I’m here, in the kitchen!”
There he is with a paper bag bigger than himself. “What’s that?”
“I was at the mall, shopping. “
“I was at the supermarket, too… shopping…”
“Cool. Look what I’ve got – the candles. I’m sure you forgot them because I remember we didn’t add them to the shopping list we made last evening…”
This makes me giggle “you know me very well, Casey…”
“I wish I would…”
Hm? What? “Casey? Why did you say this?”
“Why did I say what?”
“Don’t play around here. I heard it loud and clear as I heard your words at school.
Don’t tease me!”
He turns around and slowly walks to me giving me this star glance look that makes me hold my breath. God, is he beautiful! Did I think this?
“It’s no tease, Zeke. I really want to get to know you better. “
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“God, Zeke. We are both the biggest cowards on earth. I don’t say what I want to say and you are doing just the same.”
“Ok; seriously. Why do you want to know me better, though I think you know me very well…”
He breathes in deeply, turns around, looking out of the window, whispering merely to hear “because I like you so much…”
This makes me swallow hard … “Casey…” I turn around, too – standing behind him, breathing in the scent of his hair … strawberries… “Casey, I like you too. A lot.”
Another time I don’t know what to do. He’s reaching for my hands, caressing them tenderly. All of a sudden he turns around and hugs me. Tight. Very tight. Taken by surprise I hug him back awkwardly. What is wrong with me?
“Zeke… we should start with the cake, don’t you think?”
It’s hard to let loose … then our eyes lock and the world turns down. I love him, I love him, I love him… He likes me, he likes me, he likes me. Good gracious me.. I.AM.DEAD! This must be heaven!
My head is spinning, I feel dizzy and I start laughing. “Zeke! Really, we should start with the cake!”
He’s right. Yes! Yes, baby! We’ll make the world’s greatest strawberry kisses EVER!
“First we have to cut the berries and sweeten them…” so the book says.
“K., I’ll do this. You can kneed the dough. “
“Yes. Can’t be that difficult.”
But it is like it is - . I thought it was easy- peasy. But aren’t things usually far from easy-peasy when you think they are? Sweeten them. “How much sugar, Casey?”
He looks into the book “they say, add “some”…”
Some. This could be everything. “Do you think a cup is enough?”
Again this irresistible giggle… “How should I know. Give it a try…”
“K., I’ll add 2 cups of sugar to the strawberries. This must be sweet enough…
How about the dough.”
“Look at this shit! It’s like glue! Maybe I should add more flour. Can you help me? “
“Until I can move my fingers again… 2 cups maybe…”
“What does the recipe say, let me see… hmmm… “
That's when the misery starts.... a phonecall interrupts us… “Casey! It’s your mom! Come over here, I’ll take the phone…”
Covered in flour, smelling like vanilla he slowly walks over, the bowl still in his hands… “Mom? What if the dough is too … sticky? Hmm… ok, Zeke did this. So adding flour was correct. Good. What do you want? No, no… all runs well. I’ll call you if we’re drowning in a catastrophe, k. Bye then…”
I’m done so I’m flouring the cake pan and Casey puts the dough in it – “I don’t know why, Casey … but you can call me Napoleon if this turns out to be right – looks more like chewing gum now”
“but not sticky anmore…Let me taste it…”
Oh, this doesn’t look good. “Casey?”
“I don’t know… I’ll think about calling you Napoleon. Anyway, I’ll give it a try.
Hmmm… We’re looking at the book together, his hand on my shoulder feels good. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it, I can feel it in my throat. He reads “ Bake for 18-20 minutes or until well-risen and golden. Cool on a wire rack.”
So there’s a little time for him.
“So what’s next, Casey?”
“Whip the cream, mix it with vanilla sugar… take one half and mix it with half of the berries.”
“And I thought mix butter, eggs, flour, put it in the oven and out comes a cake.”
He giggles again … “the cream, I will do this in a dash” and he starts mixing until … the cream curdles. I didn’t know the unholy words he’s using (it shouldn’t be the last time by the way) … By the third time he is cursing so loud I’m sure Aaron can here him.
I’ll do the strawberry mirror … mixing some strawberry syrup with gelatine that shouldn’t be a problem. NO BIG DEAL. But I don’t know if it is syrupy enough… I pour it over a few strawberries as a test and they look good. Putting them into the fridge I feel like a strawberry super dad.
“Are you done, Casey?”
Ok, I’ll get us a cake plate . I’m only 3 steps away when I hear this piercing “ZEEEEEKE!!!” He made me jump almost out of my skin.
Jesus, what happened? Did he cut is hand off? I’m running back into the kitchen. He’s standing on the counter with the strawberry bowl and whispers “Look at it!”
There they are – tiny little red spots former strawberries swimming in a … soup.
“Zeke, what’s this?”
“How should I know… it’s a miracle … almost all strawberries are gone…”
We’re staring at the strawberries like it would be a Ginny und we were waiting he would jump at us.
“Mom. Call your mom, Case. Good mothers use to know what to do!”
Grabbing a plastic bag I just want to chuck that “soup” into the garbage can but the bowl goes down the floor. It looks like a massaker has happened. The wooden floor is ruined, on our shirts are spots of juice. Hard work for the washer.
“Marmelade… Mom says we still can …”
“We can’t, Casey…” I’m growling, kneeling on the floor, mopping this sugarthing off.
“Oh… but, hey. There are enough strawberries for the next sweetening. Mom said two tablespoons are enough and we should handle them carefully…”
Taking all my courage here we go again. “Shouldn’t your cakes be ready?” He hurries to the oven “Oh, they look great, Zeke. Though a bit small..”
To be true they look at bit deflated, so small … “obviously for dwarfs” he murmurs…
“They say put the cakes on a cake plate and cool them for 30 minutes, then decorate them with strawberry cream, whipped cream and strawberries on top…”
Strawberry cream? Why did I chuck the small sweetened fruits into the bin? Maybe they could have been useful…
The doorbell rings! “Zeke? Do you expect someone?”
“Nope… Look at the door, please. I’m still not done with the cutting…”
Mrs. C! “Mom! What are you doing here? No, we’ll do this alone. No, Zeke will give me a ride back home. We are NOT done yet!”
Mrs. C walks into the kitchen all smiles “Hi, Zeke. How’s it going?”
“Fine. Thanks, Mrs. C…”
Casey doesn’t feel well and he can’t get his mom out of the house quick enough.
I guess that’s what mothers do when their chickens are out at night. It’s almost 9 p.m. and we’re not finished. Jesus Christ.
“We should take a break, Zeke. Let’s got outside for a minute. It’s very hot here…”
Speaking of hotness… Oh yeah.
Standing on the porch we enjoy the coolness. “Did you expect it to be like this, Zeke?”
Not at all. “guess so…” “Really?” When he smiles, his whole face brightens – when his temper flared like half an hour before, those eyes shoot sparks.
“There’s strawberry juice on your lips…
We’re staring at each other, you know and I know what comes next. You put your arms around my waist and give me a little kiss . Thunderstruck I can’t move. You kiss me again and again …until all juice is gone. “Don’t let me feel like an idiot, Zeke… Would you please kiss me back?”
And this I do. It feels … incredible… I just… feel. His hands touch my cheeks and he looks at me seriously… whispering…
“When you said you like me …”
“I meant it, Casey… Doubts? Understandable…”
“No doubts. It’s just … you are THE Zeke…and I’m just Casey…
I’m gathering all the courage I have to seal it with a kiss. A strawberry kiss.
“Let get the cake finished, Casey… “
Arm in arm we’re walking through the door and soon the cakes are ready.
They look indeed kissable … like he does.
We’re driving in silence, it’s all to fresh and new … talking would ruin this fragile feelings.
“See you tomorrow, Casey?”
He only nods, “Yes, Zeke. Yes. Good night…”
“See you, Zeke…”
And the door closes…
This night I’m able to sleep … my last thought is about these cakes. I’m dreaming of vanilla, a pink ocean in my fridge, Casey and strawberry kisses..