Ellie Hoover

It had been a week since Harry and I had gone to Liverpool. I hadn’t seen the popstar in Holmes Chapel since; however, thanks to social media, I did know he was in Los Angeles with his girlfriend. I wasn’t sure if I should be mad that he left me without saying anything to me, but I was mad. Was I jealous? I shouldn’t have been. I was mad though at the fact he had left me to fend for myself in the small town. I didn’t do much or get out much within that week. I mainly kept myself contained within the walls owned by my grandparents. I refused to work at the bakery with nan, only to avoid contact with others in this town. There wasn’t much for me to do in the house. I was worried, like usual, about the business which was basically all in another’s hands while I was away. I couldn’t wait for Christmas to come, not because of joy, family, and presents, but because that meant I could leave soon after and nan and pa would be satisfied with my stay.

Christmas was in four days and I was curious to see what my first Christmas in England would be like. Another first. Damn Harry. I wasn’t sure what caused Harry to become so distant at the pub in Liverpool, but we barely talked on the way back to Holmes Chapel. He never tried to contact me since; he couldn’t have, considering we never traded numbers or anything. I wasn’t sure if I had said something wrong or if he realized I wasn’t worthy enough to be a friend. Maybe, I thought, he was done for the day with a charity case-a girl with no memory of her childhood. It was all just a favor for his mom and nan.

My head always got me in trouble. I was sure I was going stir crazy. I needed to do something. I needed to preoccupy myself so I wouldn’t cause more trouble for myself with the thoughts floating around.

I decided to do the one thing I have seen people in stress always do. I decided to bake. Nan and Kelsey always baked, so what was stopping me, other than the fact that I had no talents in the kitchen?

I slid into my moccasins and paced down the stairs still styled in my pajamas, a dark blue oversized t-shirt that ended mid-thigh. I had stayed in bed that day, something I normally never do. Another first. Damn Harry.

I started rummaging through the cabinets in hopes of finding a recipe book or notebook from my grandmother. I found one in the corner and it was, of course, too high for me to reach. I safely climbed up the stepstool I found behind the kitchen door and took hold of the red journal I assumed was a book written by Beth, the favorite baker of the town. I turned the pages, which were stained a soft yellow due to the age book. I predicted the book was a favorite of my grandmothers as the pages were worn and even some torn. I had no idea what to bake; I used my thumb to stroke over the sides of the pages before randomly stopping on a recipe. Chocolate Chesnutt Roulade, it read in black ink, presumably written by my grandmother.

I started to go by the directions. I could use directions and stick to them, but something always happened and my food would never turn out how it was supposed to.

After placing the Roulade in the oven, I felt at even more stressed than I had been before I started. I strolled around the house, unable to keep still. Usually I was calm and organized, but I was starting to turn more and more into Kelsey. Anxiety had slowly built up within me that past week without Harry to be there to calm me down, to tell me I wasn’t crazy, to keep me sane in England. I had become so comfortable with Harry when I had only known him for a short amount of time. I thought about him way more than needed. I thought about him more than Ben, the man who hadn’t called me since the night we went out three weeks ago.
I ran my fingers through my hair, my tips of my five fingers grazing past my scalp. I walked into the living room and looked for something to do. I finally spotted a set of books that were covered in cloth padding and figured they were photo books or scrapbooks. I opened a pink one up to find a young girl with dark hair between two successful parents. I continues to flip through the book until there were no more pictures to dwell on. Those pictures were of me. My childhood captured through square pieces of glossed off paper, taped on old pages and only to be looked at by me with wonder of what it was all like. I moved on to the next book. I found a young boy beside me in numerous pictures with the same captivating green eyes and curly mess sitting on top of his head. My best friend. Before I was able to indulge in another book of memories I hadn’t possessed, the beeper sounded in the kitchen, signifying a cake was ready to be taken out of the oven.

I skipped to the kitchen and opened the oven door, hot steam rushed to my face, causing sweat to leak through the pores of my face. Without thinking, I rested my hand on the side of the dish to pull out the roulade. Pain and numbess surged through the palm of my hand and I quickly dropped the dish, causing millions of glass pieces to fly everywhere on the tile floor.

“Shit!” I screamed, holding my right hand in pain while I stepped over the ruined dessert now on the floor.

“That’s no way a lady should talk, especially in front of a guest,” a deep accented voice said from behind me.

I turned around to Harry and a petite blonde both standing behind the kitchen island by the kitchen door. The blonde stood close to Harry's side. I noticed her features, but I wasn’t sure how.

“God, Harry. What in the hell are you doing here?” I asked with urge. I needed to get my hand under the some water.

“Good afternoon to you too,” he smiled. “This is Hallie,” he gestured to the beauty beside him. “Hallie this is Ellie. Hallie’s my girlfriend and I decided to bring her home for Christmas.”

Notes

Goodnight
xo