Page 53 of Tommy

“Yes, they’ve been in that box for a long time, they’re probably covered in dust,” I said. “Give them a wash.” I was going to mentally plan out the most efficient way of cutting them up with all his cutters. From what I’d seen, there was a tree, a snowman, a candy cane, and a gingerbread man. But there were more, some of them with more intricate cuts like the reindeer and snowflake. They could both go horribly wrong with how finnicky the shapes of those were.

Once he was done, we cut them out and placed them on a baking sheet. Some of them weren’t used in the end. He wanted doubles of some, like the reindeer and the snowman.

“You know, because they need a friend,” his reasoning behind it. “And the gingerbread man too, well, person, because you don’t know.”

“I guess they need a friend as well.”

“A gingerbread them,” he said.

I understood the reference to non-binary but being this far detached from society, I hadn’t met anyone who identified with it. In fact, I was mostly educated by the term fromreading Tommy’s book. He had plenty of non-binary teddy bear characters.

“Ok, now, once I put these in the oven, no opening,” I told him. “It’s a precise science.”

He didn’t seem too bothered about that, more excited about being able to go change into a onesie and eat the cookie batter from the bowl, just like I used to as a kid. And since I was in the kitchen, I went through some of my grandma’s recipes to see her quiche recipe. I missed that a lot, and I was already in the mood to make food.

Tommy was full of questions when he came back to see me mixing ingredients together in another bowl. “More cookies?”

“Short crust pastry for a quiche,” I told him.

“Oh I didn’t know you knew how to make that.”

“I know a lot more than you might think, kid.”

He took the other bowl from the counter. “Well, I’ll take this before you wash it away.”

“As long as the dogs don’t get into it,” I said.

“I promise they won’t.” Although the moment they saw Tommy going into the lounge, they hounded him to know what was in the bowl.

Cookies didn’t take too long to bake, they were ready just in time for me to put the quiche in, it was inside of a large round ceramic dish with a fork pruned edge to give it some detail.

I wished I could’ve bottled up the glee in Tommy’s eyes when he saw the cookies had retained their shape. It was a surprise to me as well, but only because I’d never used the reindeer before.

“You know who would love these,” he said.

“You?” I asked.

“No, Santa Daddy,” he said. “We’ll have to make some more and leave them out for him on Christmas Eve.”

“We will,” I said. “What about snow Daddy outside?”

“Maybe not him. I don’t think he could stomach them,” he said.

“Noted.” I nodded. “What about me?”

“I think these might be too sweet for you,” he said, closing his eyes and inhaling the sweet cookie smell. “In fact, I think the only person, other than Santa Daddy who could eat them would be me.”

“Damn, well, then I guess if you think that’s the case, I should just hand them all over to you right now.”

He licked his lips. “If you—”

“I was kidding. Don’t you dare,” I chuckled. “You’ve got to wait for them to cool. Then we can eat them, with some milk. Don’t worry, I know exactly what pairs well with a good chocolate chip cookie.”

Tommy continued to moan about smack his lips. He’d really found his voice and positivity from this morning. “How long do I have to wait?”

“Ten minutes,” I said. “But you gotta save room for lunch. That’s in the oven now.”

Moments like this were like pictures on a postcard, a sweet moment I wanted to be framed and kept forever. I wanted it documented, the first time we made cookies together. I blinked with intention, almost like they were capturing the moment of him wafting a hand over the cookies to get more of the smell in his nose.

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