Page 53 of Semi Sweet
That thought made me feel hopeful. Somewhere out there was someone who would love my stories and want to make me a success. I shared the handful I found promising before Tasha shared her own list. She talked about one where high school students were being used as hosts for government bioweapons that I would have bought immediately. Tasha hadn’t read the sample chapters yet.
“Okay, we narrowed the list down. We’ll read the attachments after lunch and submit the best ones to Chloe in the afternoon.” Tasha got up and led me towards the kitchen where several other people were getting ready to eat.
I clutched my brown bag tightly–in all the excitement of the first day of my internship, I’d forgotten about it. I sat down and took out a container of shrimp tempura and rice, a nice chopped salad, and a little white box similar to the type I’d looked forward to in my Cash Value Market days. When I opened it, I was greeted by the sight of a chocolate cupcake with orange frosting and a small wedge of the candied fruit placed on top.
“Wow, did you make that?” Tasha asked as she pulled out an apple and a sandwich.
My face felt warm as I stared at the lot. “My roommate did, actually.”
“Holy crap, are they a chef or something?”
“He’s a pastry chef, specifically.” The shrimp tempura had been our dinner the night before. Sean was still trying to prove he was Japanese. The cupcake had been one of the flavors he’d been planning on trying when he was still sending them anonymously, but I wasn’t close enough to Tasha to share all of that.
“I’m sorry, a man did all that? If you’re not taking advantage of all he has to offer, can you send him my way, please?” Tasha motioned to her subpar lunch before she burst out laughing and I politely said I'd see what I could do.
When I saw she was absorbed in her phone, I placed my brown bag in such a way that provided a bit of privacy. I’d seen a slip of paper in the cupcake box the minute I’d opened it up.
I thought I was done with poems;
Guess I was wrong.
Hope your first day was great
But not too long.
See you at home.
I had no doubt Sean would make Tasha swoon, which is why under no circumstances would I tell him about her. Was that wrong?
***
I rode the train back towards Sean’s apartment, though seeing as how I’d referred to him as my roommate earlier, I wondered if it was appropriate to call it my apartment as well. I was thinking about how exciting my day had been and I felt like I could do anything. When I heard the announcement that the station closest to my childhood home was next, I actually considered collecting my things and stopping there. Did I have the nerve to confront my father after so many years? Could I do it without Sean? I contemplated just going to the edge of my street, maybe trying to catch a glimpse of my old townhouse until I could get more courage to move closer. Eventually I’d work up the nerve to go further–maybe I’d luck out and I’d bump into one of my sisters or my mother.
“Now arriving at Federal Street. Now arriving at Federal Street.”
I couldn’t move. I’d heard that announcement for years. It was the stop I got off to go to the store when I’d started living with Evan. I realized that my hesitation wasn’t necessarily about seeing my father, but more so about running into Evan. It was irrational and stupid. He never took the train, but there was that small miniscule chance that he might see me as he was getting chauffeured around. I’d been so careful to hide where I went, almost like I’d turned into a ghost. I didn't want to wreck it by trying something I probably didn’t have the nerve to follow through with.
The doors opened and people got on and off, but I stayed rooted to my spot. I’d joked about needing a therapist, but I was starting to believe I really did as the train continued towards the stop for Sean’s complex. At least I knew Evan wouldn’t come to this part of Denver. I collected my things and got off the train.
“Hey!” I called as I let myself in. The smell of baked goods wafted through the apartment as I locked the door behind me.
“Let’s hear it, Miss Intern,” Sean replied from the kitchen.
When I joined him, I was shocked to see dozens of fancy sandwich cookies in many colors on plates and a sink filled with dishes.
“It was awesome. I got to recommend some manuscript samples to an editor. I also got to weed out some that made me feel much better about my writing.” I made sure to omit the part of the day where my coworker had wanted Sean’s contact information, not that I thought he would act on it. I looked at the scene in the kitchen. “Did you bake on a day you had off?”
Sean nodded. “I like to try things I can’t do at the store.” He grabbed his phone from a nearby counter. “I remember why I haven’t made French macarons since college.”
“Why’s that?”
“They’re a pain in the ass.” He placed the phone in front of me to show me a picture. “I had wanted to make these for you, but the first batch of feet weren’t cooperating.”
I gasped when I saw the photo of the fancy cookie shaped like a cat from the anime I’d been watching. “YOU ARE NOT A REAL PERSON,” I exclaimed.
“Not true!” he countered. “I would have had these baked to perfection and decorated before you got home if I was as great as you say.”
I rolled my eyes and hip checked him out of the way so I could sample one. If it was less than perfect, I couldn’t tell. “I’m going to gain a hundred pounds living with you.”
