Page 14 of Enough
“Okay, Kale the snail,” she mocks.
“Marlow…” I roar.
“You’re an idiot,” Kale shouts as he pushes her shoulder.
“No, you are!” she says as she pushes back.
“Both of you, stop!” I yell loudly.
“All of you, just shut up! Now I have a headache. I’m going to take a shower and lie back down. I’m sick of all the yelling in this house!”
“But Dad…” Kale starts.
“Enough!” Mike responds. “And you keep your hands off your sister. If I see you push her again, I’m going to push you and see how you like it. You’re older and bigger than her. Boys don’t touch girls in this house.”
“You can say that again,” I respond under my breath. Mike glares at me before he stomps heavily up the stairs.
I shrug when I realize he heard me.
Kale stares at me expectantly. “It’s all her fault.”
“It’s not my fault, it’s yours!” she shouts.
“Shhh…” I whisper with my finger to my lips as I search my mind for some kind of distraction for them. “You know what I was thinking would be fun?”
“What?” Kale asks as he crosses his arms and frowns.
I notice how much he looks like his father in that moment and I do a double-take at him before I remember what I was going to say. “How about we have a bake-off.”
“What’s a bake-off?” Marlow asks.
“A bake-off is where you both come up with cookie recipes and we make them to see whose taste the best.”
“That’s not fair,” Kale states. “We know you can cook better than we can.”
“Oh, I’m not competing. I’m neutral. I’ll help both of you make them without giving away the other’s secrets. Then, when they’re finished, we’ll have a blind taste test and see whose cookies are better.”
“Can dad try them too?” Kale begs.
I sigh inside, hoping he’ll be game. “Of course!” I say with my biggest smile.
“And I can put anything I want in them?” Marlow asks.
“Yes you can.”
“Even pickles?” Kale questions.
I smile. “Umm… I suppose, although I’m not sure that’s a winning choice.”
Kale and Marlow laugh, and after they wash their hands, I announce the beginning of the first annual Haley cookie bake-off. After an hour of cracking eggs and mixing flour with sugar, the kids finally get the chance to mix in their secret ingredients. Kale goes for chocolate chips, mini marshmallows, and caramel sauce, while Marlow adds oatmeal, raisins, and white chips. We make a mess, but the kids have a blast, so I don’tcare about the clean-up. It’s nice to see them compete without fighting for once.
They both sit down in front of the oven and watch each other’s cookies baking. They try to guess each other’s ingredients, and Kale makes Marlow howl in laughter as he guesses the most disgusting ingredients he can think of. I grab my phone and snap a picture of them in front of the oven. It’s a moment I want to cherish forever.
A few minutes later, Mike saunters down the stairs. The kids leap up excitedly to tell him all about the bake-off. He listens and smirks as Kale tells him what he thinks Marlow put in her cookies. They beg him to taste them and thankfully, Mike agrees. He even sits with them in front of the oven to watch them bake. Marlow plants herself on his lap, and the kids seem thrilled to have their dad involved.
I try my best to be happy Mike is actually doing something with them, but for some reason his presence puts a damper on my enthusiasm. I feel bad for it, but after all the time he spends away, I’ve adjusted to my time with the kids to the point where I rarely, if ever, miss him at all. I know in my heart it’s wrong to feel that way, and I mentally berate myself for being so selfish and ungrateful.
The beep of the timer tells me the cookies are done.
