Crazy (BoyxBoy)

Creating Memories

Creating things is really hard. You really have to concentrate and expell all outer forces. You have to really dig deep.

When Frieda and I were in the kitchen together, it felt natural to create. All I needed was my flavor pallet and her magical ingredients. I liked pasta a lot growing up; spaghetti, mostly. It was one of my dad's best dishes and I had always watched him cook it. He used pasta noodles from a box and didn't hand make them like Frieda taught me, but it didn't matter to me. He made it with love and always tried to get Mom to do the spaghetti kiss thing from Lady and The Tramp.

I got a lot of my love for the kitchen from my parents. Whether it was cleaning or cooking or even just simply making coffee in the morning, the kitchen was always a good place for us. Dad liked to sing while making pancakes and he'd spin my little sister around on his feet as he and mom danced to some lame song on the radio that reminded them of their youth.

I would always sit back and observe. I never joined in on the fun. It felt good there, observing and not participating. That was my place at home, on the outside looking in. It didn't sting like rejection or burn like loneliness. It just felt natural. It gave my mind space to breath and it gave me time to think.

About anything. About everything. About creating dishes that took me back to those good times spent in the kitchen just before dinner, before I hopped down from the counter top where I sat perched, doing my homework, and set the table.

"What are you thinking about?" Mom came to sit beside me on the window seat, handing me a cup of hot cocoa. I took it, gratefully, book discarded next to me.

"Cooking and how relaxing it is." She smiled and reached over to tuck my hair back behind my ear. "You need a hair cut, sweetie." She was always focused on small details. That's why I loved her. Not too many people noticed the small things.

"How's Vaughn? Are you two good?" I tried to keep the smile off my face but it was too late.

The last few weeks had been interesting. It felt good to have something else to look forward to besides work. Vaughn was busy with paperwork and the store. He was on salary but often times had to work overtime with no additional pay. He kept saying he felt bad because we hadn't even been on a date yet.

He was sweet and kind and patient with me. He kissed me a lot, held my hand whenever he could. It was nice talking to him for hours on the phone. He told me about his dad and how they've never been close because he was always too academic and his dad was too athletic. He told me about how he misses his mom, but is too scared to reach out after not seeing her for so long. He was afraid she'd be ill or on her deathbed.

I told him about my illness and parents and how lucky I got with them. I don't think people understood what a blessing it was to have two amazing people love you so much. And now it seemed like perhaps there would be three.

"Yes. We are. He's at work right now, he's too busy to text. I miss him."

She sipped her own drink and sighed happily. "I'm happy for you. I knew you could do it." I chuckled. "It's still new, mom. You have to give it time."

"And you have to give it a chance, Cammy. You deserve an easy relationship. If everything else is hard, please let this be easy." I smiled at her. Her phone buzzed in her hand then. She looked down at it and looked back up disappointed.

"What wrong?" I asked her. She shook her head. "Nothing you need to worry about, baby." I frowned. "I'm not a baby. Is it dad? Are you guys fighting, still?"

"Cam, it's nothing to worry about."

"How many times are you going to tell yourself that before you realize it's not true?"