Isabel & Leo - Short Stories

Burnt Pancakes

It's my birthday, and Leo and the kids said they would make me breakfast. I try to stay calm when I hear pots banging, water splashing and glassware clinking in the kitchen sink. I close my eyes and sigh. They're making me breakfast, I think over and over until I fall back into a half-asleep state.

The sound of tiny feet pounding up the stairs wakes me. Jay pops his head into my bedroom. "It's ready, Mommy! Breakfast is ready!"

I head downstairs to my birthday breakfast only to find the aftermath of a small yet sizable tornado in my kitchen. My mouth drops open. "What the—"

"I know it's a mess," Leo says with his arms spread wide in surrender. "Don't worry about that. We'll clean up. I promise. First, we burnt the pancakes; then the second batch had too much oil, and they tasted pretty bad, but this third batch is good."

"Real good, Mommy," Jay says with wide, hopeful eyes, bouncing on his toes like a puppy waiting for me to throw a ball. "I already ate two."

"I ate two too, and they were bigger than yours," Lia says. Jay, turns around and says, "No way!" and soon they're in an I-can-eat-more-pancakes-than-you-can screaming match.

"Alright," Leo shouts at the kids, "you both win. Sit down. Now."

Obediently, and silently, Lia and Jay take their seats.

"Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure," I say, noticing a hint of exasperation in his tone. I study the kids sitting at the table, with their hands at their sides and their lips pouting. Leo hands me a cup of coffee with milk and sugar, just how I like it, and the kids watch closely as I join them at the table. A drop of water falls from the faucet and into a bowl in the sink—its plunk echoes in the kitchen.

"What happened? Why is everyone so quiet?"

Lia's eyes dart to her father, then back to me. She raises and drops her shoulders.

"Nothing happened," Leo says. He places a tray of at least twelve pancakes at the center of the kitchen table.

"I heard a lot of noise coming from down here. Did something break? Were you guys arguing about something?"

"I told you she could hear you!" Lia says to her father. "Daddy was whisper-shouting because he didn't want you to hear him scream at us."

"Lia," Leo says, "we aren't going to ruin Mommy's day, remember?"

With a huff, Lia crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.

"Leo, why are you so tense?"

The chair screeches when he pulls it back from the table and sits down hard. Leo's hands slice through the air in front of him as he speaks in a frustrated tone. "I was trying to make you a nice breakfast for your birthday, but the kids wanted to play Xbox, and I needed Lia to help because my glasses broke, and I couldn't read the instructions, and she was giving me such a hard time that she read the instructions wrong, and we burned the first batch. Then—"

"If you couldn't read, you shouldn't have made pancakes," Lia says, crossing her arms tighter. Jay looks at the three of us with a blend of curiosity and fear in his eyes. He says nothing.

"I was trying to make a nice breakfast for your mother." The volume of Leo's voice increases slightly. "If you didn't have such a poor attitude about it, we wouldn't have burned the first batch and then put too much oil in the second."

"How was I supposed to know the difference between the abbreviation for teaspoons and tablespoons? And you didn't even use a spoon. You just threw the oil in there."

"I estimated!"

"Okay. Enough!" I say, loud enough to cut through the tumult. Jay raises his hand sheepishly. "What is it, Jay?

"It's all my fault." He stares at his hands folded in his lap.

"What's all your fault?"

Jay sucks in a long breath. "I beat Lia at Super Smash Bros, and she wanted to keep playing until she beat me, but I kept beating her, and I was making fun of her for losing, and she kept getting madder, and that's when Daddy asked her to help him make pancakes. But Lia was already mad at me, because I'm better than her at Super Smash Bros, and she wanted to keep playing until she beat me, but then she couldn't because she had to help Daddy make pancakes." He lowers his eyes for a second, looks around the table, and then stares down at his hands once more.

Lia and Leo both press their lips together to repress smiles.

"Jay, Honey, this isn't your fault. Lia and Daddy are just being crazy, that's all." I gesture to Lia and Leo to agree with me.

"Yeah, Buddy," Leo says, rubbing Jay's shoulder. "It's not your fault your sister was behaving badly."

"Yeah, Jay," Lia says, standing to give her little brother a hug. "It's not your fault Daddy is blind without his glasses."

After a few seconds, we finally serve ourselves pancakes along with eggs and sausages. I take a bite of the pancake and chew through the rubbery texture, holding in a gag, trying hard not to make a face at the intense, overpowering buttery flavor.

"They're good, right Mommy?" Jay says, chewing his piece with delight. Lia eats hers without protest.

"Mm hmm," I say, still on my first bite. I drown my second piece in maple syrup.

Leo almost chokes on his pancake and swallows a tall glass of water so fast you'd think he'd just ran a marathon. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Jay asks.

"Nothing," I say, widening my eyes at Leo.

"Mommy and Daddy don't like the pancakes, Jay." Lia bites into her sausage.

"Why? They're so good."

"When you get older, things happen to your body." Lia takes another bite of the pancake as she educates her little brother. "Your tongue gets all weird, and good food doesn't taste good anymore."

"Really?"

I drown my single pancake in more syrup as Leo serves himself more coffee, both of us amused spectators of Lia's dissertation.

"Yeah. And you know what else? That's why Daddy can't see without his glasses. Something happens to your eyes when you get older, and you can't see clearly anymore. Our eyes work because we are young. We can taste good food because our tongues still work."

"Oh," Jay says around a mouthful of pancake. "Does something happen to their voices?"

Lia shrugs. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"Because their voices sound a lot louder than ours, and a lot angrier."

A stream of coffee flows down Leo's chin as he nearly spits it out. He wipes it dry. "Not my voice, just Mommy's voice, right Buddy?"

"Hey!" I say as I place my cup down.

"I'm just saying . . . that . . . sometimes . . . you shout more than necessary."

"Listen to your son. He said 'their voices' not Mommy's voice or girls' voices or anything to indicate he is only talking about me."

"Yeah, but he meant only you because I don't scream that much."

"You were screaming a lot before I came downstairs."

"I wasn't screaming. I was whispering, loudly."

Lia snorts, but then she clears her throat. She lowers her eyes to her food.

"Oh please. He's talking about both our voices." I turn to Jay. "Right, Honey?"

Jay looks up at me and blinks. He turns to Leo and blinks twice. He glances at Lia with eyes that beg for help. "What do I do?" he whispers to Lia.

"Don't. Say. Anything." Lia whispers back.

Leo and I nearly choke on our poorly-restrained smiles.

Lia leans in towards Jay once more. "And smile."