How I Knew

chapter three - lennon

The bakery usually is a successful emotional outlet for me. I can let out all of my frustrations by hitting the cold butter with a rolling pin to soften it for croissants, concentrating on the delicate details of a pastry, or cutting fruit for the cake cups or homemade jam. When I got back from apartment hunting with Claudia, I thought getting ahead of tomorrow's business would provide a good distraction from the nerve-wracking reality I am trying to run from. Instead, I was left more mentally spent than I already was.

As much as I wanted to avoid it, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

After preparing the dough for our sourdough bread and having a small mental breakdown, I decide to call it a night. I can no longer focus on pastries and bread and continuing to force myself to work is a recipe for disaster (pun intended). I clean off my workspace, taking all the dirty bowls to the sink and cleaning the table with a damp rag to get rid of all the flour. Jane ingrained the routine in my head since I began working for her in high school. She told me it would not only drag bugs and rodents in but also bad luck. Apparently, starting the day having to clean last night's mess doesn't make for a great day.

I close the door behind me, I head upstairs. Once inside, I remove my shoes and set them next to the door.

Although small, the L-shaped studio apartment works well enough for me. As soon as you walk in, the kitchenette is to the left. It has a small electric countertop stove with my kettle plugged next to the sink. The majority of the storage is in the top cabinets. Under it, there's storage for the two pans and one pot I own. On the right corner is the small fridge. Jane was worried it wouldn't be enough for me, but I usually eat leftovers from the bakery so there aren't any groceries I have to refrigerate. Right ahead of the front door is my bed, a nightstand creating space between it and the kitchen.

The bed is an XL twin-size wooden frame donated by Jane's granddaughter. The wall next to it has a collection of three windows that bring natural light in during the morning. The bathroom is tucked into the left corner of the wall, beside my dresser, and directly in front of my bed.

For some it might not be ideal, but I like the privacy and independence of having my own space. I helped paint the walls white and give them my personal touch with plants and frames so it slowly began to feel like home.

I take a quick shower before taking my laptop from the nightstand and sitting on my bed, crossing my legs to prop the device.

I have high hopes of finding something even though I am not exactly sure how to begin my search.

Maybe if I describe it, Google can put the pieces together for me?

Mom always told me, "Never look for answers you're not ready to find." The blinking cursor taunts me, pushing me to press at least one key. I would like to think that the distraction that has been plaguing me all day is a sign that I am ready for answers or whatever details I can find on him.

There is also the fact that I can't avoid it forever. I take one last deep breath and go to Google's home page.

Coat of arms with lion, I type.

The page reloads with results: Canada, Belgium, Spain, the Netherlands.

Ok, countries. Not helpful.

I bite my lip, trying to think of a better way to phrase it.

Family crest with lion.

The results are more disheartening. All I see are "How to Build Your Own Family Crest" articles. Link after link after link. I even get an example with the Batman logo in the middle and quotes all throughout: "we love each other," "always be nice!" and my personal favorite "always learning!"