How I Knew

chapter five - lennon

It's been hard being able to focus at the bakery. I find myself forgetting ingredients, adding the wrong ones, or burning pastries. I haven't messed up a recipe since my first year of working for Jane. It's frustrating because I know why I am messing up but there is also no immediate way of relieving the frustration with answers.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm meant to be alone. It seems like an extreme thought for a situation like this, but I feel like for years I've been digging and digging trying to find an exit, and the moment I think I'm seeing a ray of light come through, I'm pulled further in. Why would I match with someone that has no—and probably won't ever have any—idea of my existence?

As a hopeless romantic, I have longed for someone to love me—not because I'm their friend or family—but because they genuinely wanted to get to know me at a level no one else ever has. I want to know what it is like to have my heart skip a beat from a simple look, feel the anticipation of waiting for a call or text, the natural gravitation toward that person in a room full of people.

I want the intimacy of simple acts: holding hands, short discreet touches, hello and goodbye kisses.

I want to be the person he has waited for, not the person he waits with.

The one he wished for, the same way I wished for him.

Ridiculous. Sad. Pathetic. That's what I sound like, but I'd be lying if I said I felt differently.

I'm preparing the filling for a custom cake order when my cellphone rings. I'm expecting it to be Claudia. I haven't seen her or spoken much to her since the weekend when my eyes changed. It's nearly the end of the week so I know she's calling to harass me into going out for drinks.

I am not particularly in the mood to spend money or be around drunk strangers. I'll try to barter for a wine night in at her place, promising to bring her favorite dessert.

However, when I pick up my phone, the screen doesn't display Claudia's name.

Calling: Unknown Caller

I frown before tentatively picking up, "Hello?"

"Lennon Mills?" The unknown caller answers back.

The voice has a slight accent I can't place. It has a soft, feminine yet confident tone. They have only said my name, but as someone who is used to calls and profiling clients on the phone for fun, I can make several conclusions or assumptions about someone with very little said.

One thing I'm sure of is this person isn't a client. Orders are placed through our landline. Given our small town, everyone knows to call the bakery. Moreover, my personal cellphone number is not affiliated with the store at all.

I struggle to recognize the voice and the fact that they know my name makes me anxious. "Yes." I reply, "I-I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Oh, great!" She chirps, almost relieved. "Hi, I'm Alix. You matched with my brother. Axel." She casually introduces herself.

My heart races as the identity of the voice settles in.

Alexandra. I remember her face from my deep dive search the other night and I'm suddenly intimidated.

"H-hi," I stutter, unsure of how to handle this conversation.

"I didn't mean to surprise you. Axel is busy with a commitment and hasn't had the chance to personally reach out so I figured I'd help with introductions." Alix says, "Between you and me, he's not the best at time management. I always tell him it'll be his downfall. Or at least one of them. But I digress."

Her friendliness blindsides me. Our conversation is casual and pleasant. It's an unexpected feeling, considering our lack of knowing one another and her title. I never thought of her family as snobby or impolite, more so proper and serious. Her personality makes her seem so...ordinary as if we went to pre-school together and are suddenly connecting years later.