Stitches | Nathan Prescott

12 | Honey, you're so sweet

Good morning sunshine...

          The following morning was a nightmare; I woke up in cold sweat along with this feeling of utter disgust. I was not able to sleep properly with Nathan tossing and turning in his sleep. I remember him mumbling phrases that did not sound pleasing to the ears, much like nails on a chalkboard, but Kevin and Genevieve were not phased by the shrieks. Damn those lucky heavy sleepers. I tried my best to sit up in my groggy state and unzipped the tent window. The sun was up and smiling too brightly for my taste. My eyes squinted at the bright sun rays and I stared at the scenery. The green grass and the white board house was a nice picture for my own two eyes to witness. The calm atmosphere was ruined by a sleepy Nathan sleep-slapping my back. He was groaning unpleasantly and repeated his back slapping.

          "Too....dammmmm......early...." Was all I got before he turned the other way with the comforter and rolled himself into a cocoon. The sight was too cute to pass up, so I grabbed my analog and quickly snapped a pic of the sleeping Nathan. I laughed at the developed film and tucked it into my camera bag. I stretched my arms on the makeshift bed and turned my body to the edge where the cold tent floor met my feet. Much like a blood hound my feet lazily searched for my slip-ons. They bumped into other items in the tent and soon found the plain black footwear. I put them on and quietly unzipped the tent door open, made sure to close it once I was out and then headed to the house.

         Once inside I searched the kitchen for anything to eat or at least some ingredients to make something to eat. To my surprise the fridge was stocked up with veggies, fruits, and other produce. My eyes saw a box of eggs along with a jug of milk. I think I saw some flour in the pantry. Then my mind geared into chef mode and I prepped a batch of a pancake mixture in a stand mixer. I set out the bacon to thaw and placed the box of eggs on the marble island. Luckily there was also a coffee machine so I brewed up a small amount for everyone and went at it. The pancake mixture was a piece of cake, just some flour, baking powder, eggs, salt and sugar to make the base and then I added some cinnamon and one-fourth of a teaspoon of vanilla extract. Many people like their jacks thick and fluffy, but I found having them a bit thinner was the perfect in-between of a pancake and a crepe. This is also one of the signature brunch items dad would make for me and Blair, but I found potential in this breakfast item. I let the ingredients mix until smooth and removed the bowl from the mixer to the stove. While the mix was resting I grabbed one of the pans that hanged above the kitchen island, washed it and then wiped it dry to start making the cakes. I heated up the pan to the perfect temperature to cook the cakes and tossed in a little bit of oil to get them crispy. I got a ladle full of the mixture and poured a small amount on the oiled pan. The ladle helped me create a good looking circle and to make the cake smooth and thin. I flipped the thin cake when pan side down was golden brown. I started to hum a tune, but then someone interrupted me.

          "I knew you were in the kitchen when I smelt cinnamon and brewing coffee" I turned around to see dad awake and ready to assist me on cooking breakfast. He grabbed another pan to cook the eggs and bacon and turned the right stove one. This made me smile since making breakfast with him is what made mornings enjoyable; it was a great way for us to bond over the years and now it is just became our thing.

           "Someone had to start", he laughed at my comment as he placed strips of bacon on the pan. The sizzle of bacon was music to my ears, well the sound food cooking in general is music to my ears; I just love food and preparing it. I flipped the last jack and stacked it on top the others on a clean white ceramic plate. I garnished the top with a few blueberries and mint leaves. I continued by grabbing some fruits and placed them on the table. The coffee machine beeped and I went to it's rescue by turning it off and poured my dad a mug and placed it on his side of the stove. He gave me a warm smile and I went upstairs to wash my face and brush out the morning breath and alcohol from the night before. As I brushed my teeth, I started to think about the art school-Blackwell Academy. The school was promising and would be a new experience to help with my journey as a young chef, but the cons do exist and they are holding me back from this random thought. I'd be leaving my family and friends in California and entering a whole new world. I'll also miss all of the senior activities I have been waiting for since (freshmen) this year along with the senior trip to Walt Disney World. I'd miss out on prom and all of the rallies as a senior, but Blackwell might have these things, it's just a thought, I'm not really going to attend Blackwell. After brushing my teeth through that odd thought, I went back to the room with my stuff and put on some lip balm and changed into a fresh set of clothes: jeans, olive wash tee, and a new pair of undergarments. I fixed my hair up into a messy bun and quite went to the room Blair was sleeping in. She was lying in her bed reading her copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, her nose was embedded into the pages of the book and was completely unaware of her surroundings. Like a ninja I crawled on the floor to her bedside to sneak attack her, but she beat me to it and showed her face to mine and BOO! Blair shot up and smiled at me. She scooted over on her bed and I sat in the empty spot.