#73: The Rewards of the Righteous

I volunteered to run the table at our church’s bake sale and then I thought, why not volunteer to bake something? Really I didn’t care much for bake sales or the snotty youth group the money would go to but I knew Missy would stop by at some point or maybe even more than once.

When she did I tried not to get too excited. What do you have? she said, and I said, very calmly, we have these brownies, this cake. And we have these cranberry bars. That I made. You made them? she said. Do you cook? A little, I said. I thought: I could cook you anything you want. Wow, she said. What’s the recipe? One egg, I said, and I think a cup of milk. And the mix. Oh, she said. Why would you bother? I mean people can make that kind of thing themselves.

After she left I was so upset I went to throw out the whole pan and then I thought I might as well eat it and I did a little of both. At home I thought of calling and asking what gourmet meal she was preparing or what organic delicacy or whatever but then the red in my head thinned out and I thought, no, no, there’s a better way. I got online and scored a recipe finally and had to drive to the grocery store that’s open all night and came home and printed out the recipe big and it got sort of stuck to the counter with all the milk and the water. I’d spent a stupid twenty dollars on this recipe but I turned on the TV while I mixed the crust and that made me happy. The smell of the bars cooking was like the breath of a monster made of berries and when they came out I almost dug in with a spoon before I remembered they were for someone else.

It had been a while since I’d been by Missy’s house and I’d never actually stopped there but I found the place and got up to the door. I had the pan wrapped in foil and I planned to ring the bell and go or even just leave them and go because it was about three in the morning but there might be raccoons or homeless people roaming the suburbs and I thought, I put a lot of effort and money into these. So I kind of knocked on the door a little and nobody answered. Then I went around back to see if a door there was open, thinking I might just leave the pan in her kitchen. Then I saw the pool all wet and lit-up and I got over the fence and thought, A pool. I hadn’t known Missy even had a pool. I knew her husband did something important for the bank and I thought, The rewards of the righteous.