Not Perfect(30)

“Cranberry again, dear?” Nora asked. “I do know how you like cranberry. Today I can also offer you cherry, blueberry, butterscotch, or chocolate chip.”

Tabitha looked around. She chose to come here, but what were the chances that an entirely stocked muffin factory would just be waiting for her? It made no sense; there must be a catch. She thought of Fern, who would love chocolate-chip muffins more than anything.

“Chocolate chip?”

“Chocolate chip it is,” Nora said. “But first, let me take a bite of the candy. It can take some time to feel anything.”

Nora peeled back a small bit of the wax paper and took a bite of the caramel. She closed her eyes and chewed, then swallowed.

“I like to let it sink in,” she said, with her eyes still closed.

“Huh, okay,” Tabitha said, worrying that she was intruding. “You know what, Nora, you don’t have to make muffins for me. I just stopped by to see if there was anything I could do for you. Do you need anything?”

Nora opened her eyes and looked right at Tabitha.

“I need to feel busy and not old,” she said. “The muffins help. The marijuana helps. Company helps.”

“Well,” Tabitha said, wishing she’d been able to think of another place to go to confess her sins, “chocolate-chip muffins would be so nice. My daughter would love them.”

“You have a daughter?” Nora asked, wide eyed. She looked like a little kid. “I always wanted a daughter. I have a granddaughter, which is lovely, but it isn’t the same as raising a daughter.”

Tabitha’s mind flashed to the last time she took her mother out to dinner, though of course, they didn’t know it would be the last time. How do you ever know it’s going to be the last time? Tabitha cringed. Her mother had always been a little obsessed with “last times”—the last time Tabitha nursed each baby, the last time Tabitha carried them, the last time her mother had carried her as a child. There always had to be a last time. Tabitha hated that, but now she let herself think about it for a second while she nibbled at her candy and Nora mixed chocolate chips into the batter. That dinner had been so, so hard and really the last thing in the world she wanted to do. There was not one tiny ounce of her that wanted to be eating out with her mother. She wanted to be home with the kids and Stuart. She wanted to be reading in bed, or binge-watching Friday Night Lights. She did not want to basically carry her frail, wrinkled mother into Sang Kee, the best Chinese restaurant near her mother’s apartment in Wynnewood. Of course, the table was up a few steps, so everyone came running to take an arm and carry the walker up, while Tabitha stood behind her mother with her arms outstretched, just in case. Her mother had been wearing a light-blue sweater, with a scarf neatly tied around her neck, and those strange black pants that Tabitha always suspected were really pajama bottoms, even though her mother insisted they were not. They finally were seated at the table, her mother smiling, so happy to be there, and Tabitha being curt, rushed. But her mother had pretended not to notice. She ordered her favorite—moo shu chicken—and she had a drink, a scotch. Had that been her last scotch? The last one of thousands she’d had in her lifetime?

“Can you open the oven for me, dear?” Nora asked, the filled cupcake tin in hand. Tabitha noticed that she had sprinkled sugar on top and made smiley faces with the chocolate chips: two eyes, a nose, and a happy mouth.

“Wow,” Tabitha said, leaning in to get the door. She pulled it down and waited for Nora to slide the tin in, then she shut it a little harder than she meant to. She reached for her candy and took a sizeable bite.

“Oh dear, that’s a lot,” Nora said seriously. “You aren’t driving home, are you?”

“No, I walked here.” Tabitha continued to play along. “But thank you for your concern.”

“Those will be ready in about twenty or twenty-five minutes,” Nora said. “Can you keep track of the time?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s retire to the living room,” Nora said, grabbing her piece of candy.

They sat down, and Nora turned her full attention to the caramel, pulling tiny bits off and placing them in her mouth, then closing her eyes. Tabitha watched, taking another nibble of her candy and wondering if thinking and believing something had special powers was enough to give it special powers. Nora seemed completely uninterested in conversation, and Tabitha didn’t mind. She was just thinking that the muffins must be close to being ready when she started to feel a little light-headed, and then she was filled with this great feeling, like everything was going to be okay. She put her head back, smiled. Oh my god, she thought, I’m high!

“Oh good, dear, it must be working,” Nora said, surprising her. Maybe Tabitha hadn’t thought that. Maybe she had actually said it.

Tabitha wanted to say something nice, like she was sorry she had doubted Nora in the first place. Also, how stupid of her. Of course, she knew edibles were a real thing, she just hadn’t had the chance to try any. How hilarious was it that an old lady introduced her to them? She wanted to talk about all of this, but she couldn’t find the words. Where were her words? She’d find them eventually. What was important now was to take another small bite of her candy.

Tabitha could sit here all day. There was something magical about this apartment with its funny-candy tin and muffin-making oven. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like she had to confess anything. So what if she took a few stuffed peppers? Nobody was eating them anyway. And as for the cinnamon sugar, she’d replace it as soon as she could. It was totally worth it to see Fern’s face that morning when she presented the cinnamon toast—sure the bread was old, but once it was toasted you could barely tell. Really, she was doing her best; she didn’t have anything to own up to. Everything was great, perfect even.