Page 13 of Inferno

Juniper

The stupid clearance cake stared at me from the counter when I walked in, the red piping smeared a little at the edges where the gel icing bled onto the white after sitting there too long. I picked it up by the plastic dome and dropped the whole thing into the trash with a thud. The sound echoed in my empty kitchen.

Brett’s things had colonized every flat surface like he’d been planning to stay forever. His gym bag sat haphazard in the hallway where he’d tossed it last time he used it. His shaving cream on the bathroom counter and the stack of real estate magazines beside the toilet all went in the trash. I started in the bedroom and worked my way out, dumping everything I found into a cardboard box I’d swiped from behind the bakery. His clothes smelled like the expensive cologne he favored.

My phone buzzed from inside my purse. Brett’s name lit up the screen. Then a text. Then another. I set the phone face-down on the coffee table and kept working. The messages piled up, the vibration making the table hum.

By midnight, I had three boxes stacked by the front door, along with a couple of garbage bags filled with his shit, and a kitchen that felt like mine again. I’d scrubbed the counters with bleach until my hands stung. The smell burned clean through the apartment, wiping out every trace of him. I slept with the window open and the blankets pulled to my chin.

When the alarm went off at three-thirty I’d only managed a couple hours of light dozing. By four, apron on, ovens preheating, I set about the familiar rhythm of my work. Sure, I was way earlier than normal, but sleep was a lost cause, so I figured I’d get a jump on things. First cake order was for a baby shower on Saturday. Pink and white, two tiers, buttercream roses. Simple. I could do simple with my eyes closed and my brain turned off, which was exactly what I needed.

My phone buzzed at seven. I almost didn’t even look at the thing, but for some reason I glanced over to where I had it laying face up on the counter. Not Brett this time.

Inferno: Did you make it home OK?

I smiled as I wiped flour off my hands and picked up the phone.

Me: Made it. Threw out the cake. Packed his shit. Standard breakup protocol.

Inferno: Protocol needs whiskey. My place at the clubhouse. Friday. You bring the cake this time.

I laughed. The sound surprised me, bouncing off the tiled walls of my empty kitchen.

Me: I’ll think about it. Got a baby shower order to finish.

Inferno: Babies? Gross. Cake? Good!

I couldn’t help but laugh.

At ten I looked up from the register and saw Brett’s car. The leased black Audi idled at the curb across the street. Brett sat behind the wheel, phone to his ear, pretending not to look at the shop. The light turned green and he drove away. This, likely, was Brett being Brett. He’d do petty shit just to be noticed, then pretend to be all innocent. Well. I had better things to do than give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

Later that night I lay in bed and scrolled through my messages. Brett’s texts had tapered off into silence around two in the morning. Twenty-seven messages total. I didn’t read them, instead setting the phone on the nightstand. With any luck, he’d get bored of pestering me and get on with his life.

But the next day his car was back in the same spot, though at a different time. Just so happened to be while I was loading a wedding cake into a customer’s SUV. He sat there the entire time with the engine running, not leaving until I went back inside the bakery.

My phone buzzed during my lunch break. How was this even my life? No one ever called me. Brett never called me! Yet, now, after he broke up with me, he wanted to call and shoot the shit? Christ, my life!

Inferno: How’s the baby cake?

Shit. Seeing Inferno’s name light up instead of Brett’s was a welcome relief. I sent back a picture of the finished product, pink roses climbing the side of a white tier.

Inferno: Jesus that’s good. You’re hired.

Me: Already hired. By myself.

Inferno: Smartest person I know.

I put the phone away and ate my sandwich standing at the sink. I didn’t want to examine my feelings for Inferno too closely. Logically, there was no way for us to actually… date. Right? Did I want to jump from one man straight to another? I’d have to think about that. Though I knew I’d be meeting him Friday like he said. And I’d bring cake.

Thursday mid-morning. when very few people were in, Brett finally came into the shop. The bell rang and he strolled in wearing a blazer and jeans, hair perfectly tousled, smiling at me like we were old friends catching up. The blonde was conspicuously absent.

“Hey, Junie.”

“Juniper.” I didn’t look up from the display case. “What can I get you?”

“Just black coffee.”

I poured it and set it on the counter so there was no way he could “accidentally” touch me. He set a five on the counter and put the change in the tip jar.