Blinded to see the real apple of my pie

There she stood on the aisle, across the street. She seems to be looking for me. And as I waved my arms upward to get her attention, she glanced at me. My heart melted into deep affection. Her eyes were blue. Her long, brown ash-colored hair swayed with the wind. Her cherry-like lips were fascinating. The complexity of her skin was fair. She was not tall nor short, she was just at the exact point where any man would dream of. I must admit, I have been too cold on her. But I knew one thing for sure, she was the lady that has been predestined by fate for me. I have regretted over the years why I have blamed her for the unfavorable scenes that have taken place in my life. I gawked at my left and right to see any vehicle passing by. I saw that there were none. And as I propel myself towards her, crossing the street, my memories with Emma played like a film before me.

My family owns a bakery shop. Not to brag, our pastry products were highly commendable by five-star pastry chefs and by the local people. Our economic development went high as the stars at night. I should say, I was lucky to be a part of the Perkin’s family.

 Our shop started as a small box on the main highway of Silver City. My mom had a degree in Pastry and Baking Arts at the University of Silver. I was born out of wedlock and my mom had to work day and night just to sustain our living. I was grateful to have finished my middle-school years. I did not go to college to help my mother. Most of the time, we were rejected by the whites to rent a house just because of the color of our skin even though we had the money to pay. Despite this, my mother and I started our bakery shop, Crunch and Bites. Our family helped us to push through this kind of business. Our business motivated me to pursue and help me in my college days.

Then years later, after I have finished a college degree, the same with my mother’s, our business soared high and we already owned a bakery shop with business permits. That small box of ours turned into a well-known bakery shop.

In the fifth year of our prosperous reign in Silver City, in the world of pastries, Emma’s family moved to a building next to ours. We did not expect that this family would soon be the cause of the slump economic process of our business.

Paste family, Emma’s clan, also runs a bakery shop, PasteRy Pinks. Emma came from a well-to-do family. Her family was a family of pastry chefs that have all earned a degree in Pastry and Baking Arts. I must admit, I got insecure about them. Frankly, I wasn’t attracted to Emma at first. Yes, she was pretty, I mean, more like a goddess. Yet, I did not immediately fall for her.

Upon their arrival at Silver City, we started to lose customers because they turned their attention to PasteRy Pinks. Our profit started to drop day by day. A rivalry had erupted between our business and Emma’s business. Because of this, there would be fiery conversations between my mother and hers.

One day, my mother had distributed flyers outside our bakery shop. The flyers contained our products and their corresponding prices. Mrs. Paste, Emma’s mother, got a flyer from my mother. I was inside the shop entertaining a few of our remaining customers.

“Oh, so this is your flyers for the public?” Mrs. Paste said in a gloomy tone, “I don’t think that’s a good idea to attract customers in today’s time of technology. How about…”

Because of the heated anger that my mother had in herself, she could not stop herself to shout at Mrs. Paste.

“Who do you think you are?” my mother said as she threw the bundle of flyers to Mrs. Paste while yelling. “Don’t you know what you have done? Because of you and your family, we already lost thousands of customers and yet, you still have the guts to tell me what to do and what not to do?”

Perhaps my mother got insulted with the way Mrs. Paste had talked to her. I got startled by the voice of my mother. I did not yet bother to go and check out what had happened because we still have customers.

My mother’s yelling intensified, and I had decided to go and see what happened. When I went out, I felt the blood in my veins boiling while the environment around me darkened. I saw Mrs. Paste pulling my mother’s hair.

As any son would do, I immediately went to them. I got mad since the people just watched my mother and Mrs. Paste’s fight as if they were just watching an MMA match. I got in between them and separated them. I shouted at Mrs. Paste. Emma had also gone to us to stop my mother and Mrs. Paste. She also got mad and she shouted at me.

“Why are you being like that!?” she shrieked, “Do you even know what happened here, Liam!?” she said as she gestured her mother to go inside their shop.

“Oh, so you think, we were the ones who started this situation!?” I hollered, “You came here when I came first and so you think that we were the ones who started this? I never wanted a situation like this, we never wanted this. These all started ever since this family of yours came and moved next to us.”

I told my mom to go inside the bakery shop and drink some cold water. She went inside while Emma kept on clamoring at my back. I did not tune in to the words that Emma yelled at my back. I immediately went inside and slammed the door. The spectators of our feud dispersed as soon as Emma went inside of their shop with her mother.

Ever since that quarrel of them’s, the gap between my family and the Pastes grew bigger and bigger that even when my eyes meet with Emma’s, we would quickly remove our gaze with each other.

There were numerous instances where my family and the Pastes would dispute with each other. One time, my aunt, Dorothy Perkins, almost stabbed Emma’s grandmother, Charlotte, because Mrs. Dorothy discriminated against us because we were from the “black descendants.”

On these occasions, the rivalry between our bakery and Emma’s already became worst. Despite this, our profits started to dramatically increase like around three percent of our recent profit, every day.

When my mother turned 60 and I have turned 20, our family decided to choose me as the adjacent owner of the bakery. My mother said that I should run our family business. At first, I was hesitant because I knew I still have little experience in running a business.

Alongside with this, perhaps just a coincidence, I guess? Emma was also chosen to run their bakery because her mother got sick and the Paste family has put their full trust in Emma.

After the legal process of turning over the business into my hands, I immediately started to have a full renovation of our bakery shop. It seems like my tactics in running a business mirrored the way Emma also run her bakery shop. She also had a complete make-over on her store.

I and Emma seem to be cats and dogs ever since we were the ones who ran our respective businesses. We never irk with each other. There were times when her shop doesn’t have any change for a bill. She would try to go inside our store to ask for a change, but I have pinned signage at the façade of our store saying, “ALL THEE ARE WELCOME EXCEPT FOR THE PASTES.” Well, I must say, bet on it, she was offended. I had declared a formal “cold war” against her and her family. Since that, she never dared to step on the front door of our shop. I got happy when I haven’t seen her for how many weeks already. And if I spotted her, my blood would boil again.

I thought that I was the only person with such a vicious mind. Unexpectedly, she was also.

One day, a five-star pastry chef visited my bakery shop. He had requested a Diamond Chocolate Cake–– our masterpiece.

“Mr. Perkins, if you may, would you let me taste a slice of your Diamond Chocolate Cake? I heard that it was such a best-selling cake. I would be honored if I can taste this,” Chef Grantz pleaded.

“Yes, Chef Grantz. I would be dignified if I, myself, would make this one for you.”

I clapped my hands, and my assistants ran towards me, while they were clothing me with my apron and my toque. I prepared mixing bowls, wire whisks, and measuring cups. I also had pre-heated the oven. I double-checked everything and I detected that I missed preparing one ingredient–– cake flour. As I peered at the flour container, I found out that there were none. My eyes widened with horror because I wanted to amuse Chef Grantz.

I told my assistant to buy a pound of flour at the nearest pastry products shop that was five miles away from us. My problem worsened as we found out that our delivery car ran out of fuel.

“Where are you, Mr. Perkins?” Chef Grantz hollered, “I’ve been waiting for an hour already and I still did not have a taste of your Diamond chocolate cake.”

My knees shook with fear. I suddenly remembered a bakery shop that could probably lend me some flour–– PasteRy Pinks. I raced outside towards Emma’s shop, but I lost confidence as I saw her counterpart in my signage–– “ALL THEE ARE WELCOME EXCEPT FOR THE PERKINS.” I saw her watching me and her eyes watching mine in a sorrowful manner as if she was mocking me. I retreated to our shop with disgrace.

I had no choice but to request Chef Grantz to order another product. Suddenly, my assistant came with a pound of cake flour.

“Mr. Perkins, somebody has given us a pound of cake flour.”

“Who gave it?” I asked.

“I don’t know sir, I just found it at the back with a note saying it’s for you.”

I immediately grabbed the flour and started to bake our masterpiece. Chef Grantz was satisfied with our cake and recommended us to other famous chefs.

I knew that I and Emma would never find favor with each other. I knew that we were foreordained to be a complete opposing force with each other, exact black and white, hot and cold, not so long after our Town’s Annual Holiday Festival.

We had a sale to attract many customers and as expected, they were. We closed our shop at around 8 PM to also have some time to jam and enjoy myself. I went to the disco hall of our town to have some good time to kind’ a relieve myself from the business pressures that I presently face. When I was about to leave, I saw Emma.

She just shot Cupid’s arrow right through my heart. I fell for her. She looked glamorous with her polka-dotted white dress. She was smiling while talking with her cousin Amy. I took the time to stare at her. When she noticed that I fixed my eyes on her, she looked at me. I thought that she would roll her blue eyes from me like I expected that she would frown at me and disregard me, but she smiled. Her smile almost made me faint. Her ear to ear smile just suddenly swept away all my problems like I was facing heaven itself. I started to like her–– no, I was falling in love with her.

I went towards her and she brushed her hair towards her ear.

“Hey, Emma.”

“Hey, Liam, how are you?”

My heart was jumping that I could feel the butterflies in my belly fluttering.

“I’m fine.”

“Good for you,” she said. “How’s your business going?”

“Still good,” I said while I was fixing my hair. “You know Emma, I am just happy.”

“Why?” she asked startingly as if she was expecting a good reason, and yet, her expectation, I presume, is correct. I think she wanted to talk to me in the very first place.

“Ever since you transferred here, this is our first time to talk calmly. I am just very happy with it.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, “I have always longed to talk to you and you know, we didn’t have that good impression at first. I’ve always wanted to make it up to you that was why I sent a pound of flour at your shop.”

When I heard what she just did, regrets filled my heart. As far as I can remember, if not because of her, we wouldn’t have the chance to impress Chef Grantz a couple of months ago. Yes, I was right, I knew it, she also wanted to talk to me, but why during a Holiday? Isn’t it a coincidence?

“That was you?” I said gloomily.

“Yeah, I just didn’t……”

“Thank you, Emma,” I said abruptly.

“You’re welcome Liam,” she said as she walked past me.

I knew I was too dumb to be scared. I had the chance, but will I let go of the opportunity to befriend her? Or even try to take her heart?

I turned back at grabbed her hand at the back.

“Can we be friends?” I asked shyly.

I did not take a second for her to say, “Yes, why not? I would love to.”

Maybe I was too nuts, I don’t know what was the force that drove me to suddenly hug her.

“Liam, ahem,” she said.

My consciousness suddenly woke up and I released her.

“I’m sorry,” I said while I scratched the back of my head.

Surprisingly, she hugged me. “Let’s make a deal.”

“What deal?” I asked while I stood frozen inside her warm hug. My heart beats faster than the rippling water of the ocean’s wave.

“Let’s be friends like real close friends. I hope that we could forgive and forget everything, won’t you?

“Yeah, sure.”

She then set me free and I remained intact. She then walked away, and she disappeared into a corner.

From that day onwards, I would always talk to Emma. I found out that there were many things that we were both similar. I found out that we were not, after all, cats and dogs, we were just blinded by our anger to see the real love that was fated for us ahead. We became best friends and not so long after, we owned each other’s hearts. Our families cooled off their heads and became so close even in our respective businesses.

One day, I invited Emma to take a stroll with me at the park in the afternoon. I got late and I hurriedly walked towards the pedestrian lane, and I just saw her.

There she stood on the aisle, across the street. She seems to be looking for me. And as I waved my arms upward to get her attention, she glanced at me. My heart melted into deep affection. Her eyes were blue. Her long, brown ash-colored hair swayed with the wind. Her cherry-like lips were fascinating. The complexity of her skin was fair. She was not tall nor short, she was just at the exact point where any man would dream of. I must admit, I have been too cold on her. But I knew one thing for sure, she was the lady that has been predestined by fate for me. I have regretted over the years why I have blamed her for the unfavorable scenes that have taken place in my life. I gawked at my left and right to see any vehicle passing by. I saw that there were none. I immediately crossed the street.

“Emma,” I went near her while I took her hand.

I wore a black sweater and I brought with me a little box which contained our future, the thing that would change my and Emma’s status to the fullest.

We took a walk, with our hands holding each other’s, and we stopped to watch the beautiful sunset.

“What a romantic scenery,” she exclaimed.

As she was taking the time to relish the spectacle, I got on my left knee and took out the box. I grabbed the ring and my confidence to tell her as she gazed her eyes back to me saying,

“Emma Paste, will you marry me?”

It took a long time for her to answer as she broke down in tears and joy–– tears of joy.

“Yes, I do. I do,” she said as I stood up and kissed her.

We, with the blessings of our respective families, got married. We were blessed by God with two children and our bakery shop skyrocketed at the sky. We incorporated both of our bakery shops and named it “Paste’s and Perkin’s.”

I knew it, love isn’t always revealed explicitly. You always have to cross beyond borders or even swallow fire figuratively to see the colors that love lays. I knew that I was too cold at first. I was too harsh. But, one thing is for sure, I knew I was blinded to see the real apple of my pie in my life–– Emma.