Bittersweet Motives

Amy thought she had concocted a fool proof plan, which would prove to be foolish as she was not the only one who had ulterior motives for the cookie exchange. She had not even baked so much as a sleeve of pre-made cookie dough before, but she added meticulously researched ingredients to her cart with aplomb.

Wes was the first to arrive, as was customary for the role of best friend. The dollar store decorations clashed harshly with his designer clothing and the haphazard poinsettia placement offended his well-coiffed hair. He eyed Amy’s chocolate chip cookies with disgust, noting that they looked like they had been deflated like a pool float at the end of summer.

“So, why a cookie exchange? I didn’t know you baked.”

“I don’t,” she mumbled with difficulty as she struggled to hang a string of green and red paper pennants, her cheap red sweater rising up her side as she reached out. “Just trying something new.” She admired the finishing touch as Wes raised his eye brows at the low brow aesthetic.

Kate arrived next, donning a dress that was an inch too short in every direction. “Is Anna coming?” she asked as she took her coat off.

“Hi to you too. She’s coming, but she’s not here yet. I thought you two were cool.”

“We are. Totally cool.” She adjusted her dress and fixed her hair before finally saying hello to Amy and Wes, who questioned her choice of apparel.

“Just wanted to look nice for the party is all.”

Wes responded with a sarcastic, “Right.” He and Amy exchanged exacerbated looks as Kate headed to deposit her cookies on the table set up in the overly tidied living room. Wes asked who else was coming, to which Amy mentioned her new coworker, Carla. “We needed bodies. You said four people wasn’t enough,” she added defensively.

Carla arrived next, dressed head to toe in black business casual attire, wielding her cookies in one hand and rolling a tote behind her in the other.

“What’s all that?” questioned Amy, pointing to the unexpected supplies.

“Just thought I’d bring along some goodies in case anyone was interested,” Carla answered with an enthusiastic smile. After plopping her cookies down indifferently on the cookie table, she proceeded to set up an elegant display of various creams and powders, along with placards displaying the description and price of each of the products.

“Is she serious?” Amy asked Wes, who responded with an incredulous shrug.

After a deep breath, Amy fingered the piece of paper that she wrote her speech on, confirming its continued existence in her pocket. She made sure each guest had the proper refreshments before joining them on the couch to partake in the surprisingly pleasant small talk, suddenly finding the scene unsettling as memories of the night before flashed across her mind. The pleasant small talk juxtaposed with the image of her husband berating her, proved too contrasting and she had to refocus her mind on the current moment. The setting was the same; the same tan upholstered couch; the same light blue painted wall; the same wooden coffee table adorned with the candles her husband had got for her birthday; but it felt like an entirely different world.

“Do we start on the cookies now?” asked Carla.

“We’re just waiting on one more person,” Amy responded.

“Yeah, Anna’s always late,” sighed Kate.

Nearly an hour after when the party was supposed to have started, there was still no sign of Anna. Carla started sampling her products to a bored looking Kate, who kept eyeing the front door. Wes and Amy chatted courteously, both asking about their respective partners, both reluctant to say much.

When Anna crossed the threshold into the house, Kate became suddenly more interested in Carla’s merchandise and moved flirtatiously closer to her on the couch. Anna greeted Kate coldly as she joined the group, adding yet another clashing style to the already incongruous group with her buffalo plaid top, ripped jeans, and Timberland boots.

Once the final cookies were added to the table, the sampling began. Amy consumed both cookies and wine quickly, hoping they would fuel the courage she needed to deliver her planned speech. When she finally felt ready, she waited hesitantly for a break in the conversation, at which point she reached into her pocket, horrified to find it was empty. She hid her panic as she calmly searched each of her pockets, smiling at the lighthearted conversation.

“Did you lose something?” whispered Wes.

“Nope,” Amy lied.

The curious whispering caused the conversation to plunge into an awkward silence, which was taken advantage of by Carla, who used the opportunity to dive into a transparently planned sales pitch. Amy knocked back the remaining wine in her glass before scolding a stunned Carla for turning her party into a sales presentation.

Once the shock wore off, Carla responded indignantly, “I just didn’t want your friends to miss out on this incredible opportunity.”

Amy felt the anger growing like a tidal wave and excused herself to the bathroom. Instead, she took a detour to the kitchen to look for her speech while she calmed down. Unsuccessful on both endeavors, she poured herself a new glass of wine and resolved to speak from her heart. She returned to the group to find that Kate and Anna were missing as Carla continued her pitch on Wes, who was sampling an under eye cream.

“He asked to see it,” blurted Carla defensively.

“Where are Kate and Anna?” Amy probed accusingly at Wes.

“They went to the bathroom,” answered Wes plainly as he viewed his skin in the mirror and read the ingredients on the bottle.

“Both of them?” she spat, no longer making any attempt to be polite.

She ran to the empty bathroom and sighed with frustration. Deciding she should check the bedroom for her speech while nearby, the door swung back to reveal the two missing people kissing on her bed. Kate’s dress was pulled down to reveal her bare chest, only partially covered by Anna’s groping hands.

Amy shielded her face from the R-rated sight. “Are you two serious?” Kate pulled her dress back up as Amy stormed back to the living room where Wes was purchasing a starter set from Carla. Kate and Anna rejoined them minutes later, apologizing through unrelenting giggles, unable to keep their hands to themselves in the wake of their reignited romance.

Amy drew another set of deep breaths in an attempt to return her blood pressure to normal levels. The thought of scrapping her announcement felt both desirable and necessary. Suddenly, someone was clinking their glass, causing Amy’s heart to start. She was not ready to give her speech. Who knew she wanted to give a speech?

“Thank you, Amy, for putting this cookie exchange together,” toasted Wes. “The cookies have been delicious, and the company, odd but delightful. I can’t think of a better time than in front of my closest friends...” he hesitated before adding, “and Carla, to announce that John and I are engaged.”

The room erupted with jovial screams. Not wanting to appear selfish, Amy’s face contorted into feigned happiness, but the chaotic jubilance was too tumultuous and the facade came crumbling down. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to maintain the floodgates in her eyes, she raced to her bedroom, locked the door behind her, curled up into a ball, and cried breathlessly into her pillow.

Nearly an hour passed before anyone knocked on the door. It was Wes.

“Open up.” No response. “I sent everyone home.” Silence. “I also cleaned everything up.” Nothing. “And I found your note.”

Amy opened the door and collapsed, salty eyed, into his arms, which coaxed even more tears to emerge from her eyes.

“A cookie party is an odd place to announce that you’re going to leave your husband,” Wes quipped, procuring a hopeless laugh from Amy.

“I needed to get him out of the house. I thought I needed all of your support. It all got away from me,” she admitted. “He’s not going to let me leave. He doesn’t care if I’m unhappy. He says whatever he needs to get me to stay. I can’t get out. How do I get out?”

Wes let her cry in his arms, reminding her every few minutes that she was going to be okay and that she was going to get through this. She felt safe for the first time in years, a feeling that overwhelmed her even further. When the worst of it subsided, Wes helped her pack a bag and gather up the cookies. “We’re going to need these,” he reasoned.

Amy reread the newly scribed note addressed to her husband, outlining why she was leaving him. Wes made her take out any apologies she tried to make. With the guilt stacking up in her mind, she added, “He might need some cookies too.”

Wes rummaged through the bag of cookie tins and pulled out Amy’s batch of cookies. “Fine, but he only gets these abominations.”

“I didn’t think they were that bad,” argued Amy lightheartedly.

“Let’s just say if you pick up any new hobbies during your separation, baking should not be one of them.”

Laughing felt like a luxury she couldn’t afford, but she indulged in a polite, reluctant chuckle. Before their final exit, she gazed upon the counter, contemplating the contrasting scenes that took place (and were yet to take place) there. The counter where countless meals were cooked. The counter where they had sex one time just to try it only to find it was difficult and uncomfortable. The counter where they drank coffee and filled out the crossword every Sunday morning.

The counter that would greet her husband in her stead with a life-changing note and a tin of salty, flat, chocolate chip cookies.