Cookie Recovery

      Liv puttered around her puny kitchen, slightly reddened eyes itchy and distracting. Why, oh why, had she decided to do this again? At 48, one would think she would be a seasoned hostess, but this occasion would be unique. Not only would it be different because she had never led a cookie exchange before, but also because of who would be attending. Should she break it to Heather as soon as she arrived, preventing her from feeling manipulated, or should she allow her young guest to enjoy one more evening without the blemish which would no doubt blot her memories of Liv? Aunt Liv, actually. That’s what Heather had always referred to her as, but in the 18-year-old’s mind, it had always been a term of love and not of blood. How would their interactions change because of this evening? Liv had to push the bleak thoughts out of her brain if she stood a chance at making it through her dessert party. 

            Come what may, at least there would be good food. Liv had always thrown herself into her cooking whenever stress had invaded. After the stint in the clinic, there were weeks where Liv barely left her kitchen at all. Baking therapy, the counselor had called it. Whatever it was, the spices and sauces and seasonings would seep into her senses and drown out the noise of life, allowing a calm to settle once more. The drugs couldn’t find her if she was buried in recipes and cookbooks. Would Heather run the other way, knowing the whole sordid story? 

           Liv had played enough “what if’s” games over the years and had no time for that now. The guests would be at her door in ten minutes or less. Gracie and George always had to arrive first, their nature preventing them from being late to anything. Kelly and Tom would most likely trickle in a few minutes late to not seem overeager. Bernard and Pamela fought a never-ending battle with tardiness. She expected them to be more than fifteen minutes late. That just left Heather. Liv wondered if she would bring that nice boy, William. Would he be a support to Heather during an emotionally charged moment, or would he bolt? She suspected she would find out by the end, and that is when she had finally decided it would, indeed, occur. Let Heather consume the cookies and companionship before the bomb was dropped, ripping her past from her.

          The doorbell shrilled, reverberating along the hall to her ears over the hot stove. As predicted, Gracie and George stood at the door, each clutching a brightly wrapped gift bag in the shape of a gingerbread boy. Liv swiftly ushered them to the circle of folding chairs littering her living room. The cramped space was more relaxed than the dining room, and the coffee table provided ample space for cookies, snacks, milk, and sodas. 

         The process repeated itself. Kelly and Tom presented their sugar cookies at two passed five, cloaking themselves with polite social etiquette. When Bernard and Pamela rushed her porch before Heather, Liv began to fear she had heard the news prematurely. News wasn’t the right word. Secret was more accurate. A secret which had threatened to strangle Liv on more than one occasion. Surely, Heather would show. All this planning and meticulous moving of parts and people would be pointless if Heather did not come.  

          All at once, Liv’s fear evaporated when the sharp sound of the doorbell rang once more. Liv’s murmuring guests could not be bothered to even greet the new arrivals. Liv didn’t mind. She wanted this moment all to herself, for after this night, the whole evening would be memorialized. Whether for good or bad, Liv had yet to discover. 

           Heather attacked her aunt upon the sight of her. “Aunt Liv!” 

          The hug was nearly Liv’s undoing. Would she ever feel these arms again in carefree greeting? She observed the quiet young man, William, following close behind Heather, shadowing and demurring. Could he comfort a distraught, emotional girlfriend? The answer would soon be upon them.

             Liv leaned heavily on her therapeutic treats to soothe her battered nerves, and everyone’s crunching and munching soon filled the room. The exchange flowed seamlessly, and a holly, jolly mood overtook them all. The departures began in reverse order with Bernard and Pamela jumping to their feet like they were late for their next get-together. Many hugs and air kisses accompanied Kelly and Tom out the door. Gracie and George hovered near Heather, drawing out the joyful event.

              Finally, only Heather and William remained. Liv swallowed audibly. How would she do this? She wouldn’t make it through her tale… not without breaking Heather’s heart. Long ago actions and choices rose around Liv, reminding her of their long-lasting consequences. She couldn’t take it anymore. It burst from her lips like it was fleeing from her perpetually tortured soul. 

              “I’m your biological mother.”

               The reasons for denial and secrecy had died along with Betty, the woman who had raised Heather since infancy. Liv’s daughter opened her eyes until they mimicked two moons, suspended in a confused fog. 

             “W-what? But then, who is mom… I mean, Betty?” Heather’s hoarse whisper echoed through Liv’s psyche. 

             “My counselor… former counselor.”

             Heather’s brow furrowed. “Counselor? For what?”

             Liv shrugged. A one word answer wouldn’t begin to cover it, but it would do the job for now. “Drugs. I was clean!” She hastened to add. “I didn’t take a single hit the whole pregnancy with you, but as soon as you came, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was around the same people and hadn’t put in place a proper chain of accountability. I have now. I’ve been clean for 11 years and 260 days.” Liv allowed her pride to show. 

            Even if Heather decided to never speak to her again, she would know Liv’s determination to thrive was real. 

            The conversation took turn after turn. William, sitting tight-lipped with an arm slung around Heather’s shoulders, was the only constant. Nothing this large could be boiled down to one evening of Q and A’s.    

          Heather finally collapsed back against the couch seat where they had relocated an hour earlier. Her heavy sigh conveyed her utter distress. “I can’t take anymore, Aunt Li… or I don’t even know what to call you!”

            “Please! ‘Aunt Liv’ is perfectly accurate for our relationship. You have known Betty as your true mother your entire life. I will not destroy that image. You let me know when you’re ready for more answers. I will be right here, waiting. No rush.” 

             Liv walked them to the door, brutally squashing the tear drops that wished to fall. She could be strong for a moment more. “Goodbye, Heather. I pray this is something we can build on in the future, but I understand it will take time. I love you; I always have.”

               Her voice trembled with the last delivery, especially as Heather continued to William’s Jeep without a backwards glance. He gingerly helped her into the passenger seat, but before he could close the door, Heather’s arm snaked out to halt its progress.

              “Aunt Liv, I love you too. That won’t change. You just might not see me for a while. Ok?” 

              “I understand, Honey. Come back when you’re able. Give me a ring. Anything!” She waved, feeling manic emotion throbbing upward. 

             The Jeep had barely disappeared around the corner before she lost it. Her tears emptied her spirit. Liv lifted the picture of Betty off of her side table as she sank to the couch. 

              “Oh, Betty, why did you have to leave both of us? I need your advice on managing these new situations. Thank you for all you did for us. We will never forget you.”

              Liv hugged the picture frame to her chest and allowed the full range of feelings to flow through her. She would be alright. She was a survivor after all. She would use every recovery step to get through this.

              Perhaps it was time to whip up another batch of cookies.