A. Mayes - A Slice of Magic

I could pinpoint the exact moment when my feelings about dogs changed. I was thirteen and I was over at my friend Lily’s house. She had a twin brother, Ed, and I was totally in love with him. I was at their birthday party, and I had lost an earring. I was on my hands and knees looking for it under the sofa while everyone else was in the kitchen getting pizza. Ed came to help me find it. He told me he liked my side ponytail. At that moment, I knew we were going to kiss. As I leaned forward and closed my eyes, ready to take this next big step in my romantic life, I was greeted not by the warm soft lips I was expecting, but by the large wet tongue of their black Lab who had appeared out of nowhere to participate in this monumental occasion. Needless to say, a romance with Ed didn’t blossom from that day, but my aversion to dogs did.

I shuddered. I could still remember exactly how that dog’s tongue felt in my mouth.

As though she could sense I was at a loss, Mitzy walked over to the back door and looked meaningfully over her shoulder. I found a leash hanging on a hook nearby and clipped it on her collar. She led me around to the front of the shop where there was a patch of grass. While she did her business, I took the opportunity to look around and take in my new surroundings.

The pie shop was just off the main street. On one side was a florist called Petunia’s Petals. The windows were packed with various brightly colored bouquets. On the other side was a vacant building. Remnants of clear tape clung to the front windows, and I could see the outline of the letters over the door that read, ‘Vinnie’s Video Galaxy.’ Flora was watching me through the window of her bookstore just across the street. She waved when she noticed I was looking back at her. I felt a little tug on the leash and realized Mitzy was directing me back towards the door.

‘Excuse me.’ I heard a voice behind me. I turned and saw a round man with thinning brown hair and a dark green cardigan hurrying towards me. He stopped by my side and pushed his gold-rimmed glasses further up on his nose. ‘You seem to have forgotten to pick up after your dog.’

‘What?’

‘You need to pick up after your dog,’ he repeated.

‘Pick up what?’ I asked.

He pointed to the pile in the grass. Mitzy assumed we were admiring her handiwork and wagged her tail proudly at us.

‘Ew, no,’ I said horrified.

‘It’s the law,’ he said almost joyfully. ‘I’m Sheriff Buddy.’

I glanced around uncertainly. ‘I’m Susanna. How do I…’ I trailed off. Was this some kind of new girl hazing? He pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. I’m guessing he always kept a stash on him in case opportunities like this arose. He demonstrated putting it over his hand and mimed picking up the pile before pulling it off his hand and giving it to me.

Disgusted, I put the plastic bag over my hand and picked up Mitzy’s mess under his watchful eye. With a satisfied nod, he was off.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he called over his shoulder.

‘You too,’ I said, not really meaning it.

Once inside, I disposed of Mitzy’s mess before heading upstairs to Aunt Erma’s apartment. There was a door at the top of the stairs that stood open. Had it been left open or could Mitzy open doors?

The apartment was colorful and cozy, just like Aunt Erma’s house had been when I was a kid. She used to have a secret room in her house that only she and I were allowed to go into. It was filled with toys and games and books. We would pile blankets and pillows on the floor and spend hours in there. In retrospect it was probably just a walk-in closet, but at the time I thought it was the most fabulous place in the whole world.

The door opened into the living room where there was a soft red sofa in front of a small television. The sofa had a blue and green quilt draped over the back. Fairy lights lined the bookshelves on the wall. One of the shelves was full of toys. I recognized some of the toys from the secret room. There was a new addition, a doll with blue hair, wings, and a wand. When I picked her up she said, ‘Can you feel the magic?’ in a sing song voice. Hmm, a little creepy. I set her down facing the back of the shelf.

I walked through the living room to the kitchen. It was small. There wasn’t even an oven, only a toaster oven on the counter. A small wooden table with two chairs was pushed into the corner. There was a bedroom just through the kitchen and a bathroom off of that. The bathroom had decals of frogs and monkeys on the walls. Mitzy followed me for about ten seconds before deciding I was boring and settling down to sleep in the middle of the queen-sized bed.

I was on my way back to the door when a framed drawing hanging on the wall caught my eye. As I looked closer, a lump formed in the back of my throat. It was a picture I had drawn for her when I was eight. It was me and Aunt Erma standing in the middle of a giant blueberry pie. Or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. I squinted at the mess of jagged marker lines. I had presented it to her on her birthday, and she had fawned over it in the way only a loving aunt could, but a few months later she left and I never saw her again. I shook my head a little and turned to go back downstairs.

I opened one fridge door. It was packed full of butter, cream, apples, cherries, and blueberries. When I opened the door of the other fridge, I found shelves full of pies. I pulled them out, sixteen in total. Each pie had a yellow sticky note on top that said what kind it was and gave baking directions. I preheated three of the wall ovens at different temperatures to bake the four apple, four blueberry, and four cherry pies. There were four mocha cream pies that didn’t require baking.

Once I put all the pies in the ovens to bake, delicious smells filled the whole shop. My mouth watered. I checked the timers every few minutes, the excitement building. I was going to get to eat Aunt Erma’s pies again. I felt guilty for wishing that no customers would come today so I could eat all of them myself.

I dragged myself away from watching the pies bake to look for a recipe book so I could start planning for tomorrow. I started with the desk. The top drawer had jars full of pens, pencils, scissors, paper clips, rubber bands, and twist ties. The next drawer down had a stack of paper. I pulled the whole stack out and flipped through it, but every page was blank except for one that was in the middle. That piece of paper had a list of names on it. Maybe a guestlist for a party. I tossed it back on top of the pile, and then opened the bottom drawer. It had file folders with the top tabs labeled ‘receipts’ and ‘bank statements.’ None of them were labeled ‘recipes.’ I grabbed a sheet of paper that was crammed at the back of the drawer and hoped it would have a recipe or two printed on it. I unfolded it. It was a map. Hocus Hills was circled on the map, and Aunt Erma had drawn little stars with dates next to the names of surrounding communities. The dates were all within the last few months. Knowing Aunt Erma, she was probably keeping track of some butterfly migration patterns. I put it back in the bottom drawer and moved on to the rest of the kitchen. I opened up every single cupboard, but there was nothing – not even a recipe card.

Just like when I was a kid, I closed my eyes and wished Aunt Erma would come back. I was just getting ready to go upstairs and check the apartment for recipes when the timer beeped, letting me know it was time to take the first set of pies out. After a frantic search, I found oven mitts in a drawer to the left of the ovens. The mitts had cow faces on them and mooed every time I grabbed a pie.

Once all the pies were cooled and cut, I lined them up in the display case and wrote the different flavors on the chalkboard out front. I took one slice from each kind of pie and stashed them in the kitchen. If I was going to bake tomorrow, I had to have something to study I reasoned.