“Raw eggs too?”
I bite my lip. “I didn’t say I followed the recipe exactly. I forgot the eggs. Somehow. Anyway, from that day on, I’d make a batch of cookie dough to nibble on while I studied. I started keeping track and rating my attempts, which morphed into me actually making cookies. Let’s just say, I know how to operate an oven now. The stovetop, not so much.”
“My mother used to make delicious gingersnaps.”
“Do you have the recipe?”
“I sure do. Now that I know how to turn this thing on, let’s exchange email addresses and I’ll send it to you.” Goodie jiggles her phone.
“I’d love that. Thank you. The thing about the Cookie Dough Diary is that it doesn’t just contain edible cookie dough recipes, though I do record my favorites so I have plenty to draw from when I someday become a mom. So far, I’ve perfected chocolate chip, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, sugar cookies, and my favorite deluxe double-chip cookies—the secret ingredients? Chocolate chips and potato chips.”
Goodie arches an eyebrow.
“Don’t knock it until you try it. Pro tip: you have to use the wavy potato chips.”
“Chocolate and chips are two of my favorite things. Never thought to put them together.”
“You’ll thank me later. Also, grateful for the happy accident with the original batch of cookie dough and the diary it prompted me to start, every day I write down three things I’m thankful for.” I draw in my diary too, but don’t show anyone my sketches.
“And today’s entry?” Goodie asks.
My shoulders bunch up. “Well, I’d have to say, meeting you. Despite…” I discreetly point to Manimal, who would be catching flies if there were any on the plane, “This flight has turned out pretty great so far.”
Manimal rouses, glowers at Goodie, then me, and says, “What does a guy need to do to get some rest around here?”
She and I both suppress laughter.
“Well, I’d better try to get some more shut-eye because when I get to my sister’s, I have a feeling we’ll be gabbing all night.” Goodie smiles warmly and then closes her eyes.
I inhale a deep breath and then take out the Cookie Dough Diary. It’s the ninth one with that title—one for every year since starting it in college.
I gaze out the window at nothing but clouds stretching in every direction. For an instant, my mind feels spacious, open, and free from the recent burdens—the Todd tragedy, the cancer scare and surgery, and losing everything in my life as I knew it.
From my right, athrpppsound rips into my moment of serenity, followed by a foul stench.
He didn’t!?
Yep, he did.
I fight the urge to smash the panel above my head to deploy the oxygen mask. I will not be writing about Manimal passing gas in my diary. Instead, when the air clears, my pencil scratches the paper as I sketch a well-built warrior with a leatheruniform and armor—back in college, I was part of the LARP Club. Like the popular book and movie Fight Club—one of the reading requirements to join—the first rule of LARP Club was you didn’t talk about LARP Club. We also had to go deep into the J.R.R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis catalogs, along with numerous contemporary novels.
Afterward, I’d always draw a scene we acted out as I envisioned it. In this one, I imagine my valiant hero defeating the Manimal of the Underworld.
As I fill in the details, the hero’s features resemble the Viking’s, my fake husband? Non-husband? Husband of convenience? I’m not sure what to call him as I fiddle with the ring on my finger.
To my drawing, I add a sword, imagining severing the ties between us. It’s not because I’m ungrateful, rather, Todd ruined me for marriage. No way will I cozy up and couple down with a guy, at least not anytime soon.
My eyes flutter closed and I dream of the Viking riding into battle atop a powerful steed. A Manimal tries to attack, but he scares it off and then whisks me off my feet and onto his horse. We ride across rocky terrain. A man atop a black stallion appears in the distance. Only, it’s a spider. The Viking challenges him, vowing to fight for my honor. After engaging in battle, the Viking remains standing and Todd, begging for mercy, lies at his feet.
I startle awake, my heart pounding as I remember where I am. I pat myself down, making sure that I wasn’t in Manimal’s space or worse, cuddled up with him. Thankfully, there are several inches between us. However, my cheek is tender from being pressed up against the window.
I try to shake off the dream as Goodie wakes up and our chatter resumes, much to Manimal’s annoyance. We even try to include him, but not even a snooze and a snore refreshed the guy.
Soon, the plane lands with a warm welcome to Concordia from the captain. He describes perfect weather and wishes us a pleasant stay.
I’ve been here once before, during my figure skating years. I recall it being a beautiful and wealthy country, complete with old-world charm and abundant nature, including mountains, beaches, hot springs, and more, along with friendly residents. There are loads of restaurants and my mouth practically waters, anticipating a slice of chocolate cake. I try to remember the name of the bakery or restaurant where I originally got it, but that was about fifteen years ago and the memory faded. I’ll have plenty of time to explore when not working and promise myself a piece of that chocolate cake once I find it.
After getting off the plane, I follow the signs to the luggage carousel. Manimal bumps past me, grabs his suitcase, and carelessly swings it into my legs.
