Felicity:She is going toLovethis!! I can’t believe you did that!
Fern:It’s nothing. I mean, it was so cheap. It was like fifty bucks, so I feel bad taking all the credit, lol!
Jenna:Nonsense! You should definitely take all the credit, you deserve it! And so what if it’s fifty bucks now? I just googled it and the original price is one thousand and two hundred dollars. That’s insane. You did well, friend! I’m so proud of you
Tears actually fill my eyes at this. I can’t remember the last time someone told me they’re proud of me. Oh wait, I can, actually. It was Aliyah, during our last session. She said to me, “Fern, you’ve come such a long way from the girl who walked in here a year ago. I’m so proud of all the work you’ve done to become the person you are today.” That was about six years ago. I reread Jenna’s message and memorize every word. I know I will remember this moment until I’m old and senile and I’ve forgotten everything else, including my own name, but I will still remember the moment my friend told me she’s proud of me.
Fern:Thank you so much you guys. I couldn’t have done this without all of your help. I’m going to bake some goodies for Haven as well and then tomorrow morning I will deliver everything to her house. I’m so excited for her to finally get this hamper!
Felicity:Ahh! I can’t wait for her to get it! She’s going toFlip Out!
Yuna:You’re going to hand-deliver it to her? How do you know where she lives?
The joy that’s been dancing in my chest stutters to a standstill, but only for a moment. I quickly recover.
Fern:I do, yes. We actually went to the same high school and it’s not a big school so everyone kind of knew each other.
Yuna:Oh right! I forgot that you guys went to the same high school. That’s soWild!
I wish I could tell them all what it was really like going to the same high school as Haven, but it’s not like I could say: Actually, she was my high school bully, lol!
Fern:We were never close, but everyone knew Haven back at school. Anyway, her house isn’t too far away from mine and I don’t really want to go to the post office right now because pandemic etc, so yeah, I’ll just drop it off tomorrow morning. It’s not a big deal at all!
Jenna:You are anAngel
Felicity:Agreed!
Everyone else quickly chimes in, telling me how good I am and how lucky Haven is to have me as a friend. If I said I didn’t enjoy all this attention, I would be lying. But of course part of me writhes with guilt. I don’t have to be reminded that the whole reason I’m doing all this is to atone for my sins. But then I remind myself that the trouble is over now.
In the end, Haven and her parents only had to stay at that guesthouse for two days before their cables were fixed. And here, once more, it was her Instagram following that came to her rescue. There’d been aone-month-long wait list for an electrician, and she had despaired to her followers. Then one of them DMed her and told her that her brother’s friend was an electrician and he was willing to drive all the way from Azusa to San Marino to try to fix it for her. He did so, and apparently refused any forms of financial compensation, merely telling Haven “I’ve been feeling so trapped and useless this entire pandemic. I’m happy I finally have the chance to help someone.” And that is how, a mere two days after I ripped out Haven’s electric cables, Haven and her parents were back home, safe and sound.
Thank god. I really couldn’t have lived with myself had it taken any longer. I hadn’t meant for it to cause them so much trouble, and I’m relieved that it’s now fixed. And yet ... A secret feeling worms its way deep in my guts. More envy that once again, Haven has managed to glide over the potholes of life. She needed a place to stay, and boom, one fell right into her lap. She needed an electrician, and once again, it simply fell like a ripe apple, warm and sweet, into her palm. As soon as this feeling crawls into existence, I squash it, feeling its insides squirt out as I flatten it ruthlessly. I can’t afford to allow myself the luxury of envy. Look what happened the last time I did. No, I am determined to be good from now on. There is room only for clean thoughts in my head.
I spend the rest of the day baking up a storm. Doughlores happily devotes parts of herself to my creations, and I take pleasure in using her because I know that sourdough is especially good for diabetics. This is as much for Mr. Lee as it is for Haven. I bake whole-grain sourdough loaves, sourdough muffins sweetened with agave, sourdough bagels, and even sourdough cinnamon rolls. By the time I’m done, my back is stiff, and my legs are threatening to give out under me.
“Oh my,” Dad says, “this is a lot of bread. How are we going to finish it all before it goes bad?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. This is for Haven and her parents.”
“Oh,” Dad says, eyebrows raised with apparent surprise. I don’t expect him to ask me anything else, but then he says, “Haven Lee? From school?”
“Yep.” I put my head down and focus my gaze on the bagels, which I’m putting away into pretty cardboard containers I’d bought for this very purpose.
“Are things well?”
“Yeah. She’s just gone through a bit of an ordeal, that’s all. I told you about the blackout, right?”
“Of course. And you are baking all this to make her feel better,” he says.
I’m not sure if that was said as a question or a statement, so I don’t say anything.
“Can I have one?” he says.
“Yes, of course.” I pick out a blueberry bagel and hand it to him.
He studies it carefully, holding it close enough to his face that his eyes cross a little bit.
“Dad, you are being so weird.” I laugh.
