Beatrice Bakes, in 13-Not-So-Easy-Steps
Corvus Review/Spring/Summer 2023
1. Beatrice joins a gym.
Beatrice can’t remember when she first stopped wanting to get up in the morning, when every day felt slow moving and pointless, when the sun started hurting her eyes. The therapist says Beatrice needs endorphins, STAT.
2. Beatrice notes hypocrisy.
The gym juice bar sells nuts, dried fruit, and smoothies but also full-fat double chocolate muffins. Beatrice googles lite muffin recipes, stops at the grocery store on the way home, begins testing. She works all night, whisks egg whites with apple sauce into foamy lather. She brings the best batch to the gym. They’re a hit.
3. Beatrice sells.
Beatrice completes her day job quickly. Her muffins crest, crisp at their edges. She loads her car with boxes, delivers to gyms and cafes before dawn. She smiles more, her steps quicken. She relishes the orange sky at sunrise.
4. Beatrice quits things.
Both her boyfriend (Doug) and Beatrice’s engineering job loom, cast shadows, threaten her bourgeoning light.
5. Beatrice meets Larry, a café customer, on one of her deliveries. “Wow, you’re something else,” he says.
He’s bald, rotund, a freelance computer programmer.
“I work when I want, charge by the hour, then I can travel, take breaks whenever,” he says. “You’re smart not to let yourself get tied down. I just got out of that.”
“We’ll make a good team,” he says, winking.
Beatrice floats from the café feeling strong, graceful, beautiful.
6. Beatrice locks it down.
The day Beatrice buys the bakery space, Larry proposes on a hot air balloon over a wide Pennsylvania field. The ring is from a gumball machine. She laughs and kisses him. Larry does not believe in material things. Larry believes in experiences.
Beatrice calls her parents in Vermont.
“We haven’t met him,” says Dad.
“It seems like a lot of change,” says Mom.
“Trust me. I’m over the moon,” Beatrice tells them.
7. Beatrice returns to Earth.
Larry yells at their neighbors. Larry disappears for the entire night. Larry adopts an Irish wolf hound and insists it must stay in the bakery, for protection. Larry installs cameras inside the bakery, even though only he and Beatrice work there. Larry tells Beatrice’s parents not to call.
8. Beatrice works double time.
Beatrice pulls her back muscle while dragging a bag of flour up the basement stairs in the bakery while Larry sits playing computer games. Beatrice finds it hard to breathe, leaves for home early, does not fill her orders that day, or the next.
9. Beatrice needs help.
Beatrice does not tell Larry about the ad she places in the local newspaper. A young woman named Selma calls, says she has no experience baking, but is writing a novel about a bakery. Beatrice hires her sight unseen.
Selma’s clear face and quick smile brighten the dingy space.
Larry says, “Who the hell is this?”
Larry informs Selma she is under surveillance; all the cameras are watching. He storms out, jumps on his bike. (Larry has a head injury and cannot drive.) The dog growls from its crate.
10. Beatrice breaks.
Beatrice cries while she measures, when she pours, when she whisks and mixes, when she spoons batter into the tins. She cries at the beginning of the day and at the end. She cries as she drives home and to deliveries. She longs to cry to her parents, her mother, but she cannot. She is stuck again.
11. Beatrice achieves clarity.
One day, when Selma is washing out the batter buckets, she suddenly asks Beatrice if Larry is helping or hindering. Beatrice knows there is only one answer, just one word, that second word, the latter one: hindering.
12. Beatrice burns.
Beatrice receives a call from the police. She stumbles through the mess of Larry’s thrift store finds still cluttering her space, out of her apartment. She stands before the bakery. Smoke occludes, flames leap. Beatrice glows in fearful fascination. A fireman yells at her, “Step away. This isn’t safe.”
13. Beatrice bakes.
The fire out, Beatrice returns home, assembles a fresh batch of lighter-than-lite muffins. She piles Larry’s stuff on the sidewalk, ambles to the gym. Afterwards, she calls her parents, tells them about the flames, the ash. She sits for a time in silence, enjoys the sun streaming across the scratched floor. A strong breeze blows through the windows. It rustles the curtains, shifts papers on the desk, lifts Beatrice’s hair from her face.
