#FlashFictionMagic: Feast or Famine

 

Pacing up and down the kitchen, Nelson keeps glancing between the timer and the stove clock, wishing for one to speed up and the other to slow down. Why did he start so late? Why does he even think they need an apple pie? Sadie's huge family probably has several bakers whose crusts don’t have gaping holes in their centers. He's wasting his time.

On the bus ride, the foil covering Nelson’s disastrous dessert is torn when his thumb slips. The heat escapes along with the cinnamon-apple scent of the filling, drawing hungry glances from the other riders. He considers sharing the pie with them and going right back home. Maybe Sadie's dinner invitation was offered out of pity. Maybe he and his ugly dessert will be turned away at the door.

When he disembarks a few doors down from Sadie's brownstone, he tries to walk slowly so he can decide what to say when he arrives. Thinking of Sadie's long curly hair and sparkling brown eyes behind her red-rimmed glasses quickens his step anyway. On the stoop, finger pressed to the doorbell, he prays his humiliation will be swift and witnessed by few.

When the door opens, Nelson's tongue ties at the sight of Sadie in a blue floral dress, and he thrusts the dish forward. “Pie happy. Thanksgiving for you.” He winces, his face burning, and braces himself for her polite brush-off.

“You made this?” she says, smiling. “That's amazing!” She turns to the group of relatives seated behind her in the living room and says, “Nelson made a pie, you guys!”

A couple of men salute with their glasses, and Nelson nods uncomfortably. “It got cold on the way over,” he says softly to Sadie.

“Well, then we'll heat it up,” she says simply, taking his arm. “Come on in.”

Sadie smiles up at him, and Nelson can't help but grin in return. In her eyes he sees joy, and beauty, and promise, but not a single thing resembling pity. As they move down the hall, the door closes behind Nelson, shutting out the chill and sealing in the warmth of Sadie's welcome.