Breaking Bread

Monday

Monday

Monday morning was no different from any other Monday or any other morning.

It’s probably the result of that subconscious obsession with new beginnings, Mel thought as she rolled over to her side and looked at the clock on her bedside table. Life wasn’t going to magically change for the better just because there was a new date on the calendar and in the grand scheme of things, Monday wasn’t that much different from Friday. The clock read 6:20 and she reached for her phone to turn off the upcoming alarm. It was going to ring in ten minutes anyway and there was no reason for her to feel giddy with anticipation just because a new week was just about to start.

Mel didn’t have to be at the bakery until eight to relieve Angela from her night shift. The bakery would undoubtedly be filled with drunk teenagers and shady middle-aged guys awkwardly trying to start a conversation to stave off their loneliness, but she liked to take her time in getting ready. She put the kettle on and went into the bathroom, critically looking at her reflection in the mirror. There was a pimple growing on her chin, almost glowing red on the pale skin and it responded with a twinge of pain to her touching it and her eyes felt dry and irritated; there was no way she could go through her shift in contacts today. She tugged sceptically at a black strand of hair that fell out of her bun when the kettle turned off with a whistle, demanding her attention. If she put her hair up in a ponytail, she could get away with not washing it for another day.

After cereal and coffee and one too many cookies, Mel went around the flat for something she referred to as “the inspection”. It made her feel like she was going on a secret undercover mission, full of hidden dangers and gunfights and even an occasional epic backflip, instead of just checking on her plants. Georgy, a mighty ficus in the kitchen corner, reminded Mel of a grumpy old man with his ever-changing watering schedule. She long gave up on trying to fix his slightly disgusting pollinating habits. She imagined him scoffing at her as she craned her neck to look at the wilting leaves at the top: he’d probably tell her to stop fussing around and get him another glass of water, signalling that he went dry way ahead of schedule again.

Georgy’s leaves didn’t look worse than yesterday, so Mel moved on to Marina. A sweet pink begonia lounging on the windowsill in the lounge, she was always the first one to greet the rising sun. For a begonia, Marina was surprisingly undemanding, not asking for much and seemingly content with just enjoying the sunshine. Marina went on a leaf-losing tantrum only once, when Mel went away for a week and left her neighbour in charge of the inspection. Next to Marina stood Geoffrey the cactus, a tiny emotional creature in a colourful pot that had a habit of threatening suicide if as much as a drop of water touched his soil and after a few attempts to convince him that she wasn’t trying to poison him, Mel had to give up and just let him live his weird waterless life.

Simon the snake plant found his home right next to the wardrobe in her bedroom just when Mel was ready to accept defeat; he seemed to hate every corner of her flat and was quick to demonstrate it in rapidly yellowing leaves and an overall droopy appearance. Mel put him in the darkest corner of her room in the last desperate attempt to get anything but a negative reaction from him and he finally seemed happy with life, breaking her every belief about all plants needing at least a little bit of sunshine to survive. Her last stop was a majesty palm near the door to the balcony that started dying immediately if the conditions weren’t one hundred per cent perfect and overall had such a regal and conceited vibe that Mel felt only a little bit bad about naming her Elizabeth and making a mocking bow every time she passed by her. Elizabeth seemed to be in a fine mood today, so Mel left her to gaze at herself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom and closed the door. Plants were supposed to be less troublesome than pets, but her little garden of chaos didn’t agree with that.

Locking the door to her flat, Mel still felt that strange excitement bubbling in her chest, something that she usually associated with leaving for the last exam: nervousness mixed with anticipation of the worst finally being over. It didn’t make sense now when she was twenty-eight years old and six years out of university. Now the most anxiety-inducing thing on her list was remembering the birthdays of everyone working in the bakery and planning the Christmas party every year, but as she quickly ran through the dates in her mind, this Monday didn’t look like anything special. Maybe she became one of those people who were way into their jobs and it was the anticipation of watching fresh batches of cookies slide out of the oven that gave her the mysterious tingles. Mel shook her head at herself and put the keys into her backpack. Maybe she should take Angela’s suggestion and finally go on that vacation.

At five to eight Mel left her car at the parking spot tagged staff and went into the bakery, faintly noting that the sign above was still flashing Bread & Crumbs in soft yellow lights from the night. As she suspected, Angela was sitting at the counter yawning at her phone and jerked violently once she heard the gentle sound of the wind chime at the door, scrambling to appear professional and not at all sleepy-looking.

“Morning, Angela,” Mel said, not trying to hide the amusement in her voice.

Angela’s shoulders slumped in relief and she fell back to the chair, exhaling deeply. “Oh, it’s you, Miss Haden.” She was just a few years younger than Mel but refused to call her by her first name as everyone else did. At first, Mel tried telling her that they were all a family here and there was no need for textbook formalities, cringing at how corporate her words sounded, but Angela could be very stubborn when she wanted to and eventually Mel had to accept defeat. “I wasn’t quite ready for the early birds to start pouring in.”

“I ought to tell you off for having your phone out at work.”

“But you’re not going to,” Angela pointed out. Her whole “respecting your superiors” spiel that she gave Mel as the reason for addressing her as a schoolteacher didn’t really translate to all areas of her work ethic. “Plus, my shift has just ended, so if anything, I should receive a bonus for staying overtime.”

Mel chuckled. With her bright green eyes, long messy braids and a slight musical twang in her speech, Angela could be almost irresistibly charming and Mel was sure that she used that power to get away with things more than once. Fortunately, it was also a quality that made her exceptionally good with customers. Angela listening intently to their stories and laughing brightly at their jokes resulted in the bakery having so many patrons that Mel found herself letting certain minor things slide, fully aware that if that were anyone else, they’d get a couple of stern words thrown their way. “We’ll see about that. Boring night, huh?”

“You can’t even imagine,” Angela groaned. “The only person who came was that awful Mister Ed at three in the morning and even he spent about ten minutes hiding behind the slushie machine when he saw me at the counter, like I wasn’t going to notice.”

“He’s not awful,” Mel said, but mostly out of duty. “He’s got his psoriasis under control now and his stories about how he found the right treatment are… enlightening.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Miss Haden. He’s no idea of personal space and him awkwardly hitting on me is especially inconvenient now that I’m trying to get my hands on his son. I might even mention it next time he tries to buy a cupcake and give it to me as a parting gift.”

Mel sighed. Night shifts always meant a fair share of creeps and them living in a small town where seemingly everyone knew each other didn’t stop that from happening. “I’ll talk to Helen. Wasting my cupcakes is one thing, making my employees feel weird is another.”

Angela shrugged, getting up from her chair and stretching her arms above her head until something cracked.

“Don’t worry, Miss Haden. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Her phone lit up with a notification; she quickly scanned it with her eyes and shoved it in the back pocket of her jeans. “Anyway. If I leave right now, I still can have a glorious three-hour nap before my class. Student life, am I right?”

Mel laughed. “Student life.” Angela already told her not to take into account that she was a student when making schedules for the week, but she still felt guilty giving her night shifts knowing she had classes the next day. Again, this was one of the arguments where Angela chose to be stubborn.

“I’m off, then. See you tomorrow!” Angela saluted her with two fingers and headed for the door, flipping the switch to turn off the lights on Bread & Crumbs on her way. Mel waved, receiving a smile back and watched her search for headphones in her bag before she disappeared behind the corner. She then turned her attention to the bakery.

Whatever that giddy feeling was, it still hadn’t disappeared. It didn’t go anywhere after Mel finished sweeping the floors either, only pausing to get two loaves of bread and a carton of eggs for Eve, a middle-aged kindergarten teacher that called everyone “darling” and was always running late somewhere. Stephen came at quarter to nine to get the ancient coffee machine up and running and flashed a toothy smile her way before putting on a black apron and tying it around his waist in quick, practised movements. He smiled like that at everyone and would flirt even with Mister Ed just to see him blush and stutter around his bagel. It’s not like Mel had to spend her Monday mornings giddy with something that made her want to jump out of her skin.

“Do you ever get a feeling that something’s about to happen, even though you know that nothing will?” she asked Stephen when the morning rush had died down. The wind chime tinkled, announcing that Phoebe, the pharmacist’s wife, had left the bakery with a bottle of milk and a baguette under each arm and Stephen turned to her, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“Is that your way of finally confessing your feelings after all these years?”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Yes. You saw right through my plan. Now take me in your arms and carry me away Prince Charming-style, I’m sure your fiancé will be thrilled.”

“You know us, we don’t take our engagement too seriously,” Stephen laughed. “Only have been planning the wedding for the last six months trying to get every detail perfect for the ultimate celebration of our love after dating for seven years, but you know. I’m often told that I could be more impulsive, so I’m sure Taylor would understand.”

Mel sent him an incredulous look.

“Your whole life is one giant impulsive decision, Stephen. If I woke up tomorrow and found out that you two tied the knot without telling anyone and ran away to travel the world on skateboards, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Stephen raised his hands as if saying you got me there. “If anything, Taylor’s the only person keeping you in check, otherwise you’d be wreaking havoc everywhere you go.”

“What can I say, I’m a lucky guy,” Stephen smiled again, all white teeth and dimples. “But you still don’t get to ask me for advice and insult me in the same conversation.”

“Your fault for allowing it to get to that point,” Mel said, sticking her tongue out at him. “Seriously, do you? I’ve been feeling on edge since half six today.”

Stephen scratched his chin thoughtfully, sliding his fingers through his bristle ginger beard.

“On Christmas Eve, maybe. Nothing will ever convince me that I shouldn’t wait for Santa to come down the chimney at midnight, even though I’m perfectly aware that it’s never going to happen.”

“Don’t tell me you wait with milk and cookies, too.”

“I can tell that you don’t, you Grinch.” Stephen poked her in the ribs. “Brains are strange things, Mel, and sometimes even they don’t know why they make you feel a certain way. And yours is a particularly strange one, so don’t even think about it.”

Stephen was no stranger to acting a fool and famously could get on anybody’s nerves in a matter of minutes, but he had a way of saying comforting things to actually make them sound helpful instead of just saying the words for the sake of saying them. There was a reason why Mel brought it up at all. The annoyance had already started creeping up on her, pulsating with faint pain in her temples, but Stephen’s words made it fade to the background, making her think that it probably really wasn’t a thing to get so worked up about. If she were here with Angela or Vanessa, another diamond in the rough she’d found while weeding through emails like “I want to work in the bakery because I like cookies” when she had just come into the possession of the bakery, she wouldn’t even think about mentioning it.

“Thanks,” she nudged him with her elbow. “Although I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows, not even trying to suppress his smile. “What if it wasn’t?”

“Then you should thank your lucky stars that you’re an invaluable member of the staff and I actually like you, or I’d be enraged.”

Stephen clutched his chest with an overly shocked expression on his face.

“She confesses! Should I tell Taylor the wedding’s off?”

“If you must,” Mel laughed. “Only after you make a cappuccino for Eve who’s hobbling here for her lunch break with the speed of a thousand snails.”

The wind chime tinkled as Eve was already making her way through the bakery, looking determined not to waste a second of her precious half an hour break, so Stephen just winked at her, putting his best customer service face on. The anticipation of something that Mel couldn’t put her finger on was still sitting deep in her stomach, making her jerk from the slightest movement. Right now it was easy to believe that it was just a weird whimsical idea of her mind, so Mel swept the invisible crumbs off the counter and went to the staff room to have her lunch.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Only one batch of cookies turned out to have raisins instead of chocolate chunks. This particular thing happened so often that Mel long gave up on trying to figure out who was responsible and why it kept happening and it was a no-brainer to put them on the plate near the cash register and slap a sticker on them saying Enjoy! Stephen took it upon himself to draw a raisin on the sticker and got extremely offended when Mel pointed out that it looked nothing like the real thing, telling her that it was abstract art and that she needed to open her tiny mind. When Mel came out of the staff room where she spent three exciting hours trying to respond to all her emails from the weekend without letting the new ones pile up, it was already a bit past six and almost all the cookies were gone.

“Hey, Mel,” came a voice from behind the muffin stand.

“Hey, Vanessa,” Mel responded, not even looking up from her backpack where she was trying to locate her car keys. “Ready for tonight?”

“Ah yes, Monday night at the bakery.” Vanessa appeared from behind the muffin stand, smoothing down her apron with her manicured hands. Her hair was in a low ponytail with a red streak running through it and a black lace choker was hugging her neck. “This is as crazy as it gets. When I left my bartending job, no one prepared me for the insanity that is a night shift at Bread & Crumbs.”

“Well, if you ask me, it’s the best hang out spot in town,” Mel protested, smiling.

“Sure, it is, Mel. Be sure to come in early tomorrow to catch me telling wild stories about stoned Al forgetting how sliding doors work and Mister Ed being overwhelmed by the whole of two choices in the slushie machine. It’ll be weeks before you hear anything as riveting again.”

“I’ll be there front and centre,” Mel promised. “Joe’s in tonight, right?”

Vanessa looked at her watch. “He’ll be here in a couple of hours. The only thing I’d worry about is him drinking too much coffee and being unable to sit still, which is kind of the whole point of the night shift. Other than that, he’ll do fine. You’ve already seen him handle money and not be tempted to put some in his pocket.”

“I trust you to watch his caffeine intake.” Mel finally fished her keys out of the backpack and headed for the door. “Bye, Stephen!”

“Goodbye, darling!” Stephen cheerily waved at her, dropping the broom in the process. “I’ll let you know how Taylor takes the news about the cancelled wedding.”

“I can’t wait,” Mel rolled her eyes, smiling and went through the readily opening doors, calling over her shoulder, “be good, everyone!”

With a synchronized “yes, mum” fading out behind her, she unlocked the car, putting her backpack on the passenger seat and sliding her phone into the cup holder. As the car started with a low whir, she exhaled, only just realizing how much tension there was in her body. That weird feeling still made her want to fidget in her seat and the whole day had been a conscious effort not to bounce her leg every time she sat down. It still made no sense. Work was about just as uneventful as she could hope for it to be, even Helen, Mister Ed’s wife, didn’t come to report on every piece of gossip she heard while sitting on her porch. Tomorrow was shaping out to be just as bland; maybe a few of those pending emails that Mel didn’t manage to answer would make things a little spicy. Yet the feeling kept telling her to prepare for something so grandiose, so wild and unheard of that she half expected her plants to greet her at the apartment door, finally having taken the human form she so often imagined them in.

Obviously, that didn’t happen and Mel pressed her lips together in annoyance, reaching into the fridge to get the leftover risotto from yesterday. Georgy stood in his corner, silent in his judgment and Elizabeth rustled her leaves disapprovingly as she passed by to open the balcony door.

“Oh, shut up,” Mel muttered. “What do you guys know? You’re plants. You don’t have brains telling you to get ready for the biggest day of your life you didn’t know you had.”

True to their nature, the plants remained silent; even Geoffrey the cactus held on to whatever snarky remark he was always ready to make. Mel sighed and rubbed her temples. Maybe it was her body’s way of telling her to wake up at the crack of dawn and take up jogging and finally commit to her New Year’s resolution. Maybe she needed to join a gym and let her vision get blurry with sweat, jumping on a box or juggling dumbbells or whatever it is they do at the gym. Or maybe she just needed a drink.

After a glass of wine, the fatigue of being anxious all day finally started catching up with her and Mel crawled into bed, lazily flipping through the pages of some murder mystery before deciding that tonight just was not the night. She scrolled through her social media mostly out of habit, absentmindedly liking every cat picture she came across, checked if her alarm was set and closed her eyes. The feeling seemed to have finally subsided, leaving a strange emptiness in its wake.

“I told you nothing was going to happen,” Mel murmured into the darkness of the room. The feeling, very much a sentient being at this point, seemed to have accepted defeat and disappeared.