Chapter Text
Preheat oven to 375° F
El Paso had been exactly what Chris was looking for. He didn’t have to worry about his dad bringing home women who looked like his mother, or women at all for that matter. He also didn’t have to worry about his dad not coming home, or Buck not showing up for their weekly dinner. Or having to attend any more funerals. This, of course, did not mean he wasn’t worrying, it just meant he could pretend he didn’t.
There were days it was easier to pretend than others. The pool club his grandparents had found him was a good distraction. There were some cool kids his age there that seemed pretty fun to hang out with. He missed his LA friends of course but his grandparents still let him have an evening a week of online gaming time to keep in touch. They kept asking when he was going to come home, he kept not knowing what to tell them.
He had been mad at his dad when he decided to call his grandparents, decided to get in the car with them, and decided to walk onto the plane. He wasn’t really sure when the anger dissipated but it had. Now he just felt- empty. He missed his mom. He missed his dad. He missed - well he missed a lot of things that he didn’t know how to put words to. Of course he wasn’t ready to admit that yet so he let it stew.
Christopher liked his grandparents well enough. His grandpa was a little stuffy sometimes but seemed to be loosening up. His grandmother seemed nervous all the time. Like there was always something to do or somewhere to be. He wished she would take a breath and relax. What she needed, he had decided pretty quickly, was to be more like Carla.
It had been about two weeks of living in their house when he went looking for the pictures. It had started because he wanted to see a picture of his dad as a baby. He’d seen a trend online of comparing yourself to pictures of your parents and he realized he’d never really seen a baby picture of his dad. He was sad to learn there weren’t too many on hand. He dug through all the albums and boxes his grandma pointed out to him but the first few years of his dad’s life were relatively undocumented. A few sparse pictures relegated to a shoebox at the bottom of the photo album shelf. That made him feel a different kind of way that he certainly was not ready to deal with so he moved on.
Then there were the pictures of his aunts’ childhood and there were many. Adriana’s photo album was a baby pink with bows around the edges full of dance recitals and poofy dresses. Sophia’s was purple with little gems and also featured dance recitals but it appeared she had dabbled in sports as well. His dad featured heavily in these photographs. He was often in the background either wrangling one of his sisters, braiding hair, or carrying them or their equipment as they posed. Chris realized that just made the feeling he was trying to ignore grow and moved on. Then there was the third album, it was a baby blue photo album with a little picture window. The picture window held what appeared to be an ultrasound photograph and Chris instantly knew it was his.
He hadn’t been sure exactly what he thought he would see on the first page. Adriana and Sophia’s had been pictures of the day of their birth, in the arms of their parents. Christopher’s first page were pictures of some day around the time of his birth in the arms of his - grandparents? That felt weird. It took him four pages to find a picture of his mom, another two for a picture of his dad with him. The feeling bubbled up again and he pushed it back down. He was mad at his mom for leaving. He was mad at his dad for lying. This was fair. He knew it wasn’t.
As he flipped through he searched his memory for something from these early days. He was only 13, there should be something from his childhood. His eyes caught on a picture, him and his mom in their tiny kitchen in El Paso. She was smiling at him as he sat on the counter, he was facing away from the camera. He wondered who had taken the picture. He wondered how old he was -
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
¾ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
“People are going to tell you that their family has a super secret recipe that is better than the bag.” Shannon’s voice drifted through his mind and he smiled at her as she cracked an egg into the bowl in front of him. “Do not believe them. That’s just crap people say to make people feel bad. Chocolate chip cookies are chocolate chip cookies. You don’t need anything fancy.” There was music playing softly in the background, it was early afternoon he thought, warm from the preheating oven. His mother danced absentmindedly as she mixed in the first egg.
She grabbed another egg and held it out for him. “Here-” She let him take the egg in one hand and very carefully guided it towards the edge of the bowl. “To crack an egg you want to hit it but not too hard. You want to give it a try?”
He smiled. She didn’t let him help in the kitchen very often but it was a good day and she was in a good mood. He wrapped his hand around the egg and pulled back but knew immediately it was going to come down too fast. He looked at her, eyes wide, and braced himself for impact.
“Woah, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She wrapped her hand around his, slowing the momentum. “Try it like this.” She very lightly brought the egg and his hand to the edge of the bowl and tapped. He heard a small crack. “Do that one more time.” She let go.
His skin felt cold without her hand around it but he knew she was trusting him with this and that mattered. He lifted his hand, focusing all he could on being gentle but firm and brought the egg down. It cracked and he watched as the whites and the yolk and about half of the shell fell into the bowl. “Oops.” He said quietly.
He looked at his mom worried she was going to be mad and instead she laughed. “Well, you got it in the bowl and that’s half the battle.” He watched as she picked out the pieces of shell and started mixing everything together. She continued her absentminded dancing, a soft smile on her lips. Chris wasn’t sure if it was real but he could have sworn she was glowing.
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
Chris pulled the photo out of the album and snuck it into his pocket, he knew his grandparents wouldn’t miss it and he felt like it was something to be treasured.
“Christopher.” Helena’s voice was soft as it called through the house. “It’s time to get washed up before dinner. Your abuelo will be-” Her voice cut off as she entered the den where the photo albums lay all around him. “When I said you could look at the albums I meant you could glance through them, not throw them around the room like some animal.” She muttered as she began picking them up and putting them back on the shelf.
“Sorry abuela.” He managed before moving to help her.
“It’s fine, you just need to be careful. These are precious memories, I just wouldn’t want to see them ruined.”
“I was being careful.”
She didn’t respond to that, just huffed a little more as she pushed his dad’s sad shoebox of memories back in its place at the bottom. “It’s fine. What are you still doing here, go get ready for dinner.”
He didn’t argue, didn’t say anything really. Just got to his feet and went back to his room. Once he knew the door was shut he extracted his treasure and placed it on his bedside table.
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
2 cups (12-oz pkg) Nestle Toll House Semi-Sweet Chocolate Morsels
1 cup chopped nuts (optional)
“Helpers get the first try.” Shannon said, holding out the spatula towards him.
“It’s not cooked!” He screeched, pulling away.
“The dough is the best part. Your father never used to like it either but trust me. Take a bite.” He leaned forward and let a small amount of the gooey dough into his mouth. It had the consistency of playdoh and the flavor of something so much better. He didn’t understand how all of the things she’d mixed together could taste this good. He was pretty sure that his mom was magic now.
She smiled at him. “I told you so.”
Somewhere behind them, too faint to hear, a camera went off.
Drop by rounded tablespoon onto ungreased baking sheets.
Christopher positioned the photograph perfectly and took a picture on his phone. He contemplated sending it directly to his dad but they hadn’t been talking casually and it felt weird to open the conversation with a picture of his mom when the dead mom in question had been the reason he’d left. Instead he thought better of it and sent it to Buck.
Don’t make this weird
Can you ask my dad if he took this picture
But… again don’t make it weird.
🦌🦌🦌
Sure thing, kiddo!
He said yes.
Says he forgot about that
Was back in town on leave
Cookies were his welcome home present
The reply came in seconds which meant either they were on shift together or hanging out together. Both were equally plausible and also meant that neither of them were gravely injured or dead. A win was a win.
K, thanks
🦌🦌🦌
No problem!
How’s Texas?
I mean, if you want to talk about it.
Hot.
He knew the one word answer would drive Buck crazy but he also knew it would drive his dad crazier and that was his real target. He’d apologize to Buck later. He put his phone on the charger and headed towards the bathroom to wash up. His grandparents were pretty cool about him having his phone but having it even near the dinner table was some kind of crime he had learned from day one of living in El Paso. He glanced back at the photo leaning against the lamp on his nightstand.
He couldn’t see his face but he knew that he was smiling. A new feeling- no - an ache bubbled up within him. He missed her so much.