Yesterwary

“Excuse me, Chef Harper,” Bastian said cheekily from the other side of the window.

Demi looked up from the stove, patches of flour spotting her face. She’d been attempting to branch off into pastries before the restaurant opened for dinner, but it was proving far more difficult than she’d expected. Still, a smile beamed across her face. “How can I help you, Guide One-Four-Three?”

Formalities weren’t at all necessary, but they both found a simple sort of amusement in them.

“I just took a group of newcomers for placement,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I believe these belong to you.”

Demi glanced behind him, eyeing over a dark-haired boy who couldn’t have been more than a few years younger than herself, and a rail-thin, middle-aged woman, who was nervously picking at her nails.

“Great! Thank you,” she squeaked.

Bastian took a couple steps from the window before turning back. “Hey, did you say something to Adrian?”

“What? No. Why?” Demi rambled, staring nervously.

“He wasn’t at Work Placement. He just… didn’t show up. No one seems to know where he is,” he said, not sounding terribly concerned.

“Huh… Yeah, I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head innocently, suddenly very worried that her words had caused a near-stranger to do something terrible.

Bastian left her to introduce her new employees to their jobs. Demi took a break from her floury activities, tried to force Adrian to the back of her mind, and joined the two newcomers in the front room. Cindy and Kelly left their rags on the tables and hurried over, eager to get acquainted with the people who would hopefully make their jobs much easier.

“I’m, well… the owner, I guess,” Demi said, holding out her hand to shake those of the strangers. “You can call me Chef, or Chef Harper, or Demi, or ‘hey you’… I really don’t care. This is Cindy, and her daughter, Kelly. They’ll show you the ropes. If you have any questions, ask them, because I probably won’t know the answer.” Kelly and Cindy enjoyed her joke, but the newcomers stood quietly, fear obviously coursing through them. “What are your names?” Demi continued awkwardly, having expected them to introduce themselves.

“I’m Xander,” the boy offered convincingly.

“Nope,” Demi said, calling his bluff.

“No?” he asked.

“That’s not your name.”

The boy looked down in shame, and, in a small voice, said, “I couldn’t get it to catch on at school, either. I’m Scooter.”

“Oh,” she said, unable to control her nose as it scrunched up on her face. “It’s nice to meet you, Xander. And your name?” she asked the woman.

The woman stared at her for a moment, then glanced from face to face, all of which were watching her expectantly. Without a word, she turned and sprinted from the building.

“I wonder how you pronounce that,” Demi mumbled.

“I’ll go after her,” Kelly sighed, as if she’d done so more than once in the past.

“Thank you,” Demi said, turning back to the boy.

“Wait…” he said, eyes narrowing at her. “Harper?”

Demi looked up, met by the gaze often given when someone is sure they know someone else—not absolutely sure, but mostly sure… like when the waitress is “sure” that the French fries are made in a dedicated deep-fryer, and why do you even care when you’re eating in a restaurant called The Old Chicken? “Yes?”

“You’re not related to M.J. Harper, are you? I mean, you look a lot like the pictures I’ve seen of her,” he said.

Demi’s breath caught in her chest. “How do you know that name?”

“Her book is kind of a big deal, right now. Really sad, what happened, though. Some people think the book only took off because of the situation, but… I don’t know. I really liked it.”

Demi found herself in an odd realm between beaming happiness and violent sobs.

“I’m sor—Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she sniffled. “I didn’t realize they would still release the book after... That’s-that’s great.”

“So… you are related?”

“She is… was… my sister.”

“No shit?!” he said excitedly. “I mean, I’m sorry for your loss. But, no shit?”

Demi nodded and beamed, so overjoyed that people were fond of Margo’s book she could barely speak.

“Oh, man… is she why you’re here?” he asked in a sudden wave of regret for bringing it up.

“No,” she said, standing up straighter and brushing the tears from her cheeks, almost insulted that anyone would blame her sister for such a thing. “I’m here for the exact same reason as you.”

“Because you were so obsessed with Justin Timberlake that you didn’t make any attempt to find love with someone who was actually aware of your existence?” he mused.

“Maybe not the exact same reason,” she retorted. “But the same general reason, as you and pretty much everyone else here. I wasn’t careful with my heart,” she said, leaning back against the window. “We have no one to blame but ourselves.”

“So, this place is really real?” he asked. “This isn’t some sort of sick dream?”

“If it were a dream, do you honestly think the people inside it would tell you so?” Demi asked.

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. For what it’s worth, though… No. Yesterwary is a lot of things, but ‘dream’ isn’t one of them,” she said. “Cindy, you’ll walk him through everything? I have to get back to failing at making cupcakes before we open.”

“You’re the owner of a restaurant, but you can’t make cupcakes?” Xander asked, almost mockingly.

“It’s a long story. But, in short… Yes, that is correct.” She hadn’t realized how ridiculous it sounded until that moment.

“I aced Home Ec, last year. I could help you, if you want,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t care less, but eyes gleaming in a way that suggested he was secretly very excited.

Demi looked to Cindy, who nodded mischievously, which looked exceptionally creepy on such an old woman.

“Okay,” Demi said, leading the boy she’d decided to call Xander into the kitchen, and waving a welcoming arm to the ingredients that were haphazardly strewn about the counter. She memorized the order of which he put everything into the bowl, how long he mixed for, the temperature of the oven, and for how long he left the cupcake pan in to bake. She could have told him before he took a bite from a perfect-looking cupcake that it wasn’t going to taste at all like the cocoa powder and sugar he’d added, but in all honesty, she was a bit of an ass, and really wanted to see his reaction. But his reaction was far from anything she’d been expecting.

Xander bit into one of the warm cupcakes and nodded with approval, before handing her a piece. Demi swiped the cake from his hand and gave it a sniff, then popped a piece into her mouth. It tasted like sweet, chocolatey amazingness, and made her knees buckle in shock.

“This isn’t possible,” she whispered, staring down at the pan. “Cindy!”

The old woman shuffled up to the counter, and nodded a ‘thank you’ as Demi handed her a cupcake. “They’re good.”

“Thanks,” Xander said.

Cindy looked at the boy with wide eyes. “He made these?”

Demi nodded in response, and looked up at Xander with confusion.

“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” he asked nervously.

“No, but... food doesn’t have flavor, here. At least, it didn’t until I showed up. As far as we know, I’m the only person who’s ever been able to make real food, so… this is a bit, uh…” Demi trailed off. “I have to run out for a bit. I’ll be back before we open,” she said, tossing a few cupcakes into a bag and heading for the door without looking back.

In front of the tenements, Bastian stretched his arms out at his sides, speaking to his last tour group for the day. “This is where you’ll be staying until you can afford something less shitty. Paul will get you set up with keys. Sleep tight, and if the bedbugs bite, try not to scratch at it. It’ll only make it worse,” he said, holding open the door and ushering them all inside.

“Bastian!” Demi shouted from across the street.

He nearly let the door swing shut on a particularly weary-looking newcomer as he rushed to meet her. “What’s wrong?”

Demi pulled a cupcake from her bag and hastily shoved it into his face.

“Jesus, Demi,” he protested, trying to get down the excessive amount of cake that had been forced into his mouth. With a shrug of confusion, he said, “It’s good.”

“I know,” she huffed.

“Then why are you freaking out?”

“Because I didn’t make it.”

Bastian chuckled for a moment, before his jaw finally fell at the realization that she wasn’t joking. “What?”

“That boy you brought me. Scooter? Xander? Whatever. He was showing me how to make cupcakes, and—”

“You didn’t help at all?”

Demi shook her head. “I just watched.”

Bastian stared at his smashed cupcake in thought, then returned it to the bag and placed a cigarette between his lips.

“Well? What’s it mean?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, face illuminated by his flickering lighter. “I didn’t even know what it meant when you showed up, Demi. At least you won’t be alone in the kitchen, now. Right?”

“I didn’t need help in the kitchen. The girls needed help on the floor.”

“You still have what’s-her-name. Jess, I think?”

“Maybe. She took off before she even introduced herself.”

“It happens,” he said with a sigh. “Not everyone takes to Yesterwary as quickly or easily as you did. Nobody does, actually. You’re fucking weird,” he joked, nudging her with his elbow.

Demi looked down to her feet, disappointed that Bastian didn’t have an answer for her. But, logically, there was no reason for her to believe he would. He may have spent the majority of his life in Yesterwary, but he knew no more about the place than any other poor soul who resided there, other than the location of everything ever. He was just as lost as she was.

“Hey,” he said, lifting her chin with his thumb, “everything will be fine. Just go with it and see what happens. If nothing else, this means you won’t have to work so many hours. You won’t have to be in the kitchen every single day.”

Demi tried to force herself to accept his reassuring words. But somewhere inside, she knew it wouldn’t be a good thing. She felt as though Yesterwary thought she was too happy, again, and was trying to correct it—take her restaurant away, or replace her, even. Whatever was going on with Xander, she didn’t like it. Then again, maybe it was just because it seemed that she was no longer special.