Bitter Sweet Beginnings Read Online Free Page A

the tray is freed from the scorching tomb and placed on the countertop to cool.
    Each perfectly rounded chocolatey mound steaming its mocha goodness throughout the room is almost cookbook worthy in its perfection. Of course it is. Dana’s a Grade-A baker, taught by none other than Regina Griffiths herself. They were a famous mother-daughter baking duo back home.
    Not a single occasion, church bake sale, school fundraiser, or sometimes just a random weeknight went by without them being solicited to participate by baking one of their claims to fame. I’m pretty damn sure nothing came out of a box back then and I’m positive mom would drop down and faint if she knew Dana had given in to Betty Crocker’s fudge cupcake mix today.
    Any normal person walking in on this would salivate and jump on the delicousness being prepared in front of me. My stomach does churn, though… just not in the way you’d think.

    ~*~

    THEN

    Dad slowly took the seat next to me.
    “They’re at it again, huh?” he asked.
    I turned to him, raised my eyebrows and nodded slowly, confirming. He exhaled deeply and we sat in mutual disappointment.
    “Hey, hon?” he asked loudly, making sure his voice carried into the busy kitchen on the other side of the dining table. “Not sure if there’s a whole lot of time for you to be doing this right now. You and Charlie should be leaving soon.”
    A loud crash rang out as a heavy bowl was dropped into the sink. “There’s plenty of time. I’ve got to get these peanut bars made for Dana’s recital tomorrow.”
    Her words had hit hard. Of course she had to make peanut bars for Dana’s show tomorrow. That was a very important occasion, right? Much, much more important than shopping for a prom dress like we had planned to do that afternoon.
    Dad clenched his jaw and dropped his head in disappointment when mom let out, “I’ll be done in an hour or so. Maybe two, if I can get the coconut cookies started.”
    It was a Sunday. About three weeks before the senior dance that would mark a milestone in my life, and I still hadn’t found a dress. Every gown I had picked out with my friends had been vetoed by my over-conservative mother on the grounds that it was either too slutty (she did actually use that word), the “wrong” color for my skin tone, or made my size 6 hips look “wide”.
    Nothing I had picked on my own was good enough to meet her approval, and I had been forced to return each dress purchased. Mom had promised that we’d be able to shop and find a dress in time, even though the longer we waited, the limited supply of prom dresses in our town dwindled.
    Mom had bought some poofy, pink satin and lace Disney-princess styled dress from her favorite department store months ago for me, convinced it was the perfect prom dress. The cotton-candy colored mess had left me speechless and pissed. I had refused to wear it, and I had suspected that mom’s lackadaisical attitude toward shopping for another one was some passive-aggressive tactic of hers to force me to submit and agree to wear the dress she had chosen without me.
    I bit my lip and tapped relentlessly on the shiny dining room table, frustrated that my mom was putting this off once again.
    Dad sat back against the rigid back of the heavy wooden chair, disheartened. He looked at me.
    “Grab your things. Let’s go.”
    His words confused me. “Go where?” I voiced.
    He took a deep breath. “Shopping. I’m taking you shopping and we’re going to find you a prom dress.”
    It took only a few moments for me to gather my little baby-doll backpack and the wallet that housed my new driver’s license just in case dad would be gracious enough to let me do the driving.
    Mom and Dana were too busy with their pans and ingredients, laughing up a storm while bonding over some traditional feminine dessert-making pastime to even notice that dad and I had jumped ship to hit the mall.
    The last thing I remembered as I closed the front door behind me was