page twenty-one

[fantasies]

[All told, it's probably long past Henry's bedtime. Between friends leaving and bad memories, he hasn't had the best month, and it's making it difficult to sleep. Less a bad mood, necessarily (he's had worse months, and less reassuring conversations), but definitely a thoughtful one.

At the very least, he's being very quiet tonight, at first only drawing a line of tick marks across the top of the journal's page. At first it might seem like he's counting, but instead of drawing a diagonal slash when he gets to five, he continues on across the page.

He's humming, too, hushed enough to break slightly at the edges in classic prepubescent fashion, more rhythmic than musical.

There's the soft whining of a dog in the background.]

Bandit, come on, quit it. You're gonna mess me up.

[The tick marks stop, and Henry murmurs something even more hushed, which even the journal doesn't quite pick up.

There's a pause, and then he opts to write his question in scrawled, childish letters:]

Does anyone know how long it takes to make an apple pie?

Comments

[savethedarkness]

I suppose that depends on whether you mean just putting it together, or baking it, as well.

... Comfort food?

[fantasies]

[He chews on the end of his pen, thinking.]

Not really. [He doesn't eat apples.] I was just wondering. I know how to, kind of. I haven't ever made one by myself before, though.

[savethedarkness]

Oh. Well, in that case, I know a thing or two about it. I'm no expert, but I suppose if we put our heads together, we might muddle our way through a cookbook.

[fantasies]

It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be [his pen hovers. what's the word, he knows the word. He scribbles, giving up on that sentence.] People just have to be able to eat it.

[savethedarkness]

Edible, I think, is the word you're looking for. ... Are you saying you want to make a pie for everyone else, but not for yourself?

[unvarnished]

About an hour and a half, I think, from start to finish.

[fantasies]

[Henry makes a soft noise of displeasure, but continues writing.]

That long? Even if you're good at it?

[He's not good at it.]

[unvarnished]

If you factor in the prep and baking time, yeah. [this is why he doesn't cook, Henry: he's way too lazy to devote all that time]

Personally I prefer cherry pies. Papa used to make them for me.

[fantasies]

[A pause. He doodles a small spiral, considering. It must have taken a long time when he used to bake with Jane, he guesses, but it never really felt like it.]

I do too. [beat. August would probably understand.] But if I make a cherry pie then I'm definitely going to eat it.

[unvarnished]

[he laughs. No, he totally gets it] And I'd eat it with you. With vanilla ice cream and whipped cream.

[wait is he supposed to be discouraging this or encouraging?]

[dog_eat_dog]

[And there's Tess, annoyed to have dog whining and children humming at this hour.]

Aren't you a little young to be up this late?

[fantasies]

[He's at least writing, which is more than can be said for a lot of adults.]

I can't sleep.

[dog_eat_dog]

Well, you're definitely not going to get to sleep trying to make apple pie.

[fantasies]

Sitting in bed isn't helping.

[A beat, and then hastier:]

I was gonna make one eventually anyway.

[dog_eat_dog]

So lie in bed, maybe? Or wish for a pie and be done with it.

Dictated

[the_effect_she_has]

I have no idea.

[She thought about it.] We can try, and see what happens?

written;

[fantasies]

Sure! I know how to do it. Kind of. I used to help Jane.

Re: written;

[the_effect_she_has]

Well, now I will help you.

[fantasies]

I'm not as good a teacher, but I bet we can figure it out.

[the_effect_she_has]

Messy apple pie is better than no apple pie.

written

[princelyspirit]

About a couple of hours, I think. But it's a bit late for pie, isn't it? What made you think about something like that?

[fantasies]

My friend liked to bake. It was her loss, so she couldn't, but I'd help her sometimes.

[princelyspirit]

I had a friend like that, too. And not just baking, but cooking in general - she was the kind of person who always made sure that nobody went hungry.

[She guesses that he's talking about Jane, but she doesn't recognize him as the kid she met over the journals earlier. At least, not yet.]

[fantasies]

Yeah.

[There's a delay between that word and the next sentence he writes.]

She would've wanted people to be happy when she left, so I thought I'd do something.

[princelyspirit]

Well, that's very thoughtful of you. And you know, somebody else had an idea pretty close to yours. He thought that maybe it would be a good idea to bake something for the village. You know, make them something nice in her honor.