04-03-2019, 03:07 PM
At the age of nine or ten, Nina Siwak lived in Paris for some time. That was when she discovered her dream of pastries. To her young mind, the cakes and ice creams were the epitome of wealthy living, not just their cost or beauty, but the fact that if you bought one it would not last forever like a necklace. It would vanish in the time it took you to wolf down. That was high living to her. The Nina who would have cheerfully scoffed at luxury merchandise like silks, bags, shoes, jewelry—sparkly good clothes and expensive augmentations—all over people who owned more than her family’s collective wealth in the outfits they stood in, people whose conversations, when she overheard them, where about culture and politics and art, and economic systems, and all sorts of other ridiculous issues that seemed to the young Nina a waste of breath.
It had been her habit, every week or so, to find one of the high end pastry shops or bakers, mostly in the XVIth arrondissement, and spend a few, wet mouthed hours admiring the unobtainable things in their windows, and wonder what they tasted like.
They looked glorious.
She’d seen luxury food before, but the french pastries were something else. Under the canopy display, behind the panes of its window, there were cakes, puffs, tarts, buns, pinwheels, croissants, and a hundred other confections of sugar and art that were every bit as exquisite as the displays in the jewelry shops. The colors, the shapes, the decorations, all these things made her marvel. So did all the foreign names handwritten on the cards beside each work of art. And the prices…
If they cost so much, what in the name of light did they taste like?
She would spend hours pressed against the glass of display windows, gazing at extravagance, until the angry shopkeepers chased her away…
In Bas’s shared bedroom, Nina lifted the pastry and unwrapped it. “All right, I tell you what,” she said. “We’ll share it. Half and half.”
She looked at the pastry, trying to restart her inner voice. Coincidence and something she privately believed in, called fate, had just opened the future up to her.
And it looked very inviting. She took a few mouth watering moments to admire it.
Then she turned from the pastry and looked down at Bas on the bed. She placed her hands gently on Bas’s shoulders. “my thanks, Bas.”
Cutting the pastry carefully not to spray crumbs or ruin its structure, Nina collected up her half and took a big bite.
She blinked and then laughed. The laughter boomed out of her, hard and joyous, and she was quite unable to keep it in.
It had been her habit, every week or so, to find one of the high end pastry shops or bakers, mostly in the XVIth arrondissement, and spend a few, wet mouthed hours admiring the unobtainable things in their windows, and wonder what they tasted like.
They looked glorious.
She’d seen luxury food before, but the french pastries were something else. Under the canopy display, behind the panes of its window, there were cakes, puffs, tarts, buns, pinwheels, croissants, and a hundred other confections of sugar and art that were every bit as exquisite as the displays in the jewelry shops. The colors, the shapes, the decorations, all these things made her marvel. So did all the foreign names handwritten on the cards beside each work of art. And the prices…
If they cost so much, what in the name of light did they taste like?
She would spend hours pressed against the glass of display windows, gazing at extravagance, until the angry shopkeepers chased her away…
In Bas’s shared bedroom, Nina lifted the pastry and unwrapped it. “All right, I tell you what,” she said. “We’ll share it. Half and half.”
She looked at the pastry, trying to restart her inner voice. Coincidence and something she privately believed in, called fate, had just opened the future up to her.
And it looked very inviting. She took a few mouth watering moments to admire it.
Then she turned from the pastry and looked down at Bas on the bed. She placed her hands gently on Bas’s shoulders. “my thanks, Bas.”
Cutting the pastry carefully not to spray crumbs or ruin its structure, Nina collected up her half and took a big bite.
She blinked and then laughed. The laughter boomed out of her, hard and joyous, and she was quite unable to keep it in.
Nina