The Midnight Bake

Vanilla, butter and milk. These were the combination of aromas that filled my tiny apartment that evening. Playing on my Bluetooth speaker was I Drove All Night my favourite track from Celine Dion's One Heart album.

In my flour-stained hands was a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice as it stared at my mixed batter carefully spread out on a baking pan.

The clock on the wall read 10:47 PM but I didn't think it was weird to be baking at such a time of the night when I should be resting for work the next day.

I picked up the pan and just as I was about to slide it into the oven, I heard a soft knock at the door. I looked up at the wall clock again; it read 11 PM on the dot this time. I froze and kept the pan on the kitchen counter, then I reduced the volume of the speaker and listened again.

The not-so-loud, impatient knock came again. I switched off the music, grabbed a towel and walked to the door.

"Who’s there?" I asked, peeking through the keyhole.

“It’s me, Mama Chinedu,” I heard the voice behind the door say. A confirmation of who I thought I saw through the keyhole.

I looked over to the clock again with a slight frown. It was so unusual for Mama Chinedu to visit at such an odd hour. I opened the door to see a smiling face from Mama Chinedu. She had her nightgown and fluffy slippers on with a scarf loosely tied over her head.

“Mama Chinedu,” I called her without hiding my surprise. “Are you alright?”

“Sure, I am,” Mama Chinedu replied, her eyes darting past me into my apartment. She sniffed in "Someone is baking this late". She asked.

"Yes, I couldn't sleep", I replied, still standing at the door. I was still trying to understand why or when she'd tell me the reason for coming over at that odd hour. Already, I knew Mama Chinedu to be sleeping at home with her children and husband by that time of the night.

"Okay, good thing I came at the right time." She shoved me aside and walked into my apartment. "Let me help you". She added adjusting her scarf for the task.

I turned as I watched her walk into my apartment even without being invited in. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. Something was wrong, I could swear it. Then I locked my door and followed her to my kitchen, ready to hear her out.

"I'm almost done. Just need to put that one in the oven" I replied.

"Bake more now, Zerah," she pleaded.

Without countering her, I walked over to where I had stored my baking ingredients and pulled them out. Carefully I handed it over to Mama Chinedu and stepped back. I wasn't the type that interrupts when a person needs to get their mind off things by doing tiny chores or work.

I watched as she mixed a few flour, milk and butter and began making a batter. While we talked about random stuff. From the rise in the cost of food to the decadence in our society today. I was still waiting for her to spill the beans. Deep down I knew Mama Chinedu wasn't in my apartment by that time of the night to be discussing social inadequacies.

When she was done, she slid them all into the oven. Then I walked over to the fridge, grabbed another glass cup, poured her a glass of juice and handed it over to her. Then we leaned on the kitchen counter.

"Thank you", she said, taking the cup from me. She took a sip.
"Isn't it too late to be drinking? I think doctors gave that rule. " She joked.

I chuckled and said, "How about we break some rules tonight, Ma'am"

"I don't mind, if you don't mind", she replied, raising her glass as we clinked it.

Then we laughed heartily and together too.

There was a long silence between us as I watched Mama Chinedu sip her juice absent-mindedly. Then she spoke

"Can I ask you something, Zee?" She said, looking over her shoulders at me.

I put my glass down. "Sure Ma'am".

"Am I being childish?"

I looked at her confused. I just couldn't decipher what she meant or why she had to ask such a question.

"Okay, I'm speaking in parables again", she joked, forcing a laugh.

I laughed with her too.

"Look what I meant was, my husband and I, our anniversary is today." She said.

I let my eyes pop open in excitement. "Congratulations Ma'am. How many years now?"

"Twenty", she replied, smiling.

I nodded without losing my smile. "But that's a good thing".

"It's just that every year on our anniversary, my husband comes home bearing chocolates. It's always been our tradition, maybe his tradition. But tonight, he came back without chocolates. I don't think he even remembered." She lowered her voice. "Do you think he still loves me?*

I let my jaw drop. It was my first time seeing Mama Chinedu that vulnerable. At the same time, I felt this weight on my shoulder. A woman twice my age was seeking advice from me. What could I possibly say?

I cleared my throat. Promising myself to choose my words carefully, "I don't think you're being childish. It's normal to want to feel loved on days like your anniversary. But my mum told me love isn't about the big gestures. It's in the times when your spouse fixes your sink, changes the bulbs, and secures the house. It's in those tiny stuff we barely even notice. I'm sure he still loves you. Maybe he just forgot for real this time" "

Mama Chinedu looked at me. "I'm sorry I had to complain to you like a teenager. When I'm old enough to be your mother" she said.

I smiled. "Does it matter? We all need each other in times like this" I added.

She smiled and gulped on the last drink in her cup. "That's a nice juice. I would have asked for more, but it's late I have to go". She said handing over her cup to me. "Thank you" she added, before she walked to the door

I looked at the clock, it read 12:05 AM. She was right, it was very late.

I walked her to the door and bid her goodbye. Then I walked back to the kitchen to check my cake. Unfortunately, a huge part of it got burnt. I cussed and kicked as I pulled it out of the oven. I proceeded to wash the dishes.

I got in bed around 12:45 AM, and just before, I dozed off. I got a WhatsApp text from Mama Chinedu.

*"He didn't forget. He was just waiting, when we were alone, to give me the chocolates. I was scared for nothing. Thank you for listening, Zerah", the text read.

I replied to her with a big smile on my face. Then it dawned on me that no matter the age difference in a friendship. It will always be as snug and comforting as a warm blanket on a cold night.

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