Remember Me

Seven Summers Ago

I woke up to the faint rustling of leaves and the melodious chirping of birds outside. As the first rays of sunlight peered through the thin fabric of my tent, I stretched my arms and yawned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The fresh morning air filled my lungs, rejuvenating me with its crispness. It was the kind of morning that whispered promises of adventure and fun. However, my pleasant awakening was rudely interrupted by an odd and not-so-pleasant aroma wafting into my nostrils. My nose twitched in protest, and I crinkled it in confusion.

What on earth was that horrible smell?

My eyes darted around the tent, trying to identify the source. And then I saw him through the mesh of the tent. Nathan, my partner-in-crime, and the self-proclaimed "culinary genius," was huddled near the small camping stove, his face contorted in concentration. There was a pot of something sizzling on the stove and the air around him was clouded with smoke. Groaning I zip open the tent and climb out, slipping my feet into my pair of slides.

"Nathan, what on earth are you doing?" I asked, my voice a mix of amusement and horror. He glanced up, his brow furrowed.

"Oh hi," Nathan smiled and turned around to face me. " I didn't expect you to be up this early Char. It's seven in the morning."

"Well it's kind of hard to sleep when the only thing I can smell makes me want to puke."

"Are you insulting my cooking? Wow, Charlotte I'm hurt. You know, I'm trying to put my culinary skills to the test just for you."

I stifled a laugh and walked forward, inching closer to inspect his culinary masterpiece. Or rather, his disaster in the making. A charred pancake lay splayed on the pan, its edges blackened and smoking.

"Is that...a pancake?" I raised an eyebrow, fighting back giggles. Nathan nodded, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yep. Just needs a little extra crispiness, you know? The secret to a good pancake as my dad used to say."

I couldn't help but laugh, so I covered my mouth with my hand. "Nathan, you're going to burn down the whole campsite at this rate. Let me show you how it's done."

With a mischievous glimmer in my eyes, I grabbed a fresh pancake mix from our camping supplies and started mixing the ingredients in a bowl. I added a dash of cinnamon and a sprinkle of chocolate chips, just to make it extra delicious. Nathan watched me with both admiration and skepticism.

"Oh, so you think you're better, huh?" Nathan taunted from his seat at the picnic table.

I smirked, feeling a surge of confidence. "Well, let's just say cooking runs in my blood. My mom is a fabulous cook, as you know." As I skillfully flipped the pancakes on the stove, the tantalizing aroma of perfectly cooked breakfast filled the campsite. Nathan's charred attempt paled in comparison, both figuratively and literally. He pouted, pretending to be hurt.

"Okay, okay, fine, I admit it. You're the master chef here."

I giggled and slid a beautifully golden pancake onto a plate. "You're not so bad yourself, Nathan, you know when you're not actively trying to burn down a campsite. Maybe we can team up next time, and I'll teach you a few tricks."

Nathan nodded enthusiastically, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "Deal. We'll be the ultimate culinary duo."

With our plates in hand, we walked across the dirt path to the campsite adjacent to ours, ready to present our culinary creations to the true judges—our dads. They sat by the fire, engrossed in a conversation about fishing or something equally dad-like.

"Dad, we've got a surprise for you!" I called out, my voice brimming with excitement. They turned to face us, their eyes widening as they caught sight of our breakfast offerings. My dad's face lit up with a smile, and Nathan's dad raised an eyebrow, curiosity dancing in his eyes. We presented the plates, side by side, as if challenging them to choose the winner.

My dad took a bite of Nathan's pancake, his face contorting in mild disgust. Meanwhile, Nathan's dad tasted my creation, his eyes widening in surprise. After a brief moment of silence, my dad declared, "Charlotte, you win this round, hands down."

Nathan's dad nodded in agreement, a grin forming on his face. "You've got some serious talent, young lady. Looks like Nathan has a lot to learn from you."

I beamed with pride, exchanging a triumphant glance with Nathan. It was a victory worth celebrating. We walked back to our campsite, and I skillfully prepared the rest of the pancakes on the camping stove.

"Why?" Nathan asked as I placed a plate of fresh pancakes in front of him.

"Why what?" I grunted, throwing another pad of butter into the pan, then pouring more batter for myself.

"You could've just ignored me. Why are you making breakfast?"

Ah, you see, I'm a tit for tat kind of girl. Nathan did something embarrassing—like, really embarrassing. He attempted to cook for me, even though I'm known for my cooking skills. While it's still a matter of debate in my mind, Nathan still made a valid point. I could've ignored him, avoided this whole embarrassing situation, and left Nathan to eat his burnt toast alone. But if I'm being honest...well, I wanted to be here. I wanted to be with this flawed human being who can't make toast or tie his own shoes without his father's help, but who knows how to fix a bike with nothing but a piece of rope and some scissors.

Call it priorities or whatever, but if Nathan was going to make a fool of himself, I couldn't just leave him hanging. Tit for tat, and all that.

"Well, I guess I wanted to show you just how much better I am than you."

The water began to whistle, and Nathan got up from the table, setting the pot aside before brushing back his hair.

"You're getting soft, Charlotte."

"Keep it up, smartie, or I'll make you eat the trash pancakes."

I gestured toward the trash can with the spatula, feeling warmth creep into my face and ears. Nathan leaned forward, grinning like an idiot, but his advance was halted by the spatula I held up as a barrier between us.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, yes, I would," I winked, and Nathan stuck his tongue out at me. "Please just promise me you'll never, ever cook again without adult supervision."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Promise. Though if I do say, I don't think the pancakes would've been too bad."

"Well, then, I guess you can go dig them out of the trash, huh? Try them for yourself?" I huffed through my nose before Nathan snatched the spatula out of my hand.

"No, thank you," he said, swinging the spatula like a sword.

"You're a human disaster, you know that?" I laughed, scooping rice into my bowl.

"Perhaps," Nathan replied, pouring orange juice into his mug, "but who knows, maybe a human disaster is better than nothing."

The only response Nathan received from me was a piece of burnt pancake that I forcefully threw at the back of his head.