The Crust by Nathan Leslie

Wayne liked the idea of hiding something within, a little surprise to be discovered by whoever was lucky (or unlucky) enough to receive that particular slice of pie. Something unexpected, like a peanut, something not supposed to be there. Something from outside of the pie sphere.

He would never tell his mother of this—she was the one who taught him how to make pies. They started with apple—the chopping, the mixing with sugar and cinnamon. The crust—that was the difficult part. Not too difficult, but took practice. Took some doing, some subtle adjustments. The first few times his crust was all dust or mud. 

When he got the hang of it, then he made peach and berry and one time he was able to piece together a strawberry rhubarb. It was grueling work, but enjoyable on some level—once his hands became acclimated. Making something others could enjoy. Making something worth savoring. 

It was when he made the cherry pie that he performed his first hidden—a walnut. He thought about the other options, but he didn’t want someone to gag on a pen cap or staple. That could be dangerous. Wayne only wanted some surprise mischief, not real mischief. However, as it happened he drew the slice with the walnut and had to eat it without remark.

The second time he used a peppercorn. This would be perhaps more noticeable, he thought, more obvious—at least to the person who was lucky (or unlucky) enough to taste pepper in a piece of pie. It was the very first piece that got it—his father’s piece. Wayne could tell his father got the peppercorn because he watched him delicately fish it out with his fingers and place it with a tink on his plate. He said nothing and only complimented the pie before brusquely disappearing into his office.

His mother received the piece of peach blueberry with the peanut hidden inside—the fourth—from the pie.

She too removed the odd object from pie when she tongued the peanut in her mouth and then she withdrew it and dropped it on her plate matter-of-factly. Eyeballed it with a slight cock of her head. She too complimented the pie without remarking upon the peanut. However, at the breakfast table the next morning, before his father was around, Wayne’s mother turned to him.

“It appears you are having a wonderful time making pies.”

“I am,” Wayne said. “It’s the best dessert there is.”

“I’m glad to see you are adding that element of surprise, also. I guess that keeps us all on our feet. Who knows what might turn up next?”

Wayne shrugged, said he was unsure what she meant.

“Peanuts just appear out of nowhere. Maybe the peaches had a baby in the oven.”

“Or the crust did,” Wayne said. “Maybe that’s what happened.”

“Blame the crust, everyone does.”

In the picture it shows Wayne sliding an apple pie onto the windowsill. Underneath the pie was a gingham towel, blue and white. What the picture cannot show is the fact that inside the pie was a penny. He decided to be more obvious with his hiddens. He also hoped he would receive them—if his father did, there would be hell to pay.

Nathan Leslie won the 2019 Washington Writers’ Publishing House prize for fiction for his satirical collection of short stories, Hurry Up and Relax. He is also the series editor for Best Small Fictions. He is the author of thirteen books including Invisible Hand, A Fly in the Ointment, Sibs, and The Tall Tale of Tommy Twice. Nathan is currently the founder and organizer of the Reston Reading Series in Reston, Virginia, and the publisher and editor of the online journal Maryland Literary Review. His fiction has been published in hundreds of literary magazines such as Shenandoah, North American Review, Boulevard, Hotel Amerika, and Cimarron Review. Nathan’s nonfiction has been published in The Washington Post, Kansas City Star, and Orlando Sentinel. Nathan lives in Northern Virginia.