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Cake

a story by Kate Gentry

A two-year-old girl with short brown hair in a dark green dress stretches on her tip-toes to get a view of what's on the table.

"Happy birthday!" they tell her. "Be sure to make a wish!" She wishes she could see over the table. Finally, she is lifted up into her seat, and she surveys the scene: tea cups, sugar cubes, kid-sized plates, and muffins. It must be tea-time. Then a candle is put in one of the muffins, and Momma lights it.

"Make your wish. Then blow out the flame." Laughter and clapping all around; the girl grins at making people happy. Why doesn't this happen at every tea party? Everyone takes their wrappers off the muffins and eats. "Happy birthday!" they all say.

Later, Grandma and Momma are in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. "Oatmeal muffins, I can't believe it!" Grandma chides.

"It's oatmeal cake!" Mom retorts.

"The poor girl will never know what real birthday cake is!"

"Oh, mother. The cupcakes are easy for kids to eat. You are being dramatic."

It's February 1984 and the little girl is much wiser now, 2 years wiser. She knows what cake is, and more importantly, what it is not. Her friend Sterling down the street has the most amazing birthday parties with piñatas and games. The best part is that he has birthday cake from a bakery.

"Sterling had a REAL cake for his birthday," she tells her Mom.

"Oh, and what was that?"

"It was a He-Man cake from Albertson's, with BLUE frosting!"

"Blue frosting?"

"Yeah, BLUE frosting."

"Don't you think blue is unappetizing?"

"No. Blue is my favorite color."

"Honey," Momma begins, "we're going to have your birthday party on the 5th this year."

"But isn't my birthday on the 4th?" she questions.

"Yes, it is, but we need to have the party the next day, on the weekend."

After a few minutes the girl asks tentatively, "are we still going to have birthday cake?"

"Of course we are, sweetheart! We're going to have strawberry shortcake, just like we did for Grandpa's birthday."

"Will I turn 4 on the 5th then?"

"What do you mean, dear?

"I mean, I won't turn 4 until I eat my birthday cake. So I won't turn 4 until we have the party on the 5th."

"Oh, honey! No, you will turn 4 tomorrow no matter what. We will just have the big celebration the following day!"

The girl is not certain how Momma can be so sure of this. It is, after all, the eating of the cake that inaugurates the birthday. Everyone knows that.

A year later, in December, the girl is walking up and down the hallway practicing "left together, right together." She is nervous.

"It's going to be fun, darling!" they all say. "Every girl should get to be a flower girl at least once." She is not so sure. She has to wear white cotton tights to this event.

"You know," Momma explains, "after the wedding we will go to the reception where they will have wedding cake."

Her ears perk up. Wedding cake? Ah, ha! Like birthday cake! She is consoled and inspired.

The wedding occurs, with only one episode of needing to hike up the white tights at the altar. On to the reception, where the promise of cake hovers! Food is passed. A toast is made. Dancing begins. Mom and Dad begin to gather their belongings.

"Ok honey, it's getting late. Let's head on home."

"But we can't leave until the wedding cake, can we?" she asks.

"It looks like they won't be cutting the cake for a while, and it's time for you to get to bed."

The girls eyes widen but she says nothing. No cake? That was the promise. I was IN this wedding, and I don't get any cake? How is this fair? In the car ride home, she falls asleep. Mom and Dad nod in agreement: it was time to go.

Fast forward, say, 20 years. I am that girl, about to turn 24. I'm hosting a party at my apartment, a party where I make things from scratch instead of buying a bunch of snacks from Trader Joes. It's going to be a simple meal -- soup and chili, with veggies and dip, and plenty of beer and wine to make people happy. I've also got this idea that I'll turn my traditional birthday dessert of strawberry shortcake into something more interesting-crispy angel food cake strips with strawberries and cream.

The day prior to the party I begin experimenting with the cake. I try just sautéing the cake in butter. It soaks it up. I try an egg batter. Spongier it becomes. Maybe if I put it under the broiler? Crispier, but running a huge risk of burning. Discouraged I go to bed, and hope that I will find enlightenment with a good night's sleep. The following day I have work to do in the morning, and the afternoon becomes consumed with simmering soup. I decide I won't mess with the angel food cake and will just serve it as-is. Maybe the guests will drink enough that they will forget it's a birthday party. I can hope. Anyway, birthday cake is over-rated.

In the early afternoon an email appears in my inbox from Micaiah. Micaiah is a friend of mine… well, more a friend of Leah's… but we do hang out in the same circles fairly often. He throws good parties and watches interesting movies. From what I can tell, he's a gourmet chef. He originally told me he had a conflict and would miss tonight's party. I was, oddly, quite disappointed by that news, even though I couldn't pinpoint why. This new email said that he had been able to adjust his schedule and that his attendance could be expected at this evening's party, and could he bring anything? No, I wrote back, and described that I had things under control, including an angel food cake and strawberry concoction. He replied that it sounded wonderful, but he might get inspired that afternoon and if so, would it be alright if he brought something? How could I refuse?

As the party got underway I was busy meeting and greeting, enjoying seeing my friends out of their medical student roles. Not too early but not too late, Micaiah and Leah arrive. Micaiah is carrying a large box.

"What is this?"

"Well, the Spirit found me in the kitchen," he replied (Spirit in reference to SotPF).

"Ah," I begin, "then it must be out of this world."

"We shall see…" he replies.

As the hours pass people give me cards and small gifts. Leah and Micaiah have gone in on a book together entitled If on a Winter's Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino. It looks intriguing.

As I'm in the middle of a conversation, the lights dim and someone taps me on the shoulder. Turning around I see a beautiful circular layer cake with dark frosting, aglow with candles. "Happy birthday to you…" surrounds me. I look beyond the candles. Who is responsible for this work of art? There stands Micaiah, his blonde hair tucked behind one ear, a slightly amused, slightly bemused look upon his face.

Whispers from 22 years ago return to me: make a wish. I wish for something simple. I wish for happiness. Could I ever feel as happy and loved as I feel tonight? I take a deep breath, and in a very controlled yoga-like exhalation, I extinguish each candle with air to spare.

There's a card lying on the coffee table… had I not opened it? Oh, it's the one from Leah and Micaiah-I had only opened the package and missed the card.

On the front is a drawing of tulips, simple and lovely. Inside there are two messages. From Leah, a note about sharing school, life and experiences, and here's to many more. I am excited to start that book they brought. Perhaps I'll start it tomorrow afternoon with another piece of cake. There's also a gift certificate for 4 free tango lessons at Estudio Micaias. How fantastic! I've always been too self-conscious to sign up for dancing lessons.

From Micaiah, the familiar yet mysterious friend who I find occupying my thoughts with increasing frequency. . . "Happy Birthday! Hope you have a terrific year full of all sorts of wonderful experiences!"

I think it's fair to say that, starting with the cake and Tango lessons, and culminating in a particular proposal at the cabin, this year has been defined by terrific, wonderful experiences.

And to think, it only took me 24 years to discover the magnificent potential of REAL cake.