A Cooking Miracle

“No!” My hand snatched out to grab the water spritzer. “No! Shelly, get away from that cake, I swear to god!” A squirt, a yowl, and everything on the dining room table got knocked off in my cat’s desperate bid for escape. For such a plump cat, she could move like hounds were chasing her. But I was more worried about other things at the moment. Plastic plates flew, napkins fluttered, utensils clattered, but the cake — my beautiful, homemade, chocolate cake — was falling. I lunged forwards just in time to prevent chocolate disaster, fingers pressed against the platter to prevent it from tipping over.

Served me right for placing it near the edge of the table.

With a sigh, I picked up my greatest creation and set it on the kitchen counter. I wasn’t a cook. I had been described by many people, most often my mom, as the antithesis of a cook, so making this cake had taken far too much time of my life and far too many retries. Still, it would be worth it. Hopefully.

Shelly meowed from the floor. I looked down, and any annoyance I still harbored melted at that pair of large blue-green eyes. With a sigh, I collapsed beside her. She eagerly butted against my hand. Already, I could hear her car engine purr. “Sorry old girl, this is important. You know that I don’t often cook, I can’t let you go around eating that cake. And chocolate is not good for you.”

How much she understood, I wasn’t certain, but the petting certainly helped to ease her and my nerves. I let out a slow breath and pushed myself up. “Well, waiting gets me nowhere.” Shelly meowed in protest, her claws hooking into my jeans as she tried once again to press her head against my hand. I snorted and carefully unhooked her. “No, Shelly. Mom will be here any minute. I have to get this table reset thanks to you.”

She was, of course, unrepentant. But I was free, and that’s what mattered. I wandered over to the sink and washed my hands free of any excess cat hair, glancing over at the table. Without the heat of the moment and objects flying through the air, I could tell the damage wasn’t horribly bad. I would just have to reset the tablecloth, grab new utensils, and refold napkins.

I got too work, and it wasn’t long before I was once again moving the chocolate cake onto the table. Shelly hadn’t even tried to hide her interest. She wound around my ankles, mewing, and looking up at me with pleading eyes. I ignored her the best I could and set my creation down in the center this time. My last mistake would not be repeated. I kneeled and placed my finger against her nose. She pulled back, her whiskers flexing and her ears tilting away. “No eating the cake.”

Her reply came in a desolate, heartbroken meow.

The doorbell rung, and I glanced up. Mom was here. With one more “no” directed at Shelly, I stood and brushed off my clothes, then pushed back my hair. “Let’s get this show on the road.” I whispered. Then, with as strong as steps as I could muster, I walked towards the door. Luckily, Shelly followed me. That assuaged one fear. With a deep breath, I opened my door, and smiled. “Hey, mom. It’s good to see you.”

Natalia Brodsky, my mother, stood there, looking as put together as ever. Compared to my mother’s perfect hair and straight clothes, I felt like a cat hair covered lump. But at least her smile was honestly warm. “My dear Alexandra, it is good to see you.” She leaned forwards and wrapped her arms around me. The smell of her perfume enclosed around me, thick and cloying. Still, I returned the embrace. “How have you been, my darling?”

“I’ve been well, mom.” I pressed a kiss against her dark curls, then stepped back. “Come on in, I know Shelly has been wanting to see you.”

She arched one eyebrow in disbelief, but followed me in. “Has she now?” She glanced down at Shelly, who sat neatly with her tail curled around her paws and her ears pricked forwards. Like ice, my mother’s disbelief melted. She kneeled and held out a hand. “Hello, my darling girl. How have you been?”

With an eager meow, Shelly scampered forwards to press her head against Mom’s hand. She returned the requested petting eagerly. They made a darling picture, her in her dark clothes and Shelly with her coat of mottled white and gray. I smiled as I closed the door. “I made cake for the occasion, Mom. We don’t get to see each other often enough, and I figured that … well, that I would try something new.”

She glanced up, and her eyes flicked towards the table. Her eyes widened. “Alexandra, you didn’t have too!” She stood and made her way over, staring at the cake with the critical eye of someone who had baked dozens of them in the past. “It’s very well put together.” The ‘much better done then your other cooking experiments’ went unsaid.

I chuckled and rubbed the back of my head awkwardly. At my feet, Shelly meowed, and I could feel her warm weight settle on my toes. “Well, I worked on this for a long time.” I mumbled, trying to pass it off as not a big deal. I couldn’t stop myself from eyeing it with a bit of trepidation. My past experiments had either been dumped in the trash or served as dinner, and I was getting tired of the taste of chocolate. Honestly! Who would have thought?

“I bet.” She sent me an amused smile and tapped the table. “When do you want to eat it, my dear? The chef always decides.”

“Now, please.” I walked over and grabbed the cutting knife. “We can start on it, at least.” Oh gosh, I just wanted to get this over with. The nerves were coming back full force. I could have made a mistake and not realized it. Cake number four had gone down like that. What if it wasn’t fully cooked? If I gave Mom salmonella, I might never forgive myself.

“Alexandra,” Mom’s chiding tones snapped me out of my onslaught of nerves, “you’re shaking. Let me.” She reached over to pluck the knife from my hands, and gratefully, I let her. As if from afar, I watched her cut up the cake and set a slice on each plate. Her movements were economical, precise. She had full confidence in her cutting abilities. If only I could manage to muster some of her control. As if knowing the thoughts lurking inside my brain, she smiled at me. “Look at that, no runny insides.”

I forced a nervous laugh. “Y-yeah. A miracle.”

She gave me a look, then shook her head. “Calm down, Alexandra, it’s going to be fine.”

Easy for her to say, she was a cooking goddess. My third attempt had had runny insides. Still, I swallowed hard and nodded. “Alright.” I sat down at my seat; Mom sat opposite in hers. Shelly wound around my ankles and pleaded for a slice of cake. I gave her a wobbly smile and picked up my fork. “Well, down the hatch.”

She gave me a look but copied the movement. “Down the hatch.” She murmured, with just enough distaste, in those words to make it clear that she was only uttering them for my sake.

We bit in, and chocolaty goodness exploded across my tongue. My eyes widened. I couldn’t quite stop a small noise of surprise. Mom certainly seemed to experience the same. She stared down at the cake with the eyes of someone who’d been granted a miracle and couldn’t quite believe it. Her voice came out a bit awed. “Alexandra, it’s wonderful.”

I couldn’t stop my smile. I beamed at her, grinning so widely my cheeks hurt. I knew I must look a mess compared to her composed façade, with chocolate frosting on my lips and bits stuck between my teeth, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “Thank you, Mom. I’m glad you like it.”