An Offering of Cake

My era, an era of strict manners and suppression, was coming to an end. The new era, an era of industry and change, was peeking around the corner. Taking a glance out the window, I felt an urge to belong to this new era. If it were not for my developing illness, I’d have spent more time among today’s youth. My long black cotton dress was tighter than I’d been accustomed to. It’s white and black frills trailed down the front and met in a v just before my waist. If I’d had the privilege to visit these growing factories, or modern mansions, I’d be more prepared for the events of this night. At least, I’d managed to enjoy a posh life among those who believe everything must be earned through harsh labor.

I had gone to great lengths to ensure that my adoptive children, a loose term to describe the youth I’d come to know, would attend my birthday party this exceptional evening. I had gone to even greater lengths to ensure that they would remain well beyond the festivities. I had sent my servants home for family privacy. Despite all the protests, I worked hard to create a delicious chocolate cake.

This cruel world prepares all of us to give everything unto our children; but, the world doesn’t prepare those children for giving unto their elders. That may be the reason for every parent’s eventual abandonment. I had decided that I’d be the taker, not the giver. It took a lot of effort, but out in the swamps I found someone prepared to teach me. She would teach me all I needed to become more than a widow. Turning my glance back into the kitchen, I saw a large brown moth crawling along one of the cabinets. As it fluttered its brown wings, I saw the wings flash a vivid turquoise light. This was the subtle reminder I needed to know that we were all on the path. It was time to finish the chocolate cake.

I energetically began putting the final touches on the chocolate cake. Each slice of cake was designated with an edible flower, of varied colors, at its edge. I made sure to cut each slice into equal portions. This deadly illness had made baking difficult; but it could only be created by me. I was the only one capable of placing all the appropriate ingredients in the right amounts. The children were going to love this chocolate cake, even if it was because of the many possibilities that accompanied it. I carefully set it on top of a rolling cart. I set some plates, cups, and a pitcher full of wine alongside it. I heard the grandfather clock chime the hour. Taking a painful breath, I began rolling the cart out into the dining room.

Each of my children were present sitting around the rectangular table. The oldest, a man with a full beard, stepped forward. He wore a long brown raincoat over his elegant business suit. He stared at me with kind river blue eyes. He held out his arm like a gentleman. I accepted and he led me to the head of the table. He even managed to pull the chair out like any gentleman would do. He was the kindest of them all.

A young woman and her husband stood from their spots. The young woman, wearing a white cotton dress covered in lace, gave a chortle throwing her napkin onto the table. She had her blonde hair tied with an emerald pin. The husband, wore a fine business coat with a matching tie, nudged his wife along. The two of them set to work removing the plates and setting them on the table. I watched as they began pouring drinks and placing the cups beside each plate. I observed the folded piece of paper laying tucked within the husband’s pocket. He was more than prepared for certain financial opportunities. It was fortunate that I had introduced them; otherwise, her crude behavior would’ve left her penniless.

Another young man, shaking his head, walked towards the cart. He swiftly removed the cake and set it down on the table. He carefully set to work removing each slice of chocolate cake and placing them onto the plates. He became more and more forceful with each piece he set down. He was dressed in a navy blue mechanic’s outfit. I paid for his bail to leave prison. I even paid for his expensive lawyers. But I had informed him that all the payments were coming from his inheritance. It was something that he had never forgiven me for. His work had given him muscles and greasy black hair. There was grim struck to the edge of his fingers.

The young man sitting across from me, was dressed in his finest black suit. He'd also taken his inheritance early; however, he used it for an education. He studied at the best schools and made the right friends. This opened an opportunity to enter politics. If fortune continued to favor him, he might wake his way to the senate. He maintained his posture as he watched his adoptive family work. He always behaved superiorly, because he was the prime example of the American dream.

Another young woman sat beside me. As the mechanic approached her, she eyed him warily. After he set her slice down with as much force as he could muster, she slapped his strong arm as a warning. He made to reach for the nearest utensil. To stop him, she rapidly stood upright to stare directly into his eyes. For the next few seconds, they just aggressively stared into each other’s eyes. I could see her chest huffing with each heartbeat. She was dressed in a short dark blue dress that was accompanied by a lacey white shirt with golden buttons. The golden buttons also appeared to flow down her short skirt. The two had been at odds since graduate school. I had hoped that the refinement school would’ve transformed her into a lady.

The youngest of the siblings, a woman wearing a short red dress and a white cotton shirt, just shook her head. She didn’t bother to set her napkin in her lap. Instead, she just lifted her fork to begin eating. I could tell that she didn’t want to be here. She too had taken her inheritance early. But, she had spent most of it on a carefree lifestyle. This lifestyle had kept her from finding a proper husband; but, she always told me that she had a plan. The fact that she came tonight assured me that she was becoming desperate.

The mechanic was the first to step back. Even though they spent most of their time berating each other, neither of them were willing to take the first strike. He took his seat, farthest from her as possible. The husband and wife did the same. The husband made sure to take the other seat beside me. Without speaking a word, the other children began eating. Each of them trying to act as polite as possible. A few bites in, I could see the confused expression on their faces. It mostly tasted of chocolate, but there were some unexpected additional flavors. None of them dared to question it, nor did they stop.

The grandfather clock chimed the next hour; three in the morning. I was glad that each of them had begrudgingly accepted my late night invitation. Each of them were waiting to speak with me about financial arrangements. The only thing they wanted desperately more than money was for me to die. I bite my tongue until I taste blood. “La jeunesse soit à moi,” I muttered.

Each of them exchanged bewildered glances. Then their pain became apparent. I was not going to be the giver for these children. The wife whose gluttony fed off her husband’s greed. The youngest daughter whose sloth lifestyle had left her of little use. The mechanic who was overly envious of his siblings. The wrathful daughter, and the prideful brother. Although, I would miss my oldest gentleman. The oldest gentleman who had become my lustful companion.

The pain had grown too intense, so they began to scream. The youngest ruptured into nothing but ash. The others began to follow in a similar fashion. I witnessed as one by one, each of my adoptive children disintegrated into ash. I found it strange that I was not overcome by any form of remorse. I reached out, with a younger hand, and lifted my glass. The spell had not led me astray. I was given all that was promised, and I couldn’t wait to learn more. A bit of ash fell upon my cheek. As the piece of ash fell, it turned into a drop of blood. Grinning, I took a sip of wine that had filled my glass.