Any Way You Slice It

Halfway through a surprise party for her 25th birthday, Jessie McAfee looked at Todd Haney looking at Phoebe Taylor and realized she no longer wanted to marry him. She had a bite of chocolate cake on her fork, all ready to pop into her mouth. It was a cake Phoebe had made, and it was good. It was the piece with the “2” written on it in white icing. Todd had the “5” on his. Todd had his hand on her back, but he was looking at Phoebe. In fact, now that she thought about it, even though they were engaged: it was Phoebe who he held doors open for; helped into her coat, sweater, or whatever; threw snowballs at playfully, and for whom he put up kitchen shelves. Jessie struggled with all that on her own and, if she asked for help, was met with a surly response, long-winded complaints, and very little action. As far as snowballs went, she’d rather stay inside tucked up with hot chocolate and a good romance novel.

Phoebe was the cute, helpless girl and, she, Jessie, could do everything on her own. Plus, Phoebe baked chocolate birthday cake. Jessie felt like a lumbering ox in fairyland, and suddenly, the bite of cake turned to dust in her mouth. It was the death of love.

She got up fast, banging her knee on the wooden table leg, pushing the chair back with a screech that made people turn their heads, and went to the bathroom and locked herself in. Now what? Tomorrow she’d have to call the tent company, the photographer, the banquet hall, the dressmaker, the florist. Oh no, the minister, her parents, HIS parents. Wait, was that her responsibility? No, he could call his parents. She decided not to wait.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. “I’ll be out in a minute!” she called. 20 minutes later, she was still leaving cancellation messages while sitting on the toilet seat when she realized she hadn’t told Todd or given back his ring.

She unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. Several people were waiting in line, legs crossed. “Sorry,” she said, “It was a crisis situation.” The first person in line bolted into the bathroom and shot the lock home. The rest of the people in line gave audible sighs of relief and shifted on their feet.

She went to find Todd. He was talking to Phoebe, leaning over her and smiling. Jessie took the ring off her finger; what a relief, really, and handed it to Todd. “Um, I need to go home now, hold this, ok?” She handed him the ring and, ignoring the surprised look on his face and the fact that she now had all his attention, possibly a first, she ran.

She didn’t go home. Well, she went home, but not to the apartment, to her grandmother’s place instead. She had her own key. Gran looked up. She just said, “Happy Birthday, Jessie,” and let it go at that.

Jessie asked, “Is it ok if I stay tonight? I can make you breakfast.” The phone in her pocket vibrated, making her jump.

“Sure,” Gran said, “Two eggs sunny side up with two slices of whole-wheat toast buttered out to the edges. 8 AM.”

Jessie pulled the phone out of her pocket. It was just a text from the Cozy Country Dry Cleaner saying her suit and Todd’s suit were ready to pick up. She thought a moment and then texted the dry cleaners saying that Todd could pick up his own suit, but she’d be there in the morning for hers. She’d fry fish before picking up his dry cleaning now that she was free.

She went up to the room she usually stayed in and sat on one of the two twin beds. Safe.

Is there something like don’t save the date cards, she wondered? Or un- wedding cards? She typed in a search. Apparently, she wasn’t the first to get this far into a mistake. One of the cards just said, “Oops.” That didn’t begin to cover the situation. She scrolled through the selections. None of them said anything philosophical about realizing a big mistake in time or suddenly being struck over a piece of cake. Go ahead and return the gifts, not going to happen; cancel your flights if you made them and go somewhere fun instead, sorry folks, nothing to see here, move-on cards were what she really needed. Should she go minimalist, humorous, or gothic with this? No, wedding etiquette was apparently out the window.

She found a card that didn’t look too bad and saw that it was stocked in a shop near the dry cleaner. They had two packets of 25 with envelopes. That was a good start.

Finally, a text from Todd.

Where are you?

I’m at my grandmother’s.

Ok.

She looked at the two letters. Ok. Is that really all you have to say about this? You aren’t coming over to find out what’s wrong? Try to change my mind? No heart emoji or smiley face, balloons, or birthday cake. No present. She suddenly realized there hadn’t been a present or even flowers or a card. And it was Phoebe that planned the party and made the cake.

She stayed up typing formal regrets and requests for cancellations to all the vendors on her phone to print out later when she got her laptop back, then laid back and turned the light out.

In the morning, she got up at 7:30 and went downstairs to make coffee and then grandma’s breakfast. Gran came down about 7:45 in her robe and slippers. She sat at the kitchen table.

Jessie got up and started taking out the eggs, the nonstick spray her grandma insisted on using, and two square slices of white bread to pop into the toaster. “I broke up with Todd last night,” she said, looking at the pan.

“That’s good, honey.”

Jessie turned and gave her a sharp look. Yes, she had her hearing aids in.

“You can stay here until you find a new place. I’m sure it won’t take more than a week. My hearing might be on the decline, but my vision isn’t. You’ll be happier with someone who helps bring in the groceries and washes a dish now and then.”

Jessie broke two eggs into the pan. The toast popped up. One slice was stuck, so she got the wood chopstick out of the silverware drawer, unplugged the toaster, and pried gently at the top of the slice until it lifted free from the rim of the slot. She buttered both slices generously, then turned to take the egg pan off the burner. She cut the toast diagonally and stacked the triangles on the plate. Then she slid the eggs out of the pan and passed the plate to Gran. She kissed Gran on the forehead and said, “I’ll be back later.” Gran looked down at her plate; a small frown appeared for a second. One of the yolks was broken. “Story of my life apparently,” Jessie said, following the downward glance.

She drove over to the dry cleaner, picked up her suit, and then picked up the cards. There were two big empty boxes next to the door the manager said she could have. She drove over to the apartment. Todd was out. She packed up all her clothes and her laptop and struggled the boxes down to her car. Everything fit in in one load, then she remembered to check the bathroom. The ring was lying on the glass shelf under the mirror. She picked it up and looked at the lab-grown diamond and the two tear-shaped sapphires winking at her in the reflection from the mirror. Then she put it back down on the shelf. Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but they sure looked cold and hard this morning. She doubted she’d ever put one on again. On the way out, she dropped the key on the table next to the door.

Two weeks later, she moved into a studio in the apartment house half a block down from Todd’s place. It was the cheapest one she could find, and Todd was moving in with a friend across town to save money so she wouldn’t be passing him in the street every day. She was putting up some shelves in the kitchen and was just hammering in a screw that wouldn’t drive in all the way when her phone rang. Dang, right on the thumb. Tears streaming down her face, she answered it. It was the bakery. They couldn’t refund her deposit, but she could take it out in cake. Chocolate? The tears came down harder. Vanilla?

In a watery voice, she asked, “Do you make pie?”