Love, Life, and Chocolate Cake

They are twenty-six.

She stands behind him in line at a sandwich shop, but she doesn’t take notice of him at all. Her gurgling stomach reflects the only thing on her mind - she’s starving.

Her eyes lock in on the treasure she came here for: a slice of homemade chocolate cake, just waiting for her behind the glass display case. It has two fluffy layers separated by a rich fudge buttercream, and her mouth waters just thinking about it. In her mind it’s easily the best cake in town. Maybe the entire world.

She debates with herself on whether or not it’s socially acceptable to order just cake for lunch. Normally she might have bought some “real” food along with it, just to avoid judgment; but she can’t bring herself to care today. I’m a law abiding, tax paying adult. I can eat cake as a meal if I want to, she tells herself.

He shuffles forward when the cashier calls out “Next!”

“Hi there! Could I get a number three, and...hmm…” he leans over to peruse the dessert selection. “How about that chocolate cake?”

“Lucky man, looks like that’s the last slice!” the cashier replies as they slide the display open. He smiles at his good fortune.

“Ughhh…” she groans in disappointment behind him. Just my luck. Could today get any worse?

He turns around and looks at her curiously. “I’m sorry, were you also wanting the cake?” His tone was kind.

Her cheeks go bright pink in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh, did I do that out loud?” How embarrassing!

He chuckles. “Yeah...must be some cake, huh?” He has an easy, slightly crooked smile.

“It’s amazing. That’s what I came here for, actually. But it’s totally fine!” she adds quickly, before he can say anything back. “They have plenty of other good stuff here, I’ll find something else. I’m sorry I was rude, it’s just been a long day.”

He immediately offers the cake to her, which she vehemently refuses. She’s mortified at this point, it would have been far better if he had just been rude back. Why did he have to be so nice?

“I can’t in good conscience take the last slice now that I know it’s your favorite. So if you won’t take it off my hands...how about we share it?” His smile is genuine, and eyes earnest.

I can’t be sharing food with strangers...can I? Her eyes dart to the slice of cake, which is now being handed over on a small plate. Then again, everyone is a stranger at first, right? And that cake is so, so good…

She decides to take a chance. She can’t possibly embarrass herself any more than she has already.

“Um...sure. If you’re positive you don’t mind!”

He looks surprised, but pleased. “Not at all! Where would you like to sit?”

They are twenty-eight.

She feels a little uncomfortable eating at such a fancy restaurant. Ever since they moved in together, they had been actively trying to save up as much money as they could. He sold his motorcycle, she took on a second job, and they’d eaten more ramen and PB&J’s in the past year than in their entire lives combined. She couldn’t even remember the last time they had eaten out anywhere, let alone someplace like this. But he insisted they celebrate their anniversary in style.

“More wine?” a waiter asks. She’s drinking the house wine because it was the cheapest one on the menu, but she remembers the cost per glass. Too bad wine refills aren’t free.

“No, thank you. Could I just get some water?”

He asks for the same and the waiter leaves them. He fidgets in his seat a little; she hopes he isn’t regretting coming here.

It’s too bad they aren’t ready to get married. This would have been a great spot for him to propose - candlelit table with a warm, intimate glow; soft jazz playing in the background; each of them dressed up as nice as they'd ever been. They had talked about it plenty before; they were going to get married, one day, but they needed to get their financial situation in order first. He wanted her to have her dream wedding, and for them to be ready to buy a home. It made sense.

But it was still disappointing.

She smiles at him and reaches out to hold his hand. It’s clammy, and his face seems pale as well. Wow, he must be really worried about the bill. Good thing I didn’t order more wine. Their waiter comes back quickly with their waters and removes their dinner plates before disappearing again.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice, interrupting her just as she’s about to promise they will be extra good this month, to offset the dinner bill. “Your chocolate cake.” It’s being set down on the table before she can protest.

“No, no! We didn’t order any dessert!” She knows how worried he is already, and doesn’t want to be billed for something they didn’t ask for. “You must have the wrong table.”

“No mistake, ma’am. Enjoy.”

She looks across the table at him, still concerned about whether or not they will be charged if she takes a bite.

“Go ahead. Looks like it’s chocolate, your favorite.” He smiles that crooked smile of his. She finally looks down at the plate.

Will you marry me? is written across the bottom in chocolate sauce.

They are thirty-two.

It was a long labor, but he was by her side the whole time. The baby has finally fallen asleep in the bassinet next to the hospital bed, unbothered by the thunder and lightning show raging just outside the window.

“We did it,” she says lovingly. “I can’t believe it. We’re parents. You’re a dad.”

He chuckles quietly. “I mean...I can’t take much credit, you’ve done most of the work. And you did an amazing job. I’m so proud of you. You’re already a great mom.”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, reveling in the tiny human beside them.

“I don’t want to ruin the moment, but…I am starving. Is there any food in here?”

There’s a mischievous look on his face. “Well, the doctor told me you should eat something healthy, with a lot of iron and protein…” She rolls her eyes. “But…” he pauses as he reaches behind him, “...instead I got you this.” He pulls off a cloche to reveal a small piece of chocolate sheet cake. “It’s from the hospital cafeteria so I can’t imagine it’s that good, but I still thought that you might -”

She’s already grabbing the fork and taking a bite while the plate is still in his hands. “It’s amazing,” she says after she swallows, “best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

He is eighty-three.

His room at the nursing home is pleasant, with bright yellow walls and a comfortable bed. Photos of smiling people hang on the walls, though he’s long since forgotten who any of them are.

She passed many years ago, and he was never the same afterwards. Not really. He tried to be strong for the sake of their son, and for their grandchildren, but a light went out in him along with her. In recent years, the dementia set in hard, and he struggled to recall much of anything anymore.

He gets visitors fairly often, and they bring him snacks and toiletries, but his son has to remind him how they know each other several times a visit. The nurses catch him staring at the framed photo of his wedding day, though they doubt he even recognizes himself in the picture.

“Dad?” his son asks. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

His eyes start to water, though he’s not sure why. “The only thing I want in the entire world,” he replies, “is a slice of chocolate cake.”