Shameful Cake

Chief of Police Lenard Kelly reached for the brass handle of his office door to enter, as his pager chimed a warning repeatedly. It was dark in the hallway. The only light visible was the sheet lightning outside the building that poured through the blinds and Lenny knew with his eyesight, it wouldn't be enough. He fumbled for the light switch on the right side of the wall that had consistently and habitually eluded him over the past two decades.

65 and you just can't seem to ever find the right switch, can you, Lenny-boy.

His wrinkled hand swept over drywall till it clasped skin and it shocked him. Not because it was dark and he wasn't expecting company in his Palm Beach Police Department office. The touch shocked him because it was soft and youthful skin, not scaly and loose like his own.

Bright fluorescent light flooded the room. Lenny shielded his eyes from the light with his free hand. At once, the image of an attractive young woman in her early thirties smiled warmly at him. Her chestnut hair was neatly tied into a bun, except for a few strands that escaped, he noticed. The electric green eyes she possessed bore through the lenses of her bifocals in a penetrating stare despite the welcoming grin. The drab black slacks, collared black shirt, and matching leather shoes she wore were wrong, Lenny noted. A small voice inside his mind, too small to be heard but undeniably there, tickled the back of his neck as his hair stood up. He shook away the minuscule voice and pulled his step-daughter, Janet, into a hug.

"Janet, it's dark as hell without a light. What are you doing here?" He scolded her.

For a moment, he was 36 again, snapping his leather belt till he saw Janet flinch, the cerulean crayon she held during the display now forgotten as it clattered to the floor. He remembered his belt making the same sound that a balloon would if you took a needle to it, or firing a gunshot in an enclosed space. The faraway memory sobered him, yet his office seemed darker in its wake.

Janet's lips stretched over her teeth, but the gesture seemed mechanical to him. Lenny's police instincts were muted. Asleep is a more apt word, he would've mused, if he focused harder. However, Janet, despite the other children he's had in his life, always had a hold over him.

Because of your failure as a father, Lenny-boy. You infected her. He turned his head abruptly in a violent shake to rid the thought.

"Lenny?" Janet asked concerned. Her warm hand was still clasped over his own on the light switch, or was it a feigned expression? The small voice inside him squeaked, but he swallowed stubbornly.

"I'm alright." He smiled. "Well, come on. What's the surprise? It's not like you to drop by without a note."

Janet nodded and motioned to her step-father's desk chair to sit. She took the files he was holding in a swift manner, replacing them on his desk. A rich, succulent-looking chocolate cake slice on a white porcelain dish.

"You only experience this once. I wanted to come down and celebrate your retirement with you." She leaned in and shook his shoulder softly.

The slice of cake sat there looking lonesome in a menacing way. His stomach growled but his recently abstracted tooth protested.

"Sweetheart, Dr. Carson will murder me if I eat something as decadent as this after removing a tooth last week." Lenny rubbed his cheek looking dubiously at the cake.

"Come on. Just one bite, I made it special for you." Janet sat across from him with the walnut desk between them. Janet's argument won over his doubts as Lenny sat in his chair, his bull-like frame still intimidating at his age. He looked smug as he began to consume the dessert.

Damn, that's good. That's the stuff. He echoed his thoughts and said aloud, "That's the stuff," pointing his fork repeatedly at the cake slice and repeating, "That's the stuff."

Janet's cool gaze followed the fork to her step-father's lips; his words would always be slurs to her, regardless of how much time passed between them. Regardless if he was drunk or not. She didn't smile this time, Lenny thought to himself. That's the one thing she's done that's familiar since she's been in here.

Janet cocked her left hand towards herself as she studied the time.

"What, you're already looking forward to being free of me," He chuckled to himself, much too proud of his humor to see Janet's clenched jaw, something she only did as an adolescent, whenever she was angry or afraid.

She smiled. Her eyes didn't reflect her smile.

"You finally get your masters in, ...uh, what's it... Veterinarian, right? Right?" His brows lifted out of annoyance when she didn't answer right away. He ignored it and went back to eating his cake. I used to ignore your mother too when she was throwing her heels at the TV. Always trying to copy me despite your efforts to not. He chuckled to himself again in the prolonged silence.

"Forensic Psychology. You wouldn't know that though, because I never told you." She stated in a matter-of-fact way. Her tone ticked him off and he couldn't figure out why.

He opened his mouth to speak again and she interrupted him.

"Charles Bancroft, one of the professors teaching the courses of Criminal Law was holding a conference to educate youth on what to look for in behavioral patterns amongst predators. It was right after The Night Stalker was caught. You were the one who told me to go to it," She stared at him without breaking eye contact till he was interrupted again, on the cusp of speaking.

"That was the first time I was told how to spot things that seem amiss." Her voice sounded different. Shiny little shit keeps waiting for my turn to speak till I do, and she takes it from me, the wench. Yet, it wasn't her voice sounding different that he was focusing on. The small voice in the back of his mind whimpered, his pager echoing the small cries with beep beep beep. He craned his neck to look down at his belt loop to quiet the damn thing when a loud bang shattered his attention and drew his eyes back to his step-daughter sitting across from him.

He saw a book nestled between her hands, its two halves recently slammed together to create the noise he heard.

"That's a bit juvenile, don't you think, Janet? Thanks for the cake, sweetheart, but I'm a busy man."

"It wasn't until Professor Bancroft began to explain predator's motives, especially with children, that I disassociated for the very first time in my life." She spoke and it wasn't her voice that carried her words, it was her mother's voice, straight from the grave.

It was at this exact time that the compact hole in Lenny's vacant gum socket began to tingle slightly. He addressed it stoically, his demeanor straightening in his chair upon hearing the story. His tongue tapped the abstraction site. Satisfied there was no blood, he intertwined his hands above his plate.

"I'm not-"

"'You can touch me wherever you want'. That's what I heard my toddler self say when I recalled what happened to me all those years ago. I screamed. The whole seminar saw me run from my seat, flying down the hall towards the dorms. I didn't even know what I was running from. All I knew to do was to run," Janet's brows furrowed; she was looking out through the window for something. All Lenny saw was the rain falling on the glass, like his shame coming on relentlessly; the rain not giving a fig if he had an umbrella or not.

He cleared his throat with difficulty. Lenny took out the flask from his desk drawer and unstoppered it. Upon taking a swig, he violently spat the contents on the wall. The many plaques and framed photos of his accomplishments judged him as he coughed and spat.

"Turpentine?" Lenny made a face when smelled the flask. He coughed and sputtered again. He clutched his belly as pain flooded his gut.

"Sorry, Lenny. Last call was 29 years ago. I wouldn't want you going to hell inebriated." Janet crossed her arms while she watched her work unfold.

His eyes wide with alarm, he grasped the fork in his sweating palm while he clutched his abdomen with his other arm. He stabbed the cake with effort and witnessed a serpent's head fall out of the crumbling mass. Mouth agape with terror, he drew away. The fork, forgotten in his sudden fear, clattered to the table. It was the only sound aside from his ragged breathing.

"I decided to believe in myself for the first time the night I remembered. It was the night I decided to pursue Forensic Psychology so I could be responsible for locking away the monster that made me hide myself my whole life. It was the night I forgave my mom for marrying you. You manipulated me into hating my own mother after daddy died."

Some more strands of Janet's hair fell to her face, framing it, as she lifted her gaze to the man who made her feel small.

This can't be happening. Reach for the .38 on the desk. Reach it!

Lenny faltered out of his chair and gurgled much like an infant would if it needed to burp. Struggling past his blurring vision, still clutching his abdomen, he whimpered audibly when his exploring free hand felt the empty holster on the inside of his desk.

"I chose tonight because your buddies will think you went home to pass out after your retirement party. Little do they know that the same reason you come visit your office late at night is the same reason there are no recording tapes for the surveillance cameras in the Evidence Room for your habit." She let the large manilla envelope Lenny arrived with earlier fall to the floor, hundreds of polaroids poured forth with a will of their own.

The small voice in the back of Lenny's head hollered loudly now. He reached for his stepdaughter like a dead thing crawling out of its grave. The steel toe of Janet's work boot crunched into the meat of Lenny's hand. The sound from his lips was nothing human to her.

"The Black Mamba was the snake mom tattooed on her thigh to remind her that not all tiny things are small." Janet walked towards the light switch near the door and turned towards him the last time.

"Liquid bandage." She laughed nervously while looking down at her fingers. "Blocks fingerprints pretty well with a couple of coats."

Breathe!

Lenny scratched at his throat furtively as he felt his esophagus begin to succumb to the paralysis.

"I wanted to celebrate the completion of my career by cleaning my closet, Lenny."

Lenny vomited, staining his shirt and the polaroids of his shame. He shook his head, denying his fate even when he thought he could feel the icy breath of Death on the cold sweat of his neck.

"I was afraid your pulled tooth would've healed by now but it didn't." She thought about what she said. "Would've healed if you stopped tonguing it. Venom still travels without a bite, even a small cut could be fatal..." She said matter-of-factly again.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She smiled.

I'm sorry.

He whimpered. The small voice inside himself whimpered too, but not as loud as the breath behind him. He began to choke on whatever words he was about to say if he could say them.

Janet turned off the light switch easily as she whispered, "Suffocate. Now you know the pain that I carry."

His wide eyes stared blankly as she walked out, closing the door behind her.