The cake is a lie

June 2015

My mother died today. In her usual way, she baked a beautiful, chocolate cake. She frosted it with care, the way she did everything. Cut a single piece, put it on an ornate blue and white cake plate. Set it on the table with a carefully folded linen napkin and a silver dessert fork. She laid a folded note next to the slice of cake and then methodically Placed the rest of the decadent perfection on the cake stand, set the glass lid over it, and hung her apron on a peg. Then she dropped dead. The doctors said it was a brain aneurism. Gone. Just like that. Seems like such a waste of cake.

After the coroner had gone, I sat and stared at the note she had left next to the plate. And then picked up the cake and threw it against the wall.

July 2015

Mother is buried and I suppose mourned. The flocks of people who loved her cake flooded the house, bringing casseroles and such things. No desserts though. Who would bring a cake to the memorial of a cake maker? They certainly weren’t giving cake to me. My aunt tried to throw out the cake sitting in the stand, saying I shouldn’t keep it around. I think she wanted it for herself. She was always jealous of mother. The lawyer says I should sell the house and go into a program. I told him to fuck off. There’s no cake in a program. Here there is. It sits there and mocks me a bit. The exposed insides starting to dry a bit where she sliced through the softness with a knife. It still looks almost as perfect as the day she made it. If I keep the lid on it should be fine. I’m alone now. Except for the cake.

August 2016

The lawyer finalized all the papers. I am the owner of this house, with his light brown paint and frosting shingles. Also, a cupcake yellow Lincoln continental. She left a little money in a trust, with a caveat that I can never again eat cake. I feel my hatred for her boil up. I decide its time to put it behind me. I start to go for walks in the evening. I eat salads. I get thinner. The cake still sits there on the counter. Taunting me. The exposed insides, dry and shriveled now. If I turn it the right way, then I don’t see that. Only the perfect icing.

September 2016

I could only keep up with the salad for so long. Soon I’m back to eating chicken dripping in lard and ice cream. The containers scatter across the kitchen. I don’t throw them away. They are a memorial to who I have become. I have moved the cake to a small table by the window. It sits there with the lace curtains blowing behind. In a place of honor where it belongs. Still so perfect. Just like you mother. So pristine and thin and perfect.

October 2016

Halloween brings the crispness of fall and the bags of fun size treats. Children come to the door in costumes of monsters and princesses and ring the bell. But I don’t answer. I sit in the dark of the kitchen and stuff candy into my mouth. In the dark because I failed to pay the power bill. I don’t need it though. I have candles. I can still see the cake. The grocery people still bring me bags of chips and cheese dips and frozen pizzas. I just let them thaw and eat them now. I don’t remember when last I bathed. I sleep here in the kitchen, with the cake. It hard to get off the mattress that I lay on. Sometimes I just piss in an empty soda bottle, so I don’t have to get up. The cake is starting to show some wear. I thought I saw something wriggling in it. No matter. I still adore it. This memorial to you mother.

November 2016

The lawyer sent people to clean out the house today. He is selling it and sending me to a program. He says I need help. That I am insane. I begged him not to do this. My cries fell on deaf ears. He did agree to let me spend one more night here in the kitchen, with the cake. So, this is goodbye mother. Tomorrow your cake shall disappear much like you. I don’t know what will become of me.

The Star Herald

November 12, 2016

Police were called to the home of deceased cake maker Margo Ambrosia today when her attorney and movers discovered the body of her deceased son Harold in the kitchen. Harold was known by the community to have a problem with his weight and over the last few months grossed over 600 pounds. He was found deceased on a bare mattress in the kitchen, surround by refuse from various fast-food establishments. Police stated that two items were found clutched in his arms. A note from his deceased mother and a glass cake dish.

No cake was found.