The Miracle of Cake

Turning the corner, I came to face a long, fluorescent-lit hallway. Doctors and nurses buzzed around me, carrying lab results and talking loudly. I heard medical jargon being thrown around but didn’t understand any of it.

Of all the things I should’ve been worrying about, I could only seem to think about one thing in particular: cake. Delicious and rich chocolate cake. It was a recipe I stumbled upon a while back while mindlessly scrolling through Pinterest as my mom was droning on and on about my grades that college semester. I had decided to make it a few days before, due to the rain. I always bake on rainy days because my grandma and I used to do that when I was a kid. Now that cake, my beautiful chocolate cake, was sitting half-cooked in my oven.

Two days prior to that day in the hospital, my dad called me. I could practically sense the tears falling down his face and the urgency in his voice before he even spoke a word. My dad never called during work. I was already motioning to turn off the oven when I screeched, “what’s wrong?” into the phone.

“It’s your mother. Hurry!” He hung up without saying anything else. He didn’t need to. I already knew where she was as there was only one hospital in my relatively small town. Like a robot, I left the house and drove to the hospital.

Now here I was. Two days later. I had learned that the heavy rain caused someone to not notice their highway exit. When they tried to swerve into the exit lane at the last minute, they didn’t notice that my mom was there. Her car flipped over.

I wanted to crawl out of my body. I knew I should start moving down the hallway, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to go down the hall and see my dad clenching my mom’s hand. I couldn’t see her fragile body hooked up to countless machines. Hearing them beep made me want to scream, cry, and swear all at the same time.

So instead, I thought about my chocolate cake. I should clarify that I was making death by chocolate cake. I couldn’t help but smirk at the irony. I cursed myself for doing so. This was not the right way to cope. I tried to imagine the smell of the sweet cake, but all I smelled was the heavy stench of cleaning supplies and hospital soap. Stupid, stupid hospital soap.

“Hey, are you ok? You look a little lost.” someone murmured. I jerked my head up. I didn’t even realize I was looking down. The guy that spoke was donning light blue scrubs that matched perfectly with his eyes. He also had sinfully curly, brown hair and olive skin. He was cute. I cursed myself yet again because I knew I shouldn’t be checking this man out while my mom was laying in a hospital bed dying. I really was an awful daughter. He blinked, and I realized he was still waiting for my response.

“Oh. I’m not lost. I just…” I wrung my hands out.

“You just can’t face it right now,” he responded softly. My eyes widened. How did he know?

“I can tell because I know what it feels like,” he said. “We’re also in a hospital right now, so it's kinda a given. I’m sure you're not having the time of your life right now.” He awkwardly looked off, and I could tell he regretted saying that. I appreciated his honesty though.

“Exactly,” I breathed. “I told my dad I would come back, but I just can’t right now.”

He studied me for a moment before suggesting something.

“Do you want to go somewhere? I know a somewhat private place. It might be a change of pace.”

“Sure.” I followed him back down the corridor that I’d originally come from. He walked quickly. So quickly that I had to slightly jog to keep up with him. I assumed walking quickly was a doctor or nurse thing. He also had incredibly long legs.

I followed him through a doorway and down a secret cement staircase that appeared to be used strictly by hospital staff. A doctor walking up nodded at the man leading me downstairs. It occurred to me that I didn’t even know his name and yet, I had this strong urge to follow him.

When we reached the bottom of the staircase, he took me through a doorway that led outside. The sun was shining and illuminating a cement path that seemed to loop around the hospital and through the woods next to it. I could hear birds chirping a sweet song, and I let myself breathe in the fresh air. It felt so much safer outside than in the sterilized hospital.

“I take walks a lot. It helps to ease my mind after witnessing tough moments. My name is Nathan by the way.”

“I’m Ally,” I responded timidly. I quickly added that my dad’s name was also Nathan. We were both walking side by side down the path. Neither of us talked. It felt nice to walk with someone, and we fell into a comfortable silence. Walking here with Nathan felt as safe as baking on a rainy day. That said a lot.

“Now this is what I wanted to show you.” He gestured to a little cart near the path towards the back of the hospital. I thought this was an odd location for a food cart. They would probably get more business in the front or somewhere else; somewhere people actually felt like eating.

“Hey Nathan,” crowed the old man. His voice had a run-down quality about it. His glasses glared against the sunlight, and his grin revealed a cute smile with a few missing teeth.

“Bill. My man.” They shook hands over the cart. “Bill here sells food to the hospital staff. It’s kind of our staff’s own secret thing. He knows how hard it can get sometimes doing what we do.” Bill nodded at this.

“Wow. I can’t even imagine the work you do,” I awed.

“Yes, dear. It’s tough. I used to be a doctor back in the day.” Bill looked back at the hospital longingly. My stomach made a gurgling sound that both men seemed to notice. I hadn’t eaten in two days.

“I’m glad you're hungry!” chimed Bill. “I have my special today: death by chocolate cake.”

“Yes!” said Nathan. “I love when you make this. Ally, you're gonna die when you taste this.” It was an ironic choice of words

“Cake. You have chocolate cake?” I stuttered. Nathan studied me closely.

“Is that okay?” he questioned.

“Of course. I love cake!” Bill handed me a piece on a small yet sturdy paper plate along with a plastic fork. I eagerly took a large bite. It was absolutely heavenly, and the piece practically disintegrated in my mouth. The actual cake was moist and rich. The frosting was light and fluffy. I glanced at Nathan who was eagerly shoving bites into his mouth. I couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t just a coincidence. I was just thinking about my own cake I had been making at home. The cake had somehow made its way to me here, at the hospital.

Hope bloomed in my chest. I had a feeling that this cake meant something more.

“Bill, do you think I could have another piece?” I asked.

“Wow, it’s that good huh? I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take the rest of this tray.” He pulled up a glass cake tray that was practically full besides the two missing pieces that we had just consumed greedily.

“What! I can’t do that.”

“It’s no problem. I have two more trays with me. Eat it all or give it to others. I have a feeling you need this.” I smiled at his generosity and thanked him profusely. After we walked the rest of the path and got back to where we started, I asked Nathan if he wanted to visit someone with me. I didn’t tell him it was my mom, but he agreed. He had offered to carry the tray the whole walk.

When we got back to the hallway where this all started, I froze. The hallway felt ominous in a way I couldn’t explain.

“Hey,” Nathan murmured. He turned my chin towards him, sincerity shining in his beautiful blue eyes. “I’m right here with you.” I blinked back tears as I tentatively took the first few steps. When I noticed that he was still right beside me, I gathered the courage to take a few more. Soon, I was walking at a quick pace. It was almost as if my mom’s room was calling to me.

I was about three steps from the door which I noticed was slightly ajar. That’s when I heard it. My mom’s raspy laugh. She laughed for about two seconds before erupting into a coughing fit.

“Be careful, sweetie,” said my dad.

“Based on the extent of your injuries, you will probably have to stay here for another three weeks or so. But this is practically a miracle!” a female voice praised. I ran in.

“Mom!”

“Sweetie, I’m ok!” A laugh tickled my throat as tears started falling down my cheeks. I couldn’t hug her as she was still hooked up to numerous machines, and casts covered various parts of her body. I gently squeezed her hand.

“I have something for you.” I motioned for Nathan to come forward. “Well first, this is Nathan. He’s helped me a lot today.” My parents both acknowledged him. I took the tray from his hands. “This is the best chocolate cake ever! I knew you needed it. I just had a feeling.”

“Well, you know that’s my favorite!" said mom. We all laughed and we each had a piece of cake. A few other nurses and doctors had a piece too. It was celebratory and felt like it was meant to be.

10 Years Later

I look lovingly at my mom. Everyone around us sings a boisterous rendition of “Happy Birthday.” My mom giggles as her granddaughter, my daughter, wiggles in her lap and kisses her cheek. When the song is done, everyone reminds her to make a wish. She eyes the cake. You guessed it, it’s a chocolate cake. I finally got the recipe from Bill after years of coaxing.

“I don’t need anything,” she beams and then quickly blows out the candles. While everyone cheers, Nathan wraps his arms around me from behind.

“Hmm chocolate,” he practically moans. We have been married for five years now and have one daughter named Hope. We also just found out that I’m pregnant again but wanted to wait to tell everyone after my mom’s birthday.

Everyone grabs a cut piece and chows it down. I receive many compliments on my baking abilities. Looking around, a wide grin spreads across my face. I know it’s silly to believe that cake can somehow bring on a miracle. But after seeing everyone, I know that it does. Cake can bring us together in ways we may not expect. That day in the hospital was proof: my cheesy miracle. And it all started with a piece of cake.