Triple Chocolate Cake

I was expecting the care package from my grandmother to come any day now, so I wasn't surprised to see one sitting by my mailbox. What surprised me was how it looked, wrapped in dirty brown paper that looked like it might have been part of a grocery bag at one time. My father's mother had more money than she knew what to do with. There was no way the package could possibly come from her. Mimi, as she preferred to be called, would probably have a heart attack if she even saw this.

I could see "fragile" written on the side in permanent marker in scrawling, old person handwriting. Mimi was the only relative I had who could possibly fall into the category of an old person but I honestly doubted that she had handwritten anything since the invention of the typewriter. I had certainly never seen anything handwritten by her in my 23 years on this planet.

As I got closer, I saw that my name and address were written with the same marker in the same handwriting. There was no return address and I had no idea who would have sent it to me. I picked up the package and turned to go back to the house to my rented room on the third floor. Mimi was horrified the only time she had visited me here this past spring. The idea that a granddaughter of hers would even think to lower herself to sleeping in the "servants' quarters" appalled her.

"Jenna, if money is an issue, I can help you out until you finish at the university. I can also just buy a house in town and you can pay me the same rent," Mimi's upturned nose made me want to giggle but I held back. "I still don't see why you haven't even attempted to get into a sorority yet."

"Mimi," I tried to keep a serious expression on my face, "I am most certainly not the sorority type. You know I have an allergy to anything girly or feminine. Besides, I love my place here and Mrs. Jackson makes the best food."

Mimi rolled her eyes but changed her tune at dinner that night. Mrs. Jackson made the best sweet potato casserole and ribs that I had tasted in my entire life. The made from scratch rolls and homemade butter were delicious as well but the best was the triple chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting. One bite of it and Mimi raved about it the entire time she was in town. She offered Mrs. Jackson a job as head chef at her mansion but Mrs. Jackson had turned her down despite the sizable yearly salary she offered.

One year's salary was probably fives times more than what the elderly landlord had made in her lifetime. But Mrs. Jackson didn't care about the money. She had lived in that house since her wedding day 50 plus years ago and certainly wasn't leaving it now. Mrs. Jackson told my Mimi that she was meant to stay in that house until she died and take care of the downtrodden who rented her rooms. Mimi thought Mrs. Jackson was insane. Mrs. Jackson felt the same way about Mimi.

I made my way up the last staircase and unlocked the door to my room. I set the strange package on my desk and grabbed my heavy jacket. I was supposed to be on my way to work already but got distracted by the mail. I locked the door and ran down the stairs to make up time. I only had 15 minutes to make a twenty-minute walk. If I was late again, Charlie might actually fire me this time. I certainly couldn't pay my rent if that happened.

It was Saturday morning before I even thought about the package again. Working second shift and then walking back home meant I usually fell asleep before I even got my pajamas on most nights. Probably because I had to be up by 7am every weekday for my classes and then at work all evening 5 nights a week. Saturday was my only day off from both places and it was laundry and cleaning day.

After starting my first load of laundry, I went back to my room to clean and saw the forgotten package on the corner of the desk. I must have shoved it out of the way when I was working on my essay on Thursday. The one night I had off from the store during the week was all spent getting homework for the following week done. I was usually so exhausted I just plopped onto the chair and shoved everything out of the way so I had room for my books and notes.

I made my bed and set the package in the middle of it. I studied the wrapping and handwriting for a bit and then undid the tape holding the wrapping on. Inside was a shoebox with a designer name that was one of Mimi's favorites. I chuckled thinking maybe Mimi had really sent my care package this way even knowing there was something wrong with the whole situation. I lifted the corner of the box and saw a metal box inside with a lock on top of it.

I grabbed my cell phone and called Mimi to ask if she was teasing me with the weird package. I got her voicemail, which was odd because Mimi always picked up when I called. I had never heard her voicemail message, perfectly professional just like her, before and unease settled into my stomach as it played.

I picked up the package, wrapping and all, and took it downstairs to the kitchen where I knew Mrs. Jackson would be. The fear in my eyes must have shown because she immediately pulled out a chair and made me sit down. I set the package on the table and looked at her with tear-filled eyes. She didn't say a word, just kept patting my shoulder until I found the strength to talk. I explained about the package coming and how Mimi hadn't answered the phone when I called.

Mrs. Jackson comforted me and asked if I wanted her to open the package. I said yes and she asked if I wanted to stay in the kitchen or wait in the living room. I didn't even answer. I just stood up and walked thru the door to the living room. I sat on the couch with my heart pounding in my ears for what seemed like an eternity but was probably minutes.

The doorbell rang and Mrs. Jackson ran from the kitchen to answer it. I watched through glazed eyes and my whole body felt paralyzed. Not long after, an officer came and asked me for Mimi's address and information. I heard him on the phone calling her local police to do a welfare check. The last thing I remember before they took me to the hospital was the officer kneeling in front of me to tell me that Mimi was dead. Well, I remember hearing someone screaming as well but found out later from Mrs. Jackson that it was me.

I remained in the psych unit for three weeks, except to leave for Mimi's funeral. My father signed me out and I wasn't allowed to be alone the entire time. Mrs. Jackson was with him and they held my hands the entire time. Everyone feared that I was completely insane for the first week. Once the shock wore off and the medications kicked in, I was able to find my way back to reason.

The day I was released, my father told me that a young woman found living at my grandmother's had been arrested for murdering her. He said that ever since Mimi's visit, she had been trying to help young people who lived near her get ahead by renting them rooms in her house for low rents. The police had found over twenty former tenants from the six months prior to her death that had enjoyed the love and attention she gave them on top of helping them by charging such low rent.

The last known tenant before the murder, besides the killer, informed police that he had only left a week prior to Mimi's death because the killer had given him an eviction notice supposedly from Mimi. He said it was odd because everything he had received before had been typed, and the eviction was in scrawling old-person handwriting. The police believe the woman who killed her had likely made my grandmother write the eviction letter and address the package to me, along with writing a letter that Mrs. Jackson found under the metal air-tight box inside the shoe box.

Then she killed Mimi and dismembered her before packaging up the boxes and mailing it from the local post office. I never went to the trial and have avoided all coverage, so I don't know what was in the box or written in the letter. Mrs. Jackson allowed me to stay in her house rent-free for two years until I graduated college. I visited her every spring and fall until she passed away ten years later. For every visit, she made me the triple chocolate cake my Mimi adored.

We would laugh about how Mimi had talked when she visited and avoided anything to do with her death. Until my last visit with her just weeks before her death. Mrs. Jackson was still going strong at 78-years-old and as usual, she had the cake and tea ready when I got to her house. We talked about Mimi, and for some reason that day, she brought up Mimi's death. We both cried and, as I was leaving, she told me that she wished for years that Mimi had never laid eyes on her.

I must have looked confused because she hugged me and said "Your Mimi would never have tried to help the downtrodden if not for me. It is my greatest regret that I ever put the idea in her head. It lost you the great Mimi that she was." I hugged her and felt an amazing peace spread through me.

"I never once blamed you, Mrs. Jackson. I always thought that it was amazing that you changed my Mimi from a woman who only thought of luxury and possessions to a woman who wanted to be like you. Never let the notion that it was your fault pass through your mind again. You changed many lives for the better, including the twenty or so young folks Mimi helped before she died."

I left not knowing that it would be my last visit with Mrs. Jackson. A few weeks later, I received a package with some mementos from Mrs. Jackson, along with her obituary, from her children. They thanked me for loving their mother as much as their own children did. I cried myself to sleep that night before having the most incredible dream. Mimi and Mrs. Jackson were together on the other side, eating triple chocolate cake, and laughing about Mimi's visit just as Mrs. Jackson and I had done for years. I miss them both but I know all is well.