by Leetta Angel
The Groom’s Cake
Leetta Jackson Angel
Copyright 2012 Leetta Jackson Angel
She copied the recipe out of her cookbook slowly and carefully.
1 pound of butter
5 pounds of all-purpose flour
5 pounds of sugar
Baking soda
Baking powder
Real vanilla flavoring
2 gallons of whole milk (red cap)
1-5 pound bag of powdered sugar
2 packages of Philly cream cheese
She absent-mindedly chewed on the pencil’s end as she looked over the list. She was certain she was missing something – some all important ingredient that would not come to her. As she continued to stare at her list, she finally decided that it didn’t matter. She hoped the trip to the store would jog her memory. She folded the paper list four times and slid it into her pocket.
She went to the counter and poured herself a cup of strong coffee. After adding two sugars and a generous amount of creamer, she walked to the front door and easily swung it aside. As she walked to the swing at the end of the porch, she surveyed the hollow that lay below her home. Most old folks referred this particular time as the dead of the winter. She knew better than that – death could come at any time, and often did, when it was least expected. She sat on the swing and pulled her knee-length denim jacket closer around her. She sipped the coffee and watched the steam rise off the pond across the road. She would get through this day one way or the other.
She heard her son moving around his room. His 22 year old body was clumsy as it moved from the small youth-sized bunk beds to the closet and back again. She knew he was dressing for the day. She could see in her mind what he would look like at the service. His straight tall back would be enveloped in the dark navy blue of his church suit. He would sit silently and listen to the words of the family and friends that would gather there today to celebrate with him the life he was leaving behind. His father would be sitting there on the front row, proud as punch, with his dark hair and green eyes, seeking out his son’s smile. Jack would smile at his father. He would laugh with his friends; he would be good-natured about the teasing he was bound to receive. She knew his eyes would be dancing with excitement. She knew she should be happy about the marriage of her only child. Lord knew, she loved the girl like she was her own. But the day felt gloomy to her, cold and dreary, and sad. While Jack celebrated his new life and his new family, she would mourn the life she was losing when he kissed his bride later this week.
She would no longer be the important woman in his life. She would always be his mother. He would always love her and respect her. But he would not live in her house after this day. Her heart broke a little when she thought of that. Her home would become an empty, unfamiliar place to her and she would have to get to know it again without him there. She was grateful that Jack’s father would be there to stumble around in the dark with her. But somehow she knew the life that she had known, loved and protected, would disappear as his car left the community center with his new bride in tow.
She leaned back into the swing and sighed. She wondered how long she would feel the ghost of Jack lingering in his room, stumbling into the bathroom in the early morning, coming in late at night. Would she still lie in bed, awake, waiting to hear his key turn in the door? Would she still have his supper plate in the oven warming for him while he toiled over his books and projects at school? Who would she live for now?
She finished her coffee and walked inside the house. She could hear Jack talking to himself like he did every other day, listing out loud the things he was cataloging in his mind. She was certain that his deep melodic voice would linger long after he left their lives. She was certain that she would hear his hearty laugh as she mixed her cheeses and butters. She wondered how it would feel to know that her baby was not coming home again.
She walked down the hallway and peeked inside his cracked door. He was sitting, half-dressed, intently staring at the screen of his computer. He was reviewing the statistics of the project he was currently working on, figuring out in his mind whether or not the cost would be worth the benefit. His hand moved through his hair of its own accord, pushing back the chestnut curls that gathered around his ears. She cleared her throat and he turned around to look at her. He smiled that dazzling smile of his and asked her again if she really wanted to bake the cake? She said of course, but in her heart she would rather go lie in bed and cry for a few days. He smiled at her again and teased her when he saw the tears standing in her eyes.
“You’re not going to be weepy are you, Mom?” Jack questioned her with his deep, soulful eyes.
“Of course not,” she replied, wiping at her eyes with a tissue. He smiled again and she went out of the doorway to the kitchen. She had put this off until she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to go to the store now or she wouldn’t have the time to prepare Jack’s groom’s cake.
She walked over to her car and saw her keys lying on the dashboard. She slipped inside the station wagon and grabbed the keys. Her arms felt heavy today and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She pushed the key into the ignition and turned her car over and into life. As her engine hummed, she pushed the play button on her CD player. The melody came crawling out of the speakers. Clair De Lune by Debussy. It seemed appropriate for a wedding rehearsal.
She drove to the main road and pointed her car towards the local Walmart. She knew they would have most, if not all, of the things on her list. She didn’t have time to waste on looking for cheaper prices. It felt sacrilegious to her to comparison shop on her son’s wedding day. He deserved the best of everything and so did his bride. She thought of the way the girl’s hair fell into a wave across her shoulders. The girl was a little thing, but she wasn’t dainty. She enjoyed working with the animals as much as Jack’s mom did and she had a special place in her heart for cats. That characteristic had pretty much sealed the deal for Jack’s mother. Her beauty and obvious devotion to his son charmed Jack’s father. She was a good girl, not given to bouts of temper and she was quite smart. Jack had loved her since high school. Just as his mother had predicted, Jack was a one-woman man. And his bride-to-be was his one-woman. Jack’s mom smiled at that thought as she pulled into the Walmart parking lot.
She picked up the wallet she had put on the passenger seat and then pushed the car keys into her pocket. She opened the door to the car and stepped outside into a different world. This world hummed with the energy of everyone there, people rushing to purchase groceries, ladies grabbing supper fixings for the night’s meal while stealing minutes from their lunch break. The parking lot was mostly full. She walked inside the store and immediately pulled out her list. She took one of those small baskets and placed it across her forearm. She looked down at the first item and began to make her way to the dairy case.
She placed the butter, milk and cream cheese into the basket. As she walked towards the staples aisle with flour and sugar at the ready, she hummed Claire De Lune to herself. She was lost in her thoughts and was not interested in being found. She picked up the sugars, the flour, the vanilla, and the baking soda and powder. Still, it seemed like she was missing something important that she needed to make the cake. She stood still in the aisle and looked around at the display, hoping the ingredient would make itself magically appear to her mind and hand. The cake needed something to make it tasty, sweet and spicy. Something that made his future life come alive on his tongue. And suddenly she remembered – cinnamon and nutmeg. She looked at the shelve full of spices and saw the cinnamon sticks and the nutmegs in small cylindrical bottles. She picked them up and placed them into her basket. She walked to th
e self-checkout and swiped her card. She placed her purchases in the bags and moved to the car quickly. It had begun to drizzle rain again. A winter wedding was a frosty affair. She hoped their hearts would be warm enough to keep them from the cold.
She placed the bags in the car and key in the ignition. The car roared to life and she sat for a moment looking out the window as the drizzle became more like snowflakes as it came to a stop on her windshield. She turned up the heat and leaned over to open the glove box on the car. She pulled out the pack of cigarettes and lit one without thinking. These were her emergency cigarettes. She always had a pack of menthols stashed away for times when she needed to think. This