Let Them Eat Cake

by Sandra Byrd

  I noticed I’d left the icebreakers and pencils from the Impact Group on the passenger floor. An empty water bottle rolled around in the back. Dan graciously ignored the mess. I wondered if he was a truly a pressed-pants kind of guy.

  “Sharing your bread. Like the little boy with the loaves and fishes,” he said.

  I looked at him. He’d referenced a story from the Bible! Tanya would be extremely impressed.

  We parked, and he leaped out and came around to open my door. “No excuse not to be a gentleman just because you had to drive,” he said. I could tell he felt embarrassed about the whole thing.

  “No worries,” I said.

  Ribbons of walking paths spooled throughout the campus, some of the prettiest winding around old brick buildings and gardenlike corridors.

  “Did you go here?” I asked, waving my arm to indicate the university.

  “Yeah,” he said. He talked about his college years, and they sounded like mine—a lot of fun, friends, and painful lessons.

  The cherry trees were perfect. Delicate clouds of pale pink blooms swirled around the trunks of each tree. When the wind blew, a delicate shower of petals drifted down on and between us. It felt as sweet as it smelled.

  We talked about my brother and Leah, about law school, and what Dan did now.

  “I went into copyright law for two reasons. One, because the firm offered me a job,” he said. I appreciated his candor. As a long-term job seeker, I knew what he meant. “Two,” he continued, “I love reading. Almost anything, but especially history, which leads to a lot of old books, which leads to copyright things. However, that’s not how my job’s worked out so far.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I don’t even work with book and literary issues,” he lamented. “I’m spending all my time on illegal download issues for rap groups. Big Dog and the Hedge Hog,” he smiled. “The Ping-Pong Sisters. Doctor Drivel.”

  I laughed out loud. “No way.”

  “No,” he admitted, “but almost. It’s definitely not why I went to law school.”

  We’d walked the entire loop, and dusk was settling in as we headed back toward my car. “Did you go to cooking school?” Dan asked.

  “No. I have a degree from Western in French studies.”

  “Oh,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “‘Oh.’ So I looked around for a while, tried a few things that didn’t work out. What I really love to do is bake and cook and be in an environment that allows me to do that.”

  “So you made a good fit at L’Esperance.”

  “I think so,” I said, answering the questioning tone in his statement. “I should know in the next month or two for sure.”

  We got back to the car, and I unlocked the door. We stood for a while, still talking. He was easy to talk to, and I wasn’t ready for the afternoon to end.

  “Would you like to get a bite to eat?” Dan asked. “Or rather, would you like to drive us for a bite to eat?”

  “Sure.”

  We drove to a nearby sushi bar, a kaiten-zushi bar, where the food went round and round the restaurant on cooled and heated conveyer belts. It felt like The Jetsons meets Tokyo.

  “So how does this work?” Dan said. “I have to admit, I’m more of a steak-and-potatoes guy.”

  Just like my dad. I suppressed a sigh.

  “Well, the plates go around on the conveyer belts,” I explained. “Each plate has a colored edge, and each color represents a price.” I pointed to the price guide on the wall. “You just stack your plates when you’re done eating, the waitress adds them up, and that’s how much you owe.”

  “You’re going to have to tell me what these all are,” he said as strips of fish circled us like airplanes waiting to land.

  I grabbed some easy food first. “California rolls,” I said.

  “Even I know what those are.” He relaxed. “Rice, crab, and cucumbers. Cooked crab, right?” he asked.

  I assured him that it wasn’t raw and poured soy sauce into each of the tiny dipping dishes. I dipped the roll into the soy sauce and put it in my mouth in one bite, Japanese style. Next, I chose some edamame, green soybeans zipped up in fuzzy cases, and showed Dan how to pop them out.

  I snapped open a set of chopsticks.

  “Do I have to use those?” he asked.

  “You don’t have to,” I teased. “They have trainer pairs up front for the kids.”

  “Maybe you can show me.” He handed over his pair.

  I placed a stick in his right hand, slipping it into the soft pocket between thumb and forefinger. I noticed how nicely manicured his hands were. Clean, but not fussy or metro. Then I slipped the second stick in.

  “Now, you use them like pincers,” I said, my hand over his as I tweezed a piece of salmon with them.

  I withdrew my hand so he could lift it to his mouth, but I could still feel the warm imprint of his hand in mine.

  He mastered them in five minutes, and we joked about his quick progress. Part of me wished he’d needed my hand over his just a while longer.

  I went as far as to get flash-seared tuna, my favorite, because it wasn’t truly raw but was pretty close.

  “What’s this?” Dan asked.

  I told him.

  “I like it!” he said. “I’ve never eaten sushi before. In my family, raw fish is bait.”

  After dinner, as we walked to my car, Dan said, “That was really good, Lexi. An adventure. Thanks for suggesting it.”

  Maybe he wasn’t as much like my dad as I’d thought. Dad wouldn’t have tried the seared tuna, much as I loved him.

  “Can I pay you back?” I asked. “We didn’t spend that much in gas money.”

  “No,” he said firmly.

  We chatted comfortably on the way home. He noticed my blood donor card sticking out of the visor and seemed genuinely touched when I told him why it was there.

  “My truck should be done by Monday, I hope,” he said. “I can’t afford to miss any time off next week. We’re preparing for a big case.

  We pulled up in front of his home in Ballard. He lived in a very cute condo complex near Tanya’s school. Window boxes everywhere, secured entry. I reminded myself I’d be putting down my own deposit in two weeks at l’appartement de luxe.

  “Thanks for a great evening,” Dan said, not rushing out of the car. His eyes were brown and warm, like cinnamon chocolate. “I’m really sorry about the truck breaking down.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I’m sorry about the state of my car.”

  We sat in silence for a minute or two. “You know, I have your address but not your phone number. If I want to reach you, should I just call the shop?”

  “I’ll give you my number.”

  “I don’t have any paper.”

  I pointed to the pages and pencils on the passenger floor. “You can use one of those. It’s garbage.”

  He snagged a piece of paper and scribbled my number as I dictated it. Then he got out of the car, walked toward the entrance to his condo, and waved good-bye before walking inside.

  I waved back and drove away, replaying the night in my head—smiling, then worrying, then wondering why I even cared if I liked Luc so much. And I did.

  Dan hadn’t said he’d call. He asked how to find me if he wanted to call. Like there was a decision to be made.

  Maybe he’d prefer someone like Leah, a lawyer like himself. Maybe he was way out of my league after all, like Greg had been.

  Still. We’d laughed a lot and had an awfully fun time.

  I wondered what the future held.

  Ce que trois personnes savent est public.

  It is no secret that is known to three.

  You first.” I sipped my latte and leaned back into the soft coffee-shop armchair. The room buzzed with the happy hum of the after-work and after-school crowds and the trainlike whistle of the espresso machines. Tanya and I were trying to get some girl time before Steve came by to go to dinner with us.

  “Well, we t
alked, and it went okay,” Tanya said.

  “Yes, I know that much, but you said I’d get the details in person. I’m here. In person. Give me details.”

  Her relaxed smile reached her eyes, and I knew she was going to be okay.

  “We went for a nice drive. I packed a picnic. Nothing like you would have packed,” she teased, “but Subway. And that was okay.”

  “I eat Subway!” I said, defending myself against food snobbery.

  “Oh right. Let me remember when I saw that.” Tanya tapped her chin. “Oh yeah. On a field trip in eighth grade.” She swirled the coffee in her cup, returning to the more-serious subject matter. “So I explained all about the situation, and…uh…the healing and counseling.”

  “And he said…”

  “His face got kind of weird, and I thought, ‘Oh great, Jared all over again.’”

  “Nah,” I said. “Steve doesn’t have earthworm lips.”

  “Right!” Tanya blushed a little. “He said it made him really mad it had happened, and he was glad I told him, and it made me seem, well…” Her voice dropped. “Incredibly strong in his eyes.”

  “See? I hate to say it—no, I don’t. I told you so. He’s a good guy.” I sighed happily and savored the last drop of my drink.

  Tanya leaned in toward me. “Do you think I’ll ever want to make love? Even when I’m married to a good guy?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I believe it. I do.”

  “I hope so,” she said.

  “Women’s sex drives don’t peak until thirty-five or something,” I said. “I think we have some time to work it all out. Although I myself am hoping for less than a decade to a marital resolution.”

  She didn’t answer or joke, but she didn’t flinch either.

  “Why do sex issues have to be so hard? So constant?” I asked, picking at the rim of my empty cup with my fingernail. “It’s one of the reasons Greg and I broke up.”

  “Really?” Tanya said. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “You weren’t in the frame of mind to talk about it,” I reminded her.

  “What was the issue?”

  “He wanted it, and I didn’t,” I said. “Well, that’s not really true. We both wanted it, but I kept saying no. Eventually, it got tiresome and corroded all the good times. It bugged me that he kept making me say no over and over instead of using some self-control on his own. Frankly, he kept making it harder and harder for me to say no because he had some good arguments. I loved him and wanted to, and he knew it.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. Why didn’t God make the sex drive turn on at the slipping on of a wedding ring and not before?” I asked.

  After a few seconds of silence, Tanya shared some more news. “Speaking of weddings, I asked Steve to escort me to Nate and Leah’s. Your turn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “The date with Dan.”

  “Dan, Dan.” I pretended to rack my brain. “Oh! Dan!”

  She laughed. “You liked him, didn’t you?”

  I let my mind wander back to that day. “I did. More than I thought I would, actually. We laughed a lot.”

  “You’re pink,” Tanya said.

  “It’s hot in here.”

  “Did he ask for your number?”

  I continued playing with my cup. “Yeah, he took it.”

  “So what’s next? Are you guys going out again?” She smiled expectantly.

  “He hasn’t called yet.”

  “Oh.” Her voice grew quiet, then brightened with forced joviality. “Well, I read someplace that when guys say they’ll call you, a girl thinks he means before he gets home that night, whereas the guy means before he dies.”

  I thought back again. “Actually, he didn’t say he’d call me. He just took my number.”

  Tanya had a confident look. “He’ll call. Probably this week. It’s only been a few days.”

  “Yeah.”

  She stood up and waved, and I turned to see Steve standing just inside the door. I also saw his face as he spotted her, and she moved to greet him. I could see where this was going to end up, even if she couldn’t. But then, maybe she could.

  They chatted for a minute, and suddenly I felt cranky. I really didn’t want to go to dinner with the two of them.

  I opened and closed my purse twice, our secret signal to head to the bathroom together. Once we got there, she asked, “What’s up?”

  “Is it okay if I don’t go tonight?” I said. “I’ve got to open in the morning, it’s Sophie’s late day, and I’m feeling kind of PMSy.”

  “Sure, sure,” she said. “We’ll find another day soon. You’re not mad that I asked him to come, are you?”

  “No,” I said, but I was.

  Besides the PMS, it didn’t help that my best friend had a date to my brother’s wedding—as did my grandmother—but I didn’t. Tanya also had a great job and a great car. But it was the date right now that bugged me.

  I knew deep in my heart that it was representative of something else. Was I dateable? Was I desirable as a companion and a partner and a friend?

  Right now it sure didn’t seem like it.

  When I got home, my parents were out with friends. I checked my Allrecipes.com status and found good feedback on my recipes. I realized then how desperate I was for affirmation.

  Maybe if I’d given in to Greg, it would have solidified our relationship, and we’d still be together. Maybe making love early wouldn’t have been all that bad.

  I paced my room, trying to think of something to do to distract myself. Suddenly I had a great idea. I knew at least one other woman who wouldn’t be on a date tonight. Someone who needed kindness as much as I did.

  I zipped up to the Metropolitan Market and bought a small cartful of ingredients to bake something new and a small Swiss dark chocolate bar for myself.

  At home, I put some music on, preheated the oven, and started mixing ingredients. As I did, I nibbled on my chocolate, one piece at a time.

  Our black Lab, Ruby, sat at my feet, begging. Pleading with her eyes.

  “No, Ruby, I can’t give you any,” I told her as I popped another piece of chocolate in my mouth.

  She kept staring. “Why not?” she seemed to ask.

  How could she know? She thought everything I ate must be divine; all her “people food” treats were. She didn’t know that dark chocolate—even though it looked good, even though her “equals” ate it—would cause her great harm.

  I got her a pig’s ear instead, which she begrudgingly took. “You’re going to have to trust me when I say it’s not good for you, whether you understand or not.”

  “Just like sex.” The thought came from within my heart and mind.

  I turned back to the mixing bowl and sighed resignedly. “Okay, Lord, I get it,” I said.

  I’d heard it said that sex was like chocolate. While I wouldn’t know about that, I understood the lesson. I might not comprehend all the reasons it wasn’t good for me right now, but I could trust the One who’d asked me to wait. Just like Ruby had to trust me for what she didn’t fully understand.

  I blasted my CD player and rocked out to my oven. I kept the phone close to me. It was getting late for someone to call, but you never knew. He might have had to work late.

  When the cookies were cool, I ate one as a taste test. Not bad for a first try and a recipe tweak. I found the nicest tin I had in my collection and packed them. I’d take them to work in the morning.

  An hour later, I settled in bed and opened up Matthew. I started reading, really getting into it. After a few minutes, I got to the part about the boy sharing his lunch.

  I forgot to tell Tanya that Dan knew a Bible story, I thought. I stopped reading for the night and tried to fall asleep, but I kept thinking about Dan.

  Maybe he’d call tomorrow.

  I had a surprise lined up for Leah that week, and she took off work two hours early so we could preview s
ome condos together— supposedly for her and Nate.

  “Hi, be right with you,” I said as she walked into L’Esperance. I took off my apron and hung it on the peg in the back. When I entered the café again, Luc was serving my almost-sister-in-law.

  “Eh bien, here is a gift from me to you.” Luc handed her a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Merci,” Leah replied.

  “She speaks French too!” He winked and went back to the bakery.

  No, she doesn’t, I thought, strangely irritated. But I said nothing. I was sure he knew.

  “Is he always that charming to your friends?” Leah said, giggling, as we walked to the curb.

  “I haven’t noticed,” I said lightly. Maybe I should start paying closer attention.

  “How are you, anyway?” I asked, changing the subject. “End of April…not too long until the Big Day.”

  “I’m jittery!” she said. “But things are busy at work, for me and for Nate, so that keeps us occupied. And Nate’s had some headaches too.”

  “Oh, nothing new,” I said.

  “You know, I’m just guessing here,” Leah said, frowning thoughtfully, “but sometimes I think that so much is expected of Nate all the time, that when he’s sick, it’s the only time he has a reasonable excuse to be imperfect.”

  I thought about it. “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “He always was expected to be the golden boy.”

  “And you the golden girl.” Leah turned to me. “I’m not dissing your parents—I really like them—but all parents have these expectations. Look at my mom.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Detaching from anything leaves wounds.”

  “And on that cheery note,” she joked, “let’s go find a condo.”

  I stopped next to my car. “Leah, I hope it’s okay, but I just heard today that the building I’ve been waiting to get into is taking applications and deposits. The manager called me because I’ve been mooning around the place for a month or more. He’ll only hold one for me for today. Do you mind if we do that too? Plus,” I said, suddenly kind of shy, “since you’re going to be my sister, it’d be fun to share.”

  “Totally,” she said. “Lets do yours first!”

  We drove the few blocks to the building. It’s secure garage was open, and I parked on the second floor. We took an elevator to the manager’s office. I pushed the button, and he opened up.