Cupcake

by Mariah Jones

  Dave didn’t let me finish. “It’s just dinner,” he said. “No lifetime commitment.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. He was not your typical kind of attractive. He was tall, with spectacles, closely-cropped red hair and freckles. There was something adorable about the expectant way he was looking at me. It reminded me of the way the animals at a petting zoo look at you when you have a carrot in your hand.

  “Okay,” I reluctantly agreed.

  “Great,” he said, looking relieved. “When and where should I pick you up?”

  Considering I just met this guy, I didn’t really want to give him my number or my home address, so I gave him the address to Cupcake and asked him to meet me there on Friday night at six. He gave me his number just in case anything happened and I needed to cancel.

  All the way back to my bakery I regretted saying yes. The thought of being stuck in a car with that much Brut cologne was mind-boggling. Would I be able to breathe? Would I have to hang my head out the window like a dog? What if he expected a second date? Suddenly the weigh-in the following week was not the upcoming terror of my future.

  Chapter Five

  The Great Date Debate

  Friday morning proved to be busier than I expected. I met with two couples who had scheduled consultations to discuss the designs for their wedding cakes, and also took on two walk-ins who wanted wedding cakes as well. That would mean four designer cakes that had to be ready by Monday morning, and the supplies I ordered after the meeting on Wednesday still hadn’t come in.

  Jenny kept staring at me all morning. She would look away when I looked up, trying not to be obvious, but I could feel her eyes on me. “What?” I finally asked, a bit harsher than I meant to.

  After she finished stacking the baking sheets she had just dried, Jenny turned to face me. “Are you okay?” she asked in her typical, tiny voice.

  I shrugged. “Stressed about the shipment being late,” I said matter-of-factly.

  Jenny shook her head in disagreement. “I’ve seen you stressed over late orders lots of times before. There’s something else bothering you,” she said.

  For being someone that society labeled as “slow,” she certainly could be perceptive, annoyingly so in fact.

  Covering the dough I had been kneading and placing it in the fridge, I put my hands on the still-floured counter in front of me and leaned over until my hair fell forward covering my face, as though the gesture would save me from the embarrassment of what I was about to confide. “I have a date tonight,” I said in the lowest tone I could muster.

  “A date?” Jenny squealed with excitement.

  “It’s nothing serious. Just a friend thing,” I told her, lifting my head back up.

  “Is that why you’re so nervous?” she teased.

  “Nervous about what?” Katie asked, walking into the middle of the conversation.

  I tried in vain to shoot a look of caution to Jenny, but it was too late.

  “Darcy has a date,” Jenny exclaimed immediately.

  My sister looked shocked. “Really? You didn’t tell me you were thinking of dating again! That’s great! Tell me all about him. What’s his name? Where did you meet him?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” I began.

  ***

  The day progressed nicely. My fears over the completion of the designer cakes were alleviated when the delivery truck showed up just before noon. It was a busy day for sales and thankfully, dealing with the customers kept my mind mostly occupied and kept my sister and Jenny quiet on the subject of my upcoming date.

  Normally the bakery doesn’t close until five, but I decided to shut down early that day so I could get ready for my evening with Dave the cologne guy. Katie was locking the front door for me when she pointed out a box truck in front of the retail space next to mine. “Looks like you’re getting neighbors finally,” she said.

  “Huh,” I said, not particularly interested. The last neighbors I’d had were a group of teenagers who sold beanbags and beanie hats and other Bob Marley related things. They always played their music at ear-busting volume and I was more than happy when they went out of business. I hoped it wouldn’t be a repeat this time around. “I guess it had to happen eventually. I wonder what it’s going to be.”

  Katie shrugged, turning back to face me. “What are you going to wear tonight?”

  My stomach lurched. “Actually, I have been thinking about calling and cancelling. I’m just not sure he’s my type.” I told her.

  My sister has this way of arching her left eyebrow when she looks at me. It can make me feel uncomfortable even when she doesn’t say a word.

  “Don’t give me the eyebrow,” I said.

  “What eyebrow? I was just surprised to hear that you have a ‘type’ now. Weren’t you the one who dated that guy who had to be home by eleven every night because he lived with his parents still?”

  I hate it when she does the eyebrow and then follows it with a valid point.

  “He was twenty-two,” I reminded her. “It’s not like he was forty and living with his mom at the Bates Motel.”

  “Alright already, so why do you think you and Doug won’t have a good time?” she asked.

  “Dave. His name is Dave. I don’t want to say any more about this Katie. It would be better if I just called him and canceled. I’m just too busy to date right now,” I replied, hoping the answer would be enough to satisfy her.

  “I know you,” Katie said. “I know you better than anyone else does. You can tell me all you want to that you just aren’t ready, but I know better. I think you should either go on the date, or admit to yourself the real reason why you don’t want to go with him.”

  “And what is that reason, Dr. Kate?” I asked her sarcastically.

  “Because you don’t want to admit it, but you aren’t attracted to heavy men,” she shot back at me.

  “You are unbelievable!” I said with feigned disgust.

  “You don’t have to be ashamed of it. I don’t like really tall guys. Everyone likes something different. You don’t like heavyset guys. It’s okay. But I still think you should go on the date. If for no other reason than just because it’s too late to cancel on the poor guy,” Katie said.

  I was flustered. I was caught. How, one might ask, being overweight myself could I judge a potential mate based on the size of their body? I really had no defense. She was just plain right. I have never been attracted to heavy guys. “You’re right,” I finally conceded. “I’ve never been attracted to an overweight man. I feel so awful for admitting it.”

  Katie smiled at me. “Out of curiosity, what kind of man is your ‘type’?

  I printed out the final receipt from the cash register and gave it some thought. “I don’t know. I always just figured I would know when I saw him,” I said.

  When I turned around, Katie’s eyes were glued to something outside. I walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder to see what she was so fascinated by.

  “You may want to take a look,” she said. “I think I may have just found your ‘type’ of man.”

  “What are you talking about, I-,” my sentence slid off into the blue oblivion. Walking down the ramp from the back of the box truck we noticed earlier, was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. He was about six feet tall, with sandy golden brown hair that fell in his eyes. It was the kind of crazy, carefree look that took stylists hours to create. He had an angular, blemish-free face with a boyish smile that instantly made me forget to breathe. He wore a tight muscle tee which showed every contour of his incredible upper body. The blue jeans he sported looked as if they had seen a lot of use, and yet he still looked sophisticated wearing them. I couldn’t see his eyes as he was wearing black sunglasses, but something told me they would be equally as incredible as the rest of him.

  “I wonder if he’s the new owner,” Katie said in a tone I hadn’t heard her use since we were in high school.

  “I doubt it. He’s probably from the moving company o
r something,” I said once I remembered how to breathe again.

  “Well in that case,” Katie said, “enjoy it while it lasts.”

  I jabbed my finger into Katie’s ribs. “That’s the kind of man who would ask you out, not me,” I said seriously.

  My sister rolled her eyes at me, but deep down, she knew it was true. “I am a happily married woman and you know it. I could stand here with you all evening watching this but I have to get to the daycare, and you…you have a date to get ready for.”

  “Oh. Oh no, what time is it?” I asked, unsure how long I had been standing there staring at the poor unaware man unloading the truck.

  “Relax,” Katie said. “It’s only four-thirty. You have plenty of time to get ready.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t know where my head is at today,” I said.

  Katie watched intently as the man bent over to pick up a box. “I do,” she said.

  “Wish me luck,” I begged her.

  “You won’t need it,” she said as she grabbed her purse and slipped through the back door.

  I glanced outside one last time and then thought about my impending date. “I hope you’re right,” I called back to her, but she was already gone.

  Chapter Six

  The Date

  I rushed home to get changed and do my makeup, which went a lot faster than I expected it to. I settled rather easily on a red, silk blouse and a simple black skirt. While doing my make-up, I thought of the compliment Dave had given me on my eyes and decided to avoid eye-makeup to play them down. After all, I was doing my best to keep this totally platonic.

  As I put on my earrings, I thought of the box truck guy again. Knock it off! I told myself. There is no way a man like that would ever look twice at a woman like you, I chastised. Besides, what kind of woman wants a laborer for a moving company?

  I stared at myself in the mirror for a while. It seemed odd to me that the idea of dating had not been a serious thought in my mind for such a long time. It had been two years since Andrew Clark and I had broken it off. He was my first real love, and for a long time the man I was convinced I would marry. It might have even worked out if we hadn’t been in such different places in our lives.

  Andrew was intelligent and charming, average in height and only slightly overweight. He was the type of man I felt evenly matched with, as he wasn’t astoundingly gorgeous, but rather plain looking. He had a big heart and loved to help others, and it was his constant trips to far off places doing missionary work for the church he loved that eventually led to our demise. He felt he had a vocation. He left for school to become a priest.

  It was hard to let go of what we had, because in most ways we were perfect for each other. The last I heard from him he was in Costa Rica and not planning on returning to the states for the next few years. In some ways I missed the quiet nights when the two of us would watch movies or just sit and talk. Still, I wondered even if I met the perfect guy, if I was ready to give my heart away a second time. Maybe it was time to start getting out of my shell again.

  I spent a few minutes in front of the full-length mirrors on my closet doors, looking at my body from this angle and that, trying to figure out what fifty pounds less would look like on me. Groaning, I remembered the upcoming public weigh-in at Waistline Watchers. Is it an embarrassment tactic? Does getting on the scale in front of everyone keep you from gaining weight because you know everyone is going to find out if you do at the next meeting?

  I considered how disappointed Katie might be if I gave up this as I had given up the gym and decided I would go to the next meeting anyway. At least so far no one at Waistline Watchers had seen me naked.

  Looking at the time I realized it was twenty to six. I had to get back to Cupcake to meet Dave. Yep. No one at Waistline Watchers had seen me naked, and I was for damn sure not going to let that change tonight.

  ***

  Dave arrived promptly at one minute to six, carrying an armful of daisies and a box of chocolates. Didn’t I meet this guy at a weight control group? I wondered as I opened the door for him. Glancing outside, I took mental note that the box truck was gone. Bye-bye sexy mover guy. A part of me curled up and died. Okay, I’m getting side-tracked.

  When I let Dave into the shop, I was pleasantly surprised to find out he had decided against egregious amounts of Brut cologne. Actually, I didn’t detect any. “You look beautiful,” he said genuinely.

  “You look very nice as well,” I complimented in return. For being a big guy, he actually did look rather dapper. He wore a tan suit with a darker brown vest underneath and a handsome, chocolate-colored tie. His shoes were dark brown leather and shining even in the dimness of the half-lit bakery.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, thrusting the chocolates and flowers out toward me. “These are for you.”

  “That’s very sweet. They are lovely,” I replied, looking around the bakery for something to use as a vase. A stainless steel pitcher was the only thing I found that would hold the long stems.

  “My car is out front whenever you are ready,” Dave prompted kindly. “I made reservations for us at Rosa Nera.”

  “Wow,” I commented. “The last time I tried to get reservations there I was told it would be two weeks out.”

  “Yeah,” Dave agreed. “I kinda cheated. My sister owns the place.”

  I laughed in spite of my resolve to act disinterested. He had a pretty good personality.

  Rosa Nera was absolutely beautiful inside. Decorated to resemble a traditional Sicilian bistro, each table had a hand-crafted hanging lamp above it, lit with the flame of a single candle. The atmosphere was light and enjoyable and soft music played in the background.

  We were seated in a booth across the room from the piano. Ivy wound up the walls near each table and spiraled up to the ceiling. It was as lovely as if we were really dining in Italy, or at least having never been there, it is what I would have imagined being in Italy would be like.

  I spent a few moments admiring the intricate looping pattern on the dinnerware before me. Everything in the restaurant seemed to match so perfectly. Kind of like Dave’s suit; I entertained the thought briefly that he may have had a hand in decorating the place.

  “Would you like to start with some wine?” Dave asked me.

  “I’m not much of a drinker actually,” I told him, hoping not to sound rude or ungrateful.

  “Me either,” he admitted. “I had a bit of a problem with alcohol a number of years ago. I don’t anymore but I try to steer clear of it now.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh,” I replied, feeling a little uncomfortable.

  “How long have you had the bakery?” he asked.

  I was happy the subject had changed to a lighter matter. “Just over two years. I love it. I couldn’t ask for a better business or better customers.”

  Dave smiled. “I lost my wife two and a half years ago in an auto accident. Before that we had a book store together over on 8th avenue. I gave it up last year when there was a downturn in the market. It was ok with me. We had a good run with the place for 12 years before Angela passed away, and it never felt the same after that.”

  Some part of me wanted to hug this big teddy-bear of a man. The rest of me wanted to get up and run away. I didn’t know what to do, so I resumed admiring the dinnerware.

  The dinner meal was lovely and exquisitely crafted. I asked Dave during the meal if his sister was the chef. He told me she was and I asked him to send her my compliments when he spoke to her. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. She’s on her way over right now. I smiled, looking up to greet the amazing chef who had prepared such an incredible meal.

  “Janie,” Dave said with great affection, “I would like you to meet Darcy.”

  I looked up to see one of the orange ladies from the gym standing before me in a white chef’s uniform. “Hello. Your food is outstanding,” I said politely, although my internal dialog was something like this: oh dear heaven please don’t let her recognize me. Oh please. Oh boy.
Oh no. I wonder if there is enough space to climb under this table oh please tell me she doesn’t remember or I will die right here in the middle of this place.

  If she recognized me at that point there was nothing in her face. Dave and I danced a couple of dances after the visit with his sister and had an equally delicious dessert. The night nearly went off perfectly, neither of us having a tremendous amount to say, but not really feeling uncomfortable after we’d had the chance to settle in for a bit.

  When we got ready to leave, Janie walked us to the door and hugged her brother. As she was leaning over to kiss me on the cheek as she had done with many of her other customers, she whispered good-naturedly in my ear “I hardly recognized you with your clothes on.” I felt the blush begin in my toes and spread all the way to my face in a matter of seconds. They say you make your own luck in life. Why did no one ever give me the recipe?