There’s Chocolate cake in my fridge and a smile in my heart. All night, since my dinner party, and all the laughs, and hugs and goodbyes, I have had my mind fixed on that cake. It’s chocolatey goodness called to me, but I couldn’t answer, because there were dishes to wash, and laundry to do, and floors to mop. Then around three o’clock in the morning, my inner healthy self–the one that made me eat apples and carrots all week, and work out the morning after my eye surgery–told me to go to bed.
So I went to bed, and dreamed glorious, frosting-topped dreams about the chocolate cake in my fridge. They were magical and freeing in a way that sometimes, only sex with a stranger can be. And I found myself smiling and thinking about what it would be like to eat that whole piece of chocolate cake, spoonfuls at a time, standing in my kitchen, in sublime silence, with nobody there to help me.
And I also worried. Would the cake dry out in the fridge? I had no choice, the ants are my enemies, and they’ll eat all my favorite foods if I let them. Look how they attacked my honey last week! I couldn’t give them the chance to have my cake too.
This bliss/agony kept me asleep well into the afternoon, and when I finally awoke, it was time to get down to business. There was still chocolate cake in my fridge, but now I was perturbed. Should I go straight to it, or should I eat left-overs first, then have cake for dessert. Tea or no tea? Coffee, perhaps? What was the proper accompaniment to a breakfast cake?
No, no coffee. The only coffee I drink is the Organo Gold Mocha coffee, and I’ve been out of that since Boxing Day. (Don’t get me started. I have thrown many fits about this to my husband, who spent the last day of the year, racing around Kingston trying to score me some more, before telling me I sounded like a crack-addict and forcing me into withdrawal….but anyway….)
Eventually, I settled on having a proper meal of kibbehs and hummus, before delving into my destiny. The wait only made it that much sweeter, when I peeled back the plastic wrap, and let my spoon sink deep into the richness before me. The aroma was intoxicating. Slowly, I closed my eyes and placed the spoon into my mouth. First thought: This is devastatingly moist. The fridge did not best me this time! (And neither did the ants). Second thought: I MUST have just one more spoonful, before I tuck this back into the fridge and wait until later to have a proper piece. (“It’s not okay to have dessert for breakfast,” lectures my healthy self).
One more time, I dug my teaspoon into the chocolatey goodness in front of me, and brought it to my mouth.
First thought: Love. This is absolutely, 100% love. Second thought: I am going to undo all the good I did this week by eating carrots and apples. Third thought: I should throw this cake straight in the garbage. I cannot risk eating the entire thing! Fourth thought: This cake was baked by my pregnant friend, who could literally go into labor ANY SECOND. How dare I even think of throwing away anything that she made, at this very fragile time of her life. This cake could very well be the LAST pastry she made before becoming a second time mom. That means something. That is the absolute essence and beauty of life. Who am I to discard that legacy with such flippancy? Here was this very PREGNANT woman, who took time out of her extremely exhausting experience of CREATING A HUMAN LIFE, to bake a chocolate cake for me!
Fifth thought: Even at nine months pregnant, my friend still weighs less than me.
Hmmm.
That is the thought that stops me. Unfortunately, I was mid-way through my third spoonful by that point.
So I tucked the cake away, back in the fridge, safely wrapped in plastic, until later after my run.
And then……it will be mine. All of it.
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La Dolce Vita 