The Cake

Flash Fiction

The Cake

I decided to make a cake. Sounded simple? Well, not so simple for me. I am a woman, but being a woman does not automatically make you a cook.

I grew up with an older sister, and three after me. Parents both worked, so my sister got the job of cooking. Mom taught her everything she knew. Nan loved cooking, learning more every chance she got.

Being younger, I did not learn cooking. Suited me! It didn’t sound fun. But having three even younger siblings, guess who got ‘clean up’… The two things I liked about clean up were: I didn’t have to cook, and Nan wasn’t standing there telling me what to do!

Grown up, married, I decided to surprise my Hubbie with a cake! (He loves cooking.) How hard could it be? Apparently, harder than I thought. I thought I was following the directions, but apparently cooking directions have their own vocabulary. I did not know that.

At one point I got my neighbor on the phone to tell me what some of it meant. ‘Whip the batter’ for one! But before she could help me much her kids got home from school. She wished me luck, and hung up, laughing I might add…

I finally got it into the oven! I had frosting (store bought) and thought I’d add the little flag we got at our favorite restaurant, on top of the frosting, to make it cute. However, when the timer rang, I pulled it out and found I’d forgotten to turn the oven on…

John walked in, he looked at the mess, looked at the cake pans, and then couldn’t stop laughing. He finally said two things. First, “I love you!” and second “Let’s go out to dinner!”

Fifty-two years now, John still cooks.