March 15, 2013

  • In My Next Life

    In my next life, I'm going to be the one who strikes terror into the hearts of ordinary mortals. I have fumbled through the world just about long enough.

    Today is Nancy's birthday. I am retired. This means I often have a lot of time in which to do those few mandatory things I have left to do. I was doing just fine around the beginning of March. I had a few thoughts collected. I had a list somewhere. Everything was on schedule. And then Jenell's family started dropping into hospital beds like flies and I had to pack and drive to Alabama and stay with my Dad and read novels and host killer bronchial bugs for a week and then I had to drive back and I had to worry about the rental car all that time and get it back to its rightful owners, I took a day to breathe and then had to teach art to fourth graders, took another day to rest and find my cast-off clothes and: it was Nancy's birthday. Boom. Just like that.

    I planned to drive into Kazoo to Boonzaaiers and appropriate a chocolate mocha cake with "Happy Birthday Nancy" written in frosting on the top.

    Last night Nancy said, "Would you be horribly offended if I made my own cake?"

    I admitted I would not. I did say, "Does this mean you don't want a cake from Boonzaaiers?"

    Well, no. It didn't mean that.

    So I was fine right up to that point, right? I had it covered. I had had all of the right thoughts in all of the right places, I answered the question appropriately, and somehow I managed to cancel her birthday cake.

    And then I thought, "What if there aren't any cakes at Boonzaaiers? What if they're closed or have gone out of business or there's been a death in the family and all of the bakers have retired?"

    I went to Boonzaaiers once last fall and there was a note in the door: LUCKY YOU, YOU GOT HERE--WE WON'T BE HERE TOMORROW AND WE PLAN TO BE GONE FOR THE NEXT MONTH. TRY NOT TO GET ANY OLDER WHILE WE'RE GONE. I've forgotten where they went for that month or why but the point is...they do that.  Close down the store and disappear without warning.

    So I was a wreck, driving from Three Rivers to Kalamazoo because I couldn't remember exactly when it was they closed for a month and I don't know very much about the Dutch or their holiday schedules and my success, as a partner and a grown adult, is only as good as my last birthday cake.

    Luckily, Boonzaaiers was open. There were not a lot of people crowded into the lobby. I was able to locate one small and one large cake in the display case of exactly the kind I wanted. I released a breath.

    And a woman behind the counter turned to me and said, "How can I help you?"

    I said, "I need a chocolate mocha birthday cake."

    And she said, "Today?"

    How many days in advance do you have to order a Boonzaaiers cake? Should I have called last week? The beginning of the month? How was I supposed to know there's a back-order system for birthday cakes?

    At MOST it was 1:15 pm: What the hell? Is there a cut-off, and if so, when was it? How God-damned complicated  can this be???

    I pointed timidly at the small chocolate mocha cake in the display counter. I was afraid to speak. I swear to God she had singled me out with a long-handled mixing spoon that was probably loaded.

    "What do you want on it?" she asked.

    "Happy Birthday, Nancy."

    "Spell 'Nancy'."

    I did.

    She disappeared with my cake. A few minutes later she came back and ordered me to pay her, which I did.

    She fielded some unreasonable demand from another patron in the lobby.

    I stood there. Trying to look small.

    I am not small.

    I don't look small.

    A few minutes later she came back, handed me a box and she said, "Best cake in the world."

    I like them well enough: Nancy would probably agree with her. I chose not to make that distinction just then for that exact woman.

    So apparently you can buy one the same day your order it and walk out of the store with it in hand, although it apparently doesn't hurt if you look like you're really, really sorry you didn't plan better.

    For all I know, the woman has a dry sense of humor and failed to notice me squirming under the point of her rapier wit. What I do know is that if I have to come back, I'm coming back as the woman who can terrifying people for trying to buy a birthday cake. Like the dog trainer in Riley's class who snapped, "Sit" and immediately had fourteen dogs and eleven people sitting on the floor mat. I'm going to try it out and see if it works. 

    If it does, the next thing I'm going to do is go find Annie.