Cake Time by Siel Ju

Author:Siel Ju
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Hen Press
Published: 2017-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

The next morning, though, when Matt’s alarm went off at five for his opening shift, I woke up gloomy and angry. Our stopping in at the bar in itself seemed a juvenile act, embarrassing in its desperation to interact as an adult couple. When Matt dropped me off I dozed for a bit, then went to Bagel Nosh to try working there; I’d seen a new “Free WiFi” sign on the door. I hid irritably behind my laptop, but no one was paying me any attention anyway. Only a few people were in the place, all older men in their late fifties or sixties, each sitting at his own table, sopping up runny egg yolk with bagel bits and watching golf on the TV. They looked like they’d been divorced for years, comfortably resigned. I imagined their female counterparts, how they must be eating similar meals, but alone in their homes. I could easily imagine myself as one of these women, a thought that troubled me. Blake would never end up here in middle age. He’d find a willing new woman right away, younger and more docile. And Matt—he wouldn’t get divorced. His wife would outlive him, plan a warm memorial service where friends would weep genuinely and fondly then leave comforted, with a sense they’d communed, if briefly, with the delicate beauty of the cycle of life.

I thought about what Erin would say if she knew I was seeing Matt. These days she was too often in her sullen post-hookup, bubble-burst mood to be happy for me. I imagined myself breaking the news in different tones: an excited whisper, a matter-of-fact summary, a preoccupied aside. In each case her reaction would be exactly the same, a tight smile, vaguely tinged with jealousy. I pictured her nodding with that forced grin as I talked about him, then saying something benign on the surface but cutting beneath, something like, “So when’s the next keg party,” before turning back to her drink. I let myself feel the sting of this remark, feel it spread from my center like a thick fog. This made me feel closer to Matt, united against a common adversary. I felt protective of him again, his amiable sincerity.

I ate my hash browns. They tasted greasier than usual, like they were cooked in old oil. The TV was showing highlights from the US Open. A golfer who had Blake’s posture took a big swing. The ball launched, and the camera cut to the golfer’s face, showed how it shifted into a satisfied smirk even before the ball started its downward arc.

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