Chocolate Cake

He was as rich and dark as a slice of bitter-sweet chocolate cake. She, as sweet as the layer of icing upon that slice of chocolate cake. A match made in heaven some would say, a modern day Ken and Barbie. Except in this story they’re known as William and Charlotte. It’s the age old tale about two hearts from opposite ends of the earth, both physically and socially, finding their way to each other. He swept her off her feet, and she gave him a safe place to land.

William, suave in demeanor with eyes contrasting even the bluest of oceans. As handsome as he was, were as dark as his demons. Demons which he locked in a box, deep inside him. His first wife passed in a tragic accident and sadly he never truly moved on. His heart held a bitterness toward her, as he felt abandon. She was his first love, and he never imagined such tragedy could strike him. This tragedy left him in a state of panic and anger. His impenetrable bubble popped in an instant with the sharp needle of reality. You see, William has money. The kind of money that makes more money, while simply sitting in a bank. William’s wealth gives him a sense of superiority, feeling as if bullet proof and tragedy proof walls surround him, both with safety and immunity.

Charlotte, olive in tone and hair as if it were made from long stranded silk, had an air about her. Light in spirit but weighted in benevolence. She had a hard life, and while poverty can harden some, it softens few. Charlotte was the few. Growing up with little money, Charlotte’s fear of what she felt was an inevitable rough life ahead of her, shaped her own shield against the imminence. Her shield crafted by forced exposure to lifestyles outside her own, and hope, mixed in with some creativity. Through many sleepless nights she climbed her way out. Charlotte cared about people, she deeply cared about people. Who they were, how they got to where they are, and where they were going… With no work experience, not even a skill, she found meaning in a bar, and not just any bar, the bar of all bars. An exclusive establishment only members can patron. And she found her meaning not through Jack and not in Jim, but through the pour.

Charlotte mastered the craft of bartending by watching her colleagues and their technique, as well as learning their unique signatures. She spoke with members, attempting to understand what made a drink worthy of such affluent lips.

On one day, a day which would change her life forever, a man sat down right in front of her. Dressed to the nines in a navy blue suit with gold cuff links. His cuff links were a sight she had never seen before. Made from gold they were molded into the shape of his initials, WR, with a single diamond imbedded on each. He fascinated her. His intense gaze which shattered every fear of inadequacy, inferiority, and intimidation, coupled with the strange sense of ease he exuded with his relaxed demeanor.

When he sat down she walked over to him, as she stepped their eyes met, both holding their stare until she was in front of him. When she got to William he smiled, leaning forward, and laying his arms on the bar top in front of him. Arms, you can’t help but want to hold onto. He took her breath and brain away, turning her thoughts to mush. As she tried to gain composure to ask him what he would like to drink, William realized Charlotte was struggling, he laughed as easily as you’d expect, and asked for a double shot of scotch with a big rock. Charlotte with red in her cheeks, nodded and poured. They exchanged pleasantries for a while, laughing and sharing stories.

An hour later, a man in a suit- similar in saunter came up to William, and pulled him away, to what appeared to be a business meeting.

Night after night and month after month, the double shot of scotch with a rock came in to that bar to see Charlotte- and he did so close to closing. He and Charlotte got to talk with little distraction. When some time had passed Charlotte finally made her move. She asked if he would like to get to know her- the her she was, when she wasn’t paid to be someone. William intrigued, said yes. After a few more months of romance William was smitten, and Charlotte was taken.

They moved in together shortly after that dinner. Charlotte had never seen such a house, and that was just one of William’s. The twenty-thousand square foot palace made her feel as if she was as small as a sprinkle atop of a slice of chocolate cake. As she got used to her new house, it began to feel like home- she settled into this life she was once frightened by. No longer a bar tender, and instead on the board of the many charities William started, Charlotte feels as if this was what she was born for. Charlotte’s address with William is, cloud 9.

As William and Charlottes relationship progressed, they were the it couple, the face Manhattan’s socialites. Page 6 had named their wedding the event of the season.

And as with any tale, there was a day that changed everything. It was the day she walked into the bar Charlotte and William met at. Charlotte had cut a deal with the bar to supply the alcohol for their soon to be nuptials. As Charlotte was creating their signature cocktail, a women sat down next to her. A woman striking in beauty, porcelain skin, baby blue eyes, long black hair, and a form fitting red dress that hugged her body in all the right places. Her beauty was bold. Charlotte turned to her and smiled, as she tended to do.

The woman said to Charlotte, “I haven’t been here in ages, and I’m here to celebrate, but what fun is a celebration, if I must celebrate alone.. Would you join me for a glass of wine?” Charlotte agreed. The mystery woman ordered a bottle of Caymus, which was Charlotte’s favorite. A wine which seems tp calm her the instant the cork pops.

The two women connect over their shared experiences from their childhoods and how they built lives for themselves, and shockingly they both did so by bartending at this very bar. The mystery woman looks at Charlotte and says, “Oh, you are the girl with the wedding of the year.” Charlotte blushing, nods. The two women chat about wedding details, and Charlotte brags about her fiancé and his abundant love of her. She goes on to proclaim how generous he is, not only with his funds but also with his love. Charlotte explains how miraculous that is considering how devastating his past is. Charlotte opens up to her about how his late wife passed away suddenly, and he’s just had an awful time with the grieving process. The woman with a settled but scorched look in her eye, begins to say something, but Charlotte quickly changes the subject. The woman they order another bottle, as Caymus seems to be encouraging both of their honesty.

The woman, looks to Charlotte and asks her if she is in love. Charlotte puzzled, says she is of course in love with William. The woman goes on to ask how long they have been together, Charlotte increasingly suspicious of this woman, says just under a year. Then the woman asks if Charlotte truly knows who William is… Charlotte now, completely irked, replies sharply, “Yes. What are you getting at?”

The woman without breaking her gaze or missing a beat replies equally as sharply, “Because I am Williams dead wife.” Almost spitting out her five-hundred dollar glass of wine, Charlotte shakes her head anxiously. Just repeating “no, no, no… She is dead. He told me she is dead.” The woman pulls out her marriage and divorce papers, along with some old pictures of her and William, at the house he now shares with Charlotte.

Charlotte processes with the woman, trying to wrap her head around all of these devastating and traumatizing discoveries. Quickly, processing turns to planning, and they devise a plan of revenge.. revenge on the man they once loved more than anything in the world. The man they were grateful to for giving them more, not just more money, though that he did. But more meaning to their loves, more impact to those in need, and he gave them more love than they ever thought possible to have.

It was not the money that was worth loving, it was the man. But the man knew all he gave was not really for them, but for himself. He liked to save, he liked the applause, and he liked the admiration of woman who he gave it all too. An old dog with enough support, may learn tricks, but a narcissist will never change.

And to think once he was just the one she knew as a double scotch with a big rock. Love is like chocolate cake, and revenge is just a slice of it. Maryrose Wood said it best, “If it were easy to resist, it would not be called chocolate cake.”