Filling the Void

Grandma Hattie pulled on her oven mitt and opened up the oven, reveling in the blast of warm, fragrant air that coated her body. She pulled out the pan, examining her work with a pleased smile. It looked and smelled like heaven.

“Gracie, Jace, Hellen,” she called out, her old voice still sing-song, even if it quavered occasionally.

A small figure with frizzy golden hair darted around the corner and skidded across the tile in his stockinged feet, his face and clothing covered in mud. How had he even found mud, with the thick blanket of snow outside?

Close behind him was Gracie, who entered with more poise. At eight years old, she was too grown up to come running for treats. Her blue eyes, though, still shone with anticipation.

“Climb up to the table,” Grandma said, smiling as Jace began to bounce on the balls of his feet, eagerness plastered on his dirty face.

“Is it ready? Is it ready? Is it ready ready ready?” he exclaimed.

“It is ready, ready, ready,” Grandma replied, grabbing a washcloth and trying to get the squirming five-year-old to hold still so she could wipe his face. It proved futile, so she finally just playfully swatted him on the behind and sent him to the table.

She pulled out four plates and started to slice the cake. It was a secret Grandon family recipe, handed down from her great-great grandmother. Everyone who tasted it begged for more, and usually asked for the recipe. But although Hattie was not a stingy woman, she would not share this recipe. It was as sacred to her as the old family Bible sitting on her bedside table.

She handed the two youngsters their slices, then frowned. “Gracie, dear, where is Hellen?”

Gracie shrugged, her mouth already stuffed full.

“She’s lookin’ at your books,” Jace offered, words warbled as he spoke around a large bite of chocolate goodness.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Jace,” Grandma chided. He hunched his shoulders slightly as if to make himself smaller. Then he shoved another bite into his mouth, a couple of crumbs dribbling out of the corners. He had already managed to smear frosting around his lips. There was even some on his nose, for heaven’s sake. How had he managed that?

“Helen,” Grandma called out. “Come for cake, dear.”

Another child entered the doorway a few moments later, a strange look on her face.

Perhaps child was the wrong word. Hellen was sixteen, but her small frame made her seem closer to thirteen or fourteen. She had an almost sunken cast to her face, one that Hattie did not remember from last winter when the children had visited for the holidays.

Grandma Hattie tsked softly. “Dear, you need some meat on those bones. Come, sit down.”

Hellen stiffened visibly, but came and sat between her younger siblings. Grandma slid a slice of cake to her then went to get herself a piece.

When she returned, the younger two were already asking for seconds. Hattie gladly obliged them. She often felt as though she had been born to be a grandma. What was better than spending your time baking sweet treats and spoiling dear little kiddies?

She finally sat and took a bite of her own slice. The moist, fluffy cake melted into her mouth like ambrosia of the gods. The ratio of frosting to cake was quite lovely, if she did say so herself.

Hellen still hadn’t touched her piece. Grandma frowned slightly. That was odd. She remembered Helen loving the cake before.

“How have you been, my dear Helen?” Grandma asked carefully, taking a small bite of cake.

Hellen smiled. “Oh, I’m fine. How have you been?”

“Same as always, my dear. How’s school?”

“Oh, it’s school. Nothing exciting happening. Glad to have a holiday break, though.” Hellen sounded normal enough, but…was her smile forced? Did she seem tense, almost like she was poised to make a run for it?

“Why don’t you try a bite of cake?” Grandma said.

“It’s good!” Jace exclaimed, gesturing with his fork for emphasis as several large crumbs fell out of his mouth. He glanced quickly at Grandma before ducking his head, his little cheeks turning cherry red.

Hellen laughed loudly. “Maybe try to keep it inside your mouth then, Jace,” she said. Speaking quickly, she turned to Gracie. “What did you thing of those snow foxes we saw earlier?”

Gracie’s face broke into a smile. “Oh! Those were so cute!”

Hattie frowned deeply. Hellen seemed to be trying to change the subject.

A few more minutes passed, the little two asking for thirds. Hattie got herself seconds. Hellen still didn’t touch her slice.

Finally, irritated and a little offended, Grandma said, “Hellen, if you don’t want the cake, you could just say so.”

Hellen’s face reddened a little, and she forced out a small laugh. “Oh, I’m just not very hungry right now.”

Grandma harrumphed. “You don’t need to be hungry for cake.”

Hellen shrugged, giving an apologetic smile.

“I’ll just save it for you for later,” Grandma said, perhaps too stiffly. No one ever turned down a slice of the Grandons’ famous cake.

Hellen’s face fell slightly. “Um, okay.”

“So you don’t want me to?” Grandma demanded. Hellen hesitated, biting her lip.

“I want it!” Jace cried, reaching to snatch the plate. Relief flooded Hellen’s face and she pushed the plate towards him.

“No,” Grandma said sharply, surprising even herself. The three children froze, staring at her. “Hellen, you can eat it later when you are hungry. In this house, I don’t tolerate ingratitude. You will have that cake before anything else.”

Hellen gave a quavering smile. “Okay, of course.”

She stood abruptly and left the run in a rush, head ducked.

Grandma sat back in her chair, surprised at herself. That had perhaps been harsh. But she couldn’t go back on her word now.

Dinner came. Hellen did not eat her cake. Nor for breakfast the next morning. Or lunch. A full day passed, and Hellen still did not eat the cake.

Hellen stared out the window at the falling snow, feeling empty in more ways than one. She saw Grandma out of the corner of her eye and studiously stared forward, ignoring the mixture of anger and concern she knew she would see on the old woman’s face.

She didn’t want to insult Grandma. The cake was delicious. That wasn’t the problem.

Grandma’s ultimatum hadn’t bothered Hellen too much. She hadn’t wanted her Grandma to start fussing over her new eating…habits. Her parents did that enough.

For a moment, she saw her reflection in the window, and her gut twisted. Familiar feelings of disgust swelled inside of her and she looked away. Soon, she would look better. She just needed to be strong, to ignore the gnawing in her stomach. It always passed eventually.

And once she was beautiful, the other emptiness would be filled too.

Grandma walked into Hellen’s room. The girl was looking at some magazine full of fashion photos.

“Dear, can we talk?”

Hellen looked up, eyes immediately wary. “Sure,” she said slowly.

Grandma sat beside her on the bed, hesitant. “I just want you to know that I’m not upset with you,” she finally said.

Hellen smiled. “Thanks, Grandma.”

“And,” Hattie continued, “if you need anything, I am here for you.”

Shockingly, tears welled up in the corners of Hellen’s eyes. She looked away quickly, trying to hide the outpouring of emotion.

“Dear, what’s wrong?” Grandma asked, suddenly concerned.

It came out in a gush of tears and nearly incoherent sobs. The pain of feeling inadequate, of not being good enough, of a desperate desire to have people look at her and notice her.

Grandma pulled her close, letting her sob into her voluminous night gown. “Oh, child,” she whispered. “I love you so very, very much. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what to say. How could she fix this? How could she help? Her mind ran through a million different things to say. You are beautiful. You’re not fat. You can’t starve yourself to make yourself beautiful. Nothing seemed adequate.

Finally, Hellen pulled away, wiping her tear stained face with a sleeve. “Thanks for listening, Grandma,” she said softly. “Everyone else just tries to tell me what to do. Thanks for just being here.”

Grandma cocked her head. Wait, she had done the right thing? But she hadn’t done anything…

She finally just smiled. “I love you so much, dear. I’ll always be here to listen.”

Later that night, Grandma Hattie called her daughter. Hellen needed help, more than just a listening ear. But Grandma would always be able to provide that much. Perhaps, for some, it was better than Grandon chocolate cake.