just desserts

Norman came skulking into the garden that was the site of his great-aunt's 85th birthday celebration. His head drooped to his chest as he treaded the pebbled path leading to the festivities. His thoughts roiled with all the agitation and pent up sourness that he, for all intents and purposes, had gathered up over the entirety of his forty-two years. He was in a bad mood. His mood blinded Norman to the festive atmosphere inside the exquisitely landscaped garden that his great-aunt, Adele Isadora Maxwell, was said to have modeled after a garden she had scene in a film. Norman did not know what film. He could never picture his great-aunt, Adele Isadora Maxwell, enjoying a movie.

Adele Isadora Maxwell was a businesswoman, matriarch, survivor, role model for women of all ages. Norman knew his aunt's story very well. He learned it by rote; told to him incessantly by his mother and grandmother . He knew to be respectful and when asked to do so, reverent. Norman had arrived late to the party, seeking to avoid the speeches and testimonies, the gifts and honors. Norman did not feel like being reverent this day. The memories of his encounters with his great-aunt welled in the back of his eyes as he saw Adele Isadora Maxwell seated in her place of honor. Adele Isadora Maxwell...A.I.M. Norman, at times, would fixate on her initials. A.I.M...aim. He did that quite often. You can't be arrested for your daydreams...at least not yet, he would think. Aiming a projectile at any square inch of the "Great Woman"...the image of that, the surreal nature of such an act always lingered, a curious residue in his mind. It was---

"Silly!"

Norman focused his eyes and found himself standing next to his cousin, Tilly.

"What?" Norman asked with a tinge of guilt.

"What you're thinking is silly."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"Because you're always thinking the same things."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes...you are!" Tilly's face sprouted a knowing grin. "Tell you what. You got money in your pocket or just that Venmo/PayPal crap?"

Norman thought for a moment. His daughter had urged him to download Venmo the previous summer. He had d0ne it out of curiosity. He used it exactly once and then vowed not to use it again. Norman reached into his right jacket pocket and pulled out a thin layer of bills. "I got money", he said with a hint of defiance.

"Twenty bucks says I can guess what you were thinking when I walked over here."

Norman looked at Tilly, suspiciously. He was impish and had always been impish. He was a sneaky bastard to boot. Since they were boys, Tilly had caused more havoc in Norman's life than any other one person or any one thing except for Adele Isadora Maxwell. But still, with Tilly, he looked forward to the jokes, the games, the pranks and the taunts. As far as connecting with family, Tilly was it and that was enough.

"Okay, if you can't guess what I was thinking, in one try...", he said pointedly. "You owe me twenty dollars."

"Hand to God. As soon as this affair is over we're at the ATM."

"What? You don't have cash?"

Tilly replied with a facetious smile, "Who carries cash these days?" Tilly had a way of making Norman feel inadequate and Norman was aware of that. He often wondered why Norman put up with him. Family, he supposed.

"Okay, I got money in hand--which you are not getting. When I win, we're going down the street to the ATM in the Mercedes. Okay?"

"Good deal! One guess?"

"One guess!" Norman said with confidence and vigor. For the first time that day, a smile creased Norman's face.

"You were thinking about throwing something at Aunt Adele."

The smile fell from Norman's face like liquid spilling from a tabletop. Tilly stared into Norman's eyes, a smile building, looking for signs to confirm his victory. Norman peeled off the top bill in his thin roll and gave it to Tilly.

"Choke on it", he said bluntly.

Tilly gladly accepted the bill and slapped Norman on the shoulder and then grabbed him around the neck, collegially, pulling Norman close. He lead Norman further into the garden, down the pebbled path, closer to the epicenter of the celebration.

"Norman, you're an open book", Tilly said with great candor. "Always have been, always will be."

Norman frowned and cursed himself for always confiding in Tilly. Every thought, every whim, every dream, every nightmare he would tell Tilly for confirmation, commiseration, affirmation, etc. Tilly would listen and not be judgmental and he could keep a secret. Norman looked ahead as the two of them waded through the various guests that flitted here and there. They were enjoying the day, or at least pretending, smiles and laughter all around. He couldn't pretend anymore, Norman thought to himself, as he beheld the icon, Adele Isadora Maxwell, in her honored spot, holding a lioness's gaze as the members of her pride feasted in her honor.

"Why are we even here? Why is anyone here?" Norman wondered aloud.

"Money I suppose" Tilly answered breezily. "No, I take that back; no supposing, just money."

"So, that's it? We're all groveling at her feet so we get a slice when she's finally in the ground?"

"Looks that way."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"It bothers you?"

"I've told you so many times, she's such a terrible person." Norman said, shaking his head.

"I would agree."

"Everyone would agree!"

Tilly, nodded knowingly, "I would agree with that."

Norman, the exasperation welling in his voice, "So, if everyone agrees that she's a terrible person, why do we all kiss her ass?"

"Because it's there to be kissed" Tilly said airily.

"That's it?" Norman nearly shrieked. "You climb the mountain because it's there. You kiss her ass because it's there?"

Tilly relaxed his arm from around Norman's neck and folded both arms across his chest. "That's pretty much it." He paused and gazed at Norman's increasing agitation. "That's life, Norman."

Applause arose from the guests as two members of the catering crew appeared with an ornately decorated German Chocolate Full Sheet Cake, on a silver tray. It was the kind of cake that Norman and everyone else at the party knew was Adele Isadora Maxwell's favorite.

"So, we'll sit and eat German Chocolate cake and with each bite we're hoping she chokes and falls over dead?"

"That wouldn't be my ideal demise, for her, but that will do."

"And then, we're all there at the funeral lying about what a wonderful person she was."

"It's tradition."

"It's a lie!"

"You don't speak ill of the dead. That's the tradition" Tilly said, firmly but calmly.

"So...if that's the tradition, let me ask you a question."

"Okay."

"What if, by some weird quirk of history, we're at Hitler's funeral. We couldn't say an unkind word?"

A pained look came over Tilly's face as he unfolded his arms and thrust his hands into his pockets. "No, no, no, no! You never bring Hitler into a conversation because that always invalidates the point you're trying to make. Besides, I don't even think Hitler had a funeral."

"No funeral? You sure?"

Tilly shrugged, "I never saw anything about it on the History Channel."

"So, they find him in the bunker and that was that? No service. No headstone." Norman pondered for a bit. "That's sad."

"As opposed to what?" Tilly asked incredulously.

Norman shook his head as if trying to erase his previous thoughts. "You're right. I don't know what I was saying. I got a little crazy."

"A little? You sure?"

"Okay, a lot crazy. I get that way sometimes. You know that."

"Oh, I most assuredly do know that."

Norman thought for a moment, took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. He looked around the garden at all the people gathered. Some were familiar; some were not so familiar...distant. But, he was sure, any intimate contact by any attendee, with Adele Isadora Maxwell, would inevitably lead them to the same conclusion.

"What a terrible person she is. Why are we here? It's so unfair"

Norman and Tilly watched as a bright faced young woman with her dark hair pulled into a bun, dressed in an immaculate white blouse and neatly pressed black pants topped with a bright red apron delicately and expertly began to slice the German Chocolate cake. Her movements were surgeon-like; all done under the watchful gaze of Adele Isadora Maxwell.

"You came late, Norman. You haven't had any food." Tilly said with genuine concern. "I'll get you some cake."

Tilly left Norman's side and joined the quickly moving line that had formed. He asked for two plates from the young woman's helper and turned to give Norman a reassuring smile. Norman didn't return the smile. His eyes drifted toward the young woman slicing the German Chocolate cake. The blade glistened in the sunlight with each measured slice. The more Norman stared, the more the young woman's movements appeared to happen in slow motion. The blade slowly inching through the dark brown layers of confection. Her small white hands holding the dark handled knife firmly, plunging the blade downward, felling one slice of German Chocolate cake after another. Norman leered at the massacre. It was alluring, mesmerizing.

"Hey Norman, you want a big slice?" Tilly shouted while standing next to the young woman with the knife. Norman did not answer. "Norman?"

Faster than he had moved in weeks or maybe in his entire life, Norman pushed through the guests, known and unknown, who surrounded the area in front of him. Tilly flashed a look of concern as Norman came charging forward. He had no idea what was on Norman's mind. The neatly dressed woman glanced up from her work and saw Norman as he came towards her. A quizzical expression slowly spread across her face. Tilly dropped one of the plates and then held his stiffened arm towards Norman. Norman slammed into Tilly, tumbling him to the ground. Shrieks were heard as the eyes of the young woman grew wide and affixed on the man she thought was her attacker. Her left hand came up in defense. Norman brushed it aside and adroitly grabbed her right wrist and pulled the knife from her hand. Adele Isadora Maxwell watched the events with stony interest.

Norman, the knife tightly in his hand, looked into the eyes of Adele Isadora Maxwell. They were cold and defiant. Belittling. A slight smile grew on her thin lips. She knew this boy, she thought, nothing to worry her. Norman, knife in hand, felt a rush. This is how life should feel, he thought. He smiled; more like a grin. He could hear Tilly, still trying to regain his feet, calling his name. The knife sliced through quickly, easily, almost as expertly as the young woman's touch. The expression on the young woman's face was all confusion as Norman pulled a slice of German Chocolate cake from the silver tray and pushed it into the face of Adele Isadora Maxwell.

All time appeared to stop, if only for a moment. Norman stared at Adele Isadora Maxwell's face. She opened her eyes and they leered at Norman as dark brown confection dribbled from her eyelids down her cheeks. Evil poured forth from beneath the chocolate mask but Norman stood his ground. He looked at his hand covered in cake and frosting and in that single moment, Norman felt power.