The Cake, and the Empty Counter

An abrupt knock on the door shook me away from the void, from the empty bitterness I had been staring into since I woke up. I sat there for a moment, unsure of how to move. In numbing my mind, had I forgotten the most basic of human functions? After a few seconds, I let out a deep sigh, pushed myself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. I thought throwing some cold water on my face might make me look more awake, more alive. It didn’t.

I opened the door to see my lovely neighbour Maria from across the hall, flower in their hair and smile on their face, holding a tray of baked goods. They baked something for one of the neighbours at least once a week. Maria was an absolute sweetheart, everybody in the building loved them. They even got along with our landlord, and I don’t think anyone’s so much as smiled at him in his whole pathetic life.

Maria handed me the tray, then explained that they had baked me a chocolate cake from scratch and were worried about me after what happened. I smiled and thanked them. They gave me a hug and walked away, I assume to work.

I set the tray down on the counter and stared at it for what felt like a few hours, contemplating. Finally, like ripping off a band-aid, I took a deep breath and removed the cover of the tray, revealing the decadent treat underneath.

My first impulse was to gag. It looked so heavy, and my life already felt heavy enough. It looked delicious, like the greatest thing I would ever taste. I couldn’t eat it. I didn’t have the energy. I wasn’t in the mood for sweet. I didn’t deserve something so delicious. I didn’t deserve the dopamine it would give me. I didn’t deserve Maria’s kindness.

Since I was a child I’ve dealt with it. Feeling like I had a hole deep inside of me. Feeling myself get further and further away as all the other kids around me laughed and played. Feeling like I was drowning and dying of thirst all at the same time, too much emotion and not enough. Feeling like my brain was hanging by a string, like the slightest push could send me falling down a pit that would never end. I thought I had gotten over it. I talked to the doctors, I took the pills, I did everything I had to. I was starting to feel, at least a little bit. The black and white turned to greys, and then eventually to muted colours and spots of bright hue. I thought it was gone, but like a curse, like a killer chasing me across the world, it lurked behind me when I least expected it. When I would turn around, when I would look for it, it would disappear, but every now and then, when I was distracted, I would feel its wind in my neck, hear its whisper hidden in my head.

It was back. I slept in limbo, trapped in my bed for eons at a time, unsure if the roof was up or down. I would sob, terrified that it had come back, terrified that I wouldn’t defeat it this time. I would sob so much I’d have no energy left to do anything else. Not sleep, not eat, not write, nothing. I was simply there, sinking body, vacant eyes, mind drifting somewhere unfathomable.

Now here I was, staring at a cake. Just some stupid cake. A cake Maria probably spent at least an hour making me. They didn’t have to go through all that trouble just for me. I would have preferred if they didn’t. I could have just sat here alone. I could have let today turn into next year.

“I guess I am kind of hungry,” I thought out loud. “It does look delicious. It’s not that I don’t want to eat it, I just… I don’t know.”

“Eat.”

“Yup. Yup. Get out of bed, too. Is that your other brilliant wisdom? I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Eat me,” the cake might have said. “Please.”

We sat there for a bit, in an intense negotiation, neither of us willing to budge.

“Look, I’m sorry, this is all a big misunderstanding. You look delicious, and I’d love to eat you, don’t get me wrong. I just can’t, not yet. I haven’t even… called my mom, in like, I don’t know, a month? Maybe more? The last time I brushed my teeth was a week ago, and I was supposed to finish writing my book two and a half years ago. Two and a half years ago, and I’m… I don’t know, I’m maybe halfway? Barely?” My voice started to break. “I can’t do anything.”

“You should eat me.”

“I’m not here!” I felt myself losing my grip. “Do you get that, I’m not here! I’m nowhere, and I’m going nowhere!” With murderous intent, before I had a chance to realize what I was doing, I grabbed a knife and plunged it deep into the cake’s batter. If it had a voice, it may have let out a dying cry, a cry of victory.

I sat at the table, a single slice of chocolate cake standing defiantly in the plate before me. I felt my throat dry up. I felt a tear come to my eye. I have no idea why I got so emotional over a dessert. I stared at it, wondering if I had enough energy in me to will my arm towards the fork. I grabbed the fork, and I must say, I was proud, but that was about it. I simply held it there, in midair, for a few minutes.

Just then, I heard a ringing. I reached over to my phone, and saw that the call was from Don, my landlord. Joy. He sounded out of breath. I didn’t register most of what he was saying, because my eyes were still firmly locked on that alluring brown frosting. Somewhere between calling me a leach and a parasite, I could have sworn I heard him say he was going to evict me. I said nothing. I just hung up the phone. I took a deep breath, grabbed my fork, and approached the siren perched atop its chocolate rock to indulge in some good old fashioned cocoa bean extracted serotonin.

It was a few days after I got to enjoy that delicious chocolate cake. I wasn’t better, I wasn’t okay, obviously. It would never just go away. It was my brain, there was an imbalance, and that’s okay. Yet somehow, I felt lighter, like maybe I could do something, like maybe it wouldn’t all be for nothing.

I was getting ready to go over and thank Maria. To thank them for the cake, and for agreeing to let me stay with them for a bit. I caught a glimpse of the empty grey counter, vacant, where food and life once was, and I couldn’t help but feel a smile cross my lips.