Here for the Cake

Mina Joseph was outside her apartment, digging through an oversized bag in search of keys when she saw the mysterious golden envelope tucked under the welcome mat. She had just spent 48 hours at the university library in an unsuccessful attempt to complete her dissertation before the deadline. Professor Langham, her crotchety dissertation advisor, had already given her two extensions and Mina had run out of fake relatives to kill off.

Normally, she would ignore anything delivered to her doorstep that was not edible but it was a gold envelope and she rarely got colorful mail. She tossed her heavy book bag aside and opened it.

Please Join Us for the Wedding of

Luke Gibson

and

Ella Hutchinson

On June 20, 2013 at the Placadomingo Resort in Costa Rica

Something should have happened. A thunderbolt should have erupted, a car should have crashed, or a bell should have rung. There should be a soundtrack—some horrible, frightening sound to accompany the news of your ex-boyfriend marrying one of your best friends from high school. Especially when you’re still in love with him.

June 20th? That was two months away! In two months, Luke was going to marry someone else. Not just someone else…Ella Hutchinson….Ella fucking Hutchinson. In Costa Rica. The wedding she had been dreaming about since she was fifteen and had mentioned to Ella over a double scoop at Baskin Robbins in the summer of ’02, after they had spent the whole day in the Art Walk at the Village Green avoiding their parents. What a double-crossing, parasitic tramp.

Did they honestly send her this invitation? Why in God’s name would they want her at their four-day wedding in paradise? This was either their way of being overly observant of social niceties or the sickest, most passive aggressive backhand Ella had ever dealt her.

Mina took a deep breath and sat defeated in her hallway. She stared up at the cobwebs on the ceiling and considered it the most perfect representation of her shitty, love-starved life. Forget the dissertation. It was time to open the Oreos.

2

Wake Me Up

She hoped that if she switched on the radio during her drive home from the library that some deejay named after an exotic fruit or bath and body product might play tortured love songs that could recognize the pain in her. Alas, the only functioning radio station in her car played peppy Bruno Mars songs and club jams by Ke$ha. She needed Adele, and considering Adele’s level of radio play, her absence was insulting.

She knew that she couldn’t be angry and sad for much longer, noting that her level of emotion was heightening to the point of irrationality. It just wasn’t becoming. Becoming was all she had left.

More importantly, since she had spent last night weeping and stuffing her face, she only had one day left to make her deadline.

Mina dragged her bitter butt up the five flights of stairs to her apartment, cursing her landlord’s lack of professional initiative to fix the elevator with the little breath she could muster. To distract herself from the physical demand of climbing, she counted the amount of days, months… years, since she had been to the gym. August 24, 2010… she had a strongly worded conversation with her reflection about her physical well-being and then drove the two miles to the gym in the only yoga pants she owned that did not have holes in the crotch. She ran for twenty-five minutes, lifted fifteen pounds of iron on a bench press, and sat on that strange, weighted sex machine that made you flap your inner thighs like a horny moth. She had a strange fantasy that the overt come hither nature of the exercise might win the attention of the beautiful, bronze man that was doing pull-ups in her direction.

She fantasized about how he might approach her. He would notice her beautiful, almond eyes from across the room, so struck by them he would lose count of the amount of pull-ups he was doing and be thrown off his whole circuit. He would awkwardly approach her outside of the gym on her way to the elevator, nervously run his fingers through that thick, black mane of his. On their first date, they would go to a Parisian-inspired coffee shop around mid-afternoon and spend the whole day talking and laughing, losing track of time. The owner would be so struck by their obvious chemistry and would keep the shop open just for them until midnight. Then he would walk her to her apartment, hurl her against the front door, and kiss her passionately. He would admit that he was already falling in love with her and invite her to come with him to his yacht to look at the stars.

In reality, he looked at himself for about ten minutes and then retired to the locker room. Soul-crushing. Mina mourned their would-be relationship all the way home and perhaps, more unfortunately, she never went back to that gym.

Disillusionment and misplaced hope is what ended her potentially revolutionary body makeover. Ok fine, it was sheer laziness, but wasn’t it so much better to blame someone else? At this juncture, considering her lack of physical fitness, the end might be closer than she had imagined. Anyway, was this going to be her life? Fat, alone, and in a perpetual state of irritation—always to be bested by the next flight of stairs?

She was going to allow herself to be sad, because, after all, she had the right. She was going to wallow, actually. She would fall asleep in her plaid pajamas by the light of television with oatmeal chocolate chip ice cream smeared all over her face and Brandi Carlile’s guitar-like, lamenting voice in her ears. She would close her eyes just as Emma Thompson found out that her adoring husband was cheating on her in Love Actually, expel a strangled cry on her behalf, and pass out. Something about Emma Thompson crying made it okay for everyone to cry with her.

Then she would wake up, clean herself off, have another strongly worded conversation with her reflection, and begin her new life as a self-determined, self-motivated academic. She would get published all over the place and say profound things about human civilization to Diane Sawyer and inner city high school students. She would become the most coveted cougar this side of the Pacific Ocean.

Yes, she decided, the emotional purge was necessary.

Finally, Mina made it to her last step. Completely lacking any self-consciousness despite the fact that she was now breathing as heavily as a golden retriever in labor. She began the daily search for her keys, shuffling through textbooks, novels, magazines, and fugitive papers in her bag. No luck. After thirty seconds of her maddening, disorganized search, she was ready to flip her bag upside down.

And that’s when she noticed him. As she dumped the contents of her bag on the carpeted hallway, she saw a pair of brown, shiny shoes. A man sat casually in front of her door, his legs stretched out into the middle of the hallway, completely unconcerned that he was obstructing the walkway for other tenants.

Squatting on the floor in front of her large bag, Mina slowly met his gray, green gaze. It was Ben Fogarty: Luke’s best friend and most likely his best man—historically, the biggest pain in the ass.

Forty-five seconds, he said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

What?

It took you forty-five seconds to realize that I was here, he said. He stood up jauntily, brushing something off his pants as if he had been rolling around in the woods and was covered in wood chips.

Nice place, he said, looking up and inspecting the ceilings, I mean, it’s got character, he shifted the focus of his assessment to Mina. You look…well.

Mina responded by raising her eyebrow. Ben was never this nice. By now he would have made some wisecrack about her disheveled hair (which was particularly disheveled today), her ill-fitting clothing, or something heinously stupid or uptight that she had said. But then again, she hadn’t spoken yet.

It had been a while but he looked pretty much the same, which Mina found detestable because she suddenly noticed how attractive he was. His brown, thick hair was impossibly perfect, like he rolled out of bed and didn’t give a fuck. His face was so utterly masculine—scruffy chin, easy smile. He was tall and lean and she was lost… for about 3.5 seconds.

Was she really so lonely that Ben Fogarty was starting to look good? Had she forgotten that he was infuriating? That he couldn’t take anything seriously, including his own future and ambition? Did she forget that he had used his father’s wealth and his relative charm to bed half of their hometown, including most of the middle-aged mothers who had just started getting into pilates? Thanks to Ben’s carefully orchestrated seductions, Wilfred’s 9 a.m. class at the Glen Park District gym became his personal harem.

Shake it off, she told herself, and shake it off she did.

You want something. What is it?

Can’t you just pretend that you’ve missed me? That you’re happy to see me and curious about what I’m doing with my life?

Mina stood, placed her hands on her hips, and glared at him.

Oh, I’ve missed you. I’m so happy to see you. What are you doing these days? she said, in the driest voice she could muster.

Ben smiled, flashing his perfectly lined, white teeth. Man, he must have a great dentist.

This is the part where you invite me in and I tell you what I want over a cup of coffee.

Mina bent down to pick up her things.

I know why you’re here. Luke is getting married, to Ella of all people. I got the invitation.

Yes. You’ve contextualized it, but you still don’t know why that brought me here… Ben said sweetly, handing her a textbook and a lipstick that had somehow rolled to the other end of the hallway.

I couldn’t care less what you want, Ben. Now, if you’ll excuse me… Mina turned away from him, heading toward her front door, until she heard a jingling sound over her shoulder.

She turned around to see that Ben was looming over her, holding out her apartment key, triumphantly.

Have you ever considered getting one of those tracking devices, you know, for your keys?

Mina snatched the keys away and rolled her eyes. She turned to open the door.

Yeah, you’d probably lose the tracking device, Ben said smartly.

Mina smiled secretly facing away from him. Yeah, she probably would lose the tracking device.

Mina rattled the key around the keyhole, coaxing the temperamental door to open. She heard Ben laugh softly behind her. Finally, she managed to swing the door open.

When they entered, she was immediately embarrassed: clothes strewn haphazardly and books everywhere. She had really outdone herself. She was living in a bombed out train depot.

I love what you’ve done with the place. How cozy! Ben said, smirking.

Mina pulled her tote bag from her shoulder and dumped it on the kitchen table.

Aren’t you going to invite me in? he asked.

You’re not a vampire, you don’t need an invitation, she retorted, drifting to the cupboards to pull out two teacups.

Ben walked in and pulled some books off the sofa, plopped down and glanced at them. Philosophy books on the root languages of the Balkan region and a copy of Crime and Punishment…damn, this girl needed to get out more.

He watched Mina’s unmitigated concentration as she twisted her hair into a bun and boiled water over the stove in a saucepan in the kitchen. Didn’t she have a teakettle? What was this, the 1800s? Why were menial tasks always so difficult for her? Could she really discuss a physics theorem in front of thirty of her peers but never understand cardinal directions?

She had always been pretty. Her eyes were huge, lined with the thickest, blackest eyelashes. He had always loved that part of her face—the way her eyebrows emphasized everything she said, the dramatics of her expressions always giving her away. She would be horrible in the mafia.

And those lips. Well, they were definitely lips—plump and perfectly shaped. He had thought of stealing a kiss from her a couple times throughout high school—usually under the influence of drugs, alcohol, or NyQuil—but he had always felt guilty about those thoughts. After all, Mina was taken. Plus she was probably too green and too self-important to enjoy it, let alone kiss him back.

Too bad she didn’t really care about her appearance, he thought, that hadn’t really changed. Her hair was a frizzy mess; the long, black locks had so much potential, but she didn’t seem to believe in hair product…or a comb. She didn’t really need makeup, but it couldn’t hurt. He knew there was no sun in Boston, but her pallor bordered on sickly.

Then, there were the clothes; an ochre yellow turtle neck, a brown, knit long vest, and jeggings that had an almost imperceptible tear right at the top of her inner thigh. Ben wondered if she was going for sexy, poor Librarian and had just missed the boat on sexy. Was it his job as a friend to tell her that she should stop shopping at Goodwill?

Had they really ever been friends? They had put up with each other, was more like it. Luke and Ben had been friends since elementary school, and Mina was his girl. Luke had loved her so much and found her horrible fashion sense a comment on how little she needed to do to look perfect. He found her general disconnection with reality to be endearing like some sort of mad professor. She was so serious all the time, Ben had complained, playful—but man— so obsessed with school. Luke called that ambitious. It really was about perspective.

But Ben had always enjoyed her quick wit, and when years passed and they were able to overcome the things that bugged them about each other, he grew to find her company mildly pleasing. He loved making her laugh, despite her desires to stay scornful of him. He couldn’t really blame her for relenting. After all, he knew how fucking charming he was.

Stop staring at me, Mina said matter-of-factly.

Ben snorted.

Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not naked.

She laughed incredulously. She walked over to Ben and handed him a mug of coffee. Ben took the mug from her and looked in… he could see that the pieces of the instant coffee had not dissolved yet.

Instant?

Mina smiled and inhaled the coffee deeply, like she was shooting a Folgers commercial. Ben shrugged and drank. Not bad.

So, you came to gloat?

Ben shook his head.

I never gloat.

That was true, she thought, he wasn’t a gloater. Despite the riches he came from, it wasn’t his nature to look down upon people. Plus gloating took a lot of energy.

You came to comfort me? How sweet, Mina said sarcastically, Don’t bother. I couldn’t care less about Luke and his new bride.

Mina got up and turned back to the kitchen, pretending that she had left something there so she didn’t have to face Ben when she said it.

Cut the crap, Mina. You hate this, you’re losing your keys, living in squalor, and refusing to comb your hair. These are all signs of emotional depression.

I’m fine, Mina said

Well, I’m not! Luke is about to make the biggest mistake of his life and we both know it.

That’s his mistake to make, Ben. He’s not my problem anymore.

"Your problem? Since when is a guy who is crazy about you a problem? Or did you forget that he held your hair back when you threw up from eating the cafeteria tuna salad in seventh grade? Or that he asked you to Homecoming and prom with those ridiculous helicopter banners that I paid for? Did you forget that he went to all of your debate competitions, even though they were painfully boring and horribly lame? Or that he used to drive twelve hours once every three months, regardless of the weather, to see you in Boston and not have sex 75% of the time? No, he’s not your problem. You know what your problem is, Mina? You didn’t have the balls three years ago to tell him that you loved him and that he shouldn’t leave you for Ella, who treats him worse and deserves him less. Your problem is that you’re too afraid to go after what you want, Ben said harshly, picking up a textbook and carelessly spinning it in the air. At least in the real, human world."

He left me… Mina said, her voice trembling.

No, he challenged you. He spent the better part of a decade hoisting you on a pedestal and the one time it was your turn to prove to him that you loved him just as much as he loved you, you let him walk away.

Well, that was a long time ago… I doubt that he still…

There’s a chance, Mina.

A simple statement, but it shook Mina. Lifted her heart. Terrified her.

He doesn’t really love Ella, but he loved you. We can’t let that happen to him. We have to go there. We have to stop this wedding.

Mina’s eyes widened. This asshole has lost it.

Hear me out—

You’re crazy…

I’m not arguing, Ben motioned to the couch, waiting for her to sit down. He frowned when she remained motionless.

Sit and listen. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll leave and we can have this conversation again at the baby shower. He motioned to the couch again. Mina walked over and took a seat.

I know, although he won’t admit it, that he is not in love with Ella. I think he’s marrying her because she’s pregnant or blackmailing him. Maybe he feels obligated. I know he hasn’t forgotten about you because when he talks about you, he looks sad, hurt even…

He broke up with me, Mina interjected vehemently, he hurt me.

People make mistakes.

And stay with her for three years? Mina shook her head, Luke made his choice.

Yeah, well he made a bad choice, Ben snapped at her, We both know that he hasn’t been the same since he dropped out of Notre Dame. I know he feels trapped like he doesn’t have a good enough reason to walk away…

Not being in love is a pretty good reason, Mina stated.

Ben rolled his eyes.

What a romantic, he teased, Grow up.

Excuse me? How unevolved do you have to be to think you can actually break a couple apart at their wedding? When are you going to grow up and realize that you can’t always mess with people’s lives, especially Luke’s? Mina asked.

You’ve been doing a pretty good job of that all by yourself, Mina, Ben said sharply.

Excuse me?

Ben stood up, his height towering over her menacingly.

I know. I know that you guys talk and I know that you’ve seen each other, Ben said, his statement like a current of wind in an empty room.

How do you know…?

He told me about that night. Josie’s mother’s funeral. How you guys stayed up and ate pizza and probably sucked face. Come on, Mina. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t have some love left in your heart for Luke.

Her eyes widened and she made an exasperated sound. Yep, she would definitely be killed within the first four hours of joining the mafia.

Our story is over, Mina said forcefully as if chiding a child.

Ben rolled his eyes.

Your ‘story’… Jesus…

He made his choice. Anyway, I can’t just leave out of nowhere. I teach three sections during the week. I have students that depend on me.

Get a substitute. Cancel for a week. It’s not the apocalypse.

I don’t have enough money for a ticket to Costa Rica either! Even if I had money, I wouldn’t spend it on my ex-boyfriend’s… Mina trailed off as she watched Ben pull a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket and hand it to her. It was a ticket to Costa Rica.

I can see that you’ve done very well for yourself, Ben said dryly, but I figured you may have some qualms about putting down the money for this expedition, so I took the liberty of doing it for you.

Mina stared at the ticket vacantly.

Are you insane?!

Ben mulled the question over in his head thoughtfully, No. I’m just filthy rich. He flashed her a smile and reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted bills out methodically and handed them to Mina.

You’ll probably need to go shopping. I want you to look amazing, sexy… a fucking vixen.

You want me to seduce Luke?

Or your version of that.

Mina laughed.

I’m not doing this, Ben. She pushed his hand away and handed him back the ticket and the money. She picked his mug up and walked back to the kitchen.

Come on, Mina. I’m assuming you haven’t seen your vagina in a couple of years so you may be a little rusty, but I’m sure that some men find you very sexy. He tilted his head slightly, staring at her breasts, You might want to invest in a push-up.

Mina glared at him as he stalked over to her in the kitchen. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to the full-length mirror by the door.

Do something with your hair, he said, picking up the strands and surveying it like the most experienced of hairdressers. Doesn’t it do anything besides sit there?

What else is it supposed to do, it’s hair.

Listen, kid. You and I both know that Ella knows how to dress up. She’s shiny, polished. Her makeup is perfect, her hair shines, and she smells like a fern tree’s perfectly waxed asshole. You’re going to have to step up your game. This whole ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude you have going on with the way you present yourself is not cute. I would stay to make sure you do a good job but…I don’t want to.

Ben folded the bills up in the ticket and stuck the wad in her breasts. They both watched it slip to the floor.

Yeah, you’ll definitely need a push-up.

They both laughed. As Mina bent down to pick up the money and the ticket, Ben grabbed his scarf and coat from the hanger on the back of the door. He swung the front door open.

Good luck and see you in Costa Rica!

I’m not going…

Mina felt him slap her ass. As she got up sharply to kill him, she found that he had disappeared, leaving her with the ticket, a wad of cash, and a decision to make.

Mina swung the door shut and walked over to the couch, counting the money. $2400. Holy shit. She reached over and ran her fingers through her own hair. She got stuck within five seconds. Yeah, he was probably on to something with the hair cut.

She took a moment to let it sink in. Benjamin Fogarty had just been in her studio apartment. Talk about a disruption in her carefully separated worlds. What was the point of living so far away from home if people like Ben could drop by unannounced?

The last time that she saw him was at a Christmas party over two years ago in Brookview. Luke’s older sister Salma was having a small get together and invited the girls after running into them at Corner Bakery. Mina was happy to go because she loved Salma and she wanted to see Luke. It had been six months since their break up and Mina missed him desperately.

When she arrived, Ben was already three drinks in and pouring shots of cinnamon whiskey. He never mentioned Luke and she never asked. He joked about her ugly boots and ironic Christmas sweater; she informed him that the beard he was trying to grow made his face look like a vagina. They laughed. She was adrift in nostalgic banter.

And then he entered—Lucas Gibson, the love of her life, with his arm around Ella Hutchinson. He didn’t even notice her.

3

Some More Proud Moments

The following morning, Mina showed up unprepared to her coffee date with Professor Langham.

This is the third extension I have given you. Now, you are far behind your second year peers in completing your work. Without your complete introduction and methodology, I am still in the dark on what you plan to even write about. More importantly, you seem to believe that my job as your dissertation advisor is to excuse you for your rather consistent incompetency.

Mina hoped that Ms. Langham’s scathing denouncement of her might inspire some sympathy-invoking tears or even a particularly pitiable puppy dog face. Nothing. Dammit.

Well, what is it this time? Did you lose another relative?

Please, let me explain.

Professor Langham sat across from Mina, pursing her lips and leaning back in her chair. Mina should have come up with a plausible lie long before she had arrived at this meeting. Then again, she had been thinking about Luke and Ella and she was admittedly a complete failure in multi-tasking. Once she had tried to put her eyeliner on in the car while driving in her high school parking lot and not only did she hit her psychology teacher's parked blue sedan, but she also poked her left eye so badly that she had to wear an eye patch for two weeks. It was not cute.

Since she had already lied twice, she thought maybe the truth would set her free. At least, that’s what Shakespeare had told people…right? It was Shakespeare, wasn’t it?

I understand how you feel Professor Langham and my intention was never to disappoint you again. Unfortunately, I was unable to complete the draft but I would be happy to show you what I have completed.

I do not accept incomplete work, Ms. Joseph.

Professor Langham looked Mina up and down, her eyes squinting in a way that she had seen her do when she was deciding between the Diet Coke and the regular Coke in the university cafeteria. Mina was being evaluated. Professor Langham sighed deeply and stood up, picked up her purse and slung it across her shoulder.

You have three days to produce your complete methodology and first chapter, after which you will email me. I will provide feedback digitally. If you fail to produce your work, I will drop you from my advisory caseload. If you call me and ask for another extension, I will have yet another reason to drop you from my caseload. Do we understand each other?

Yes, Mina said.

Your class starts in an hour. I suggest you try to get there early so you can succeed at one part of your job, Professor Langham said. With a quick, haughty spin, she walked away.

You all right? a voice implored. The waitress who was pouring her a second cup of coffee watched her with concerned eyes.

Mina smiled weakly and cupped the porcelain white mug in her hand. She leaned forward to catch the steam. What should she say, that her ex-boyfriend was marrying an old high school friend? That she cried in the hallway, stalked their Facebook accounts on her phone, and fell asleep on the couch with a half-eaten falafel sandwich on her chest?

I’m okay, she murmured politely.

Don’t worry sweetheart, the waitress said with a thoughtful hand on Mina’s arm, that woman comes in here all the time and yells at everyone. She’s so unpleasant.

Mina laughed.

Sometimes, the waitress whispered, leaning in, she doesn’t even wear a bra. A woman that age should always support her breasts. It’s unseemly. Especially when she’s upset. Do you need some creamer?

Yes, thank you.

The waitress winked.

You just keep your head up, dear. She added, winking and walking away.

Keep your head up? Mina leaned back to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was the physical expression of anxiety and restlessness. Wrapped in a large, cream sweater, her frizzy hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her feet were shoved in UGG boots. She groaned and buried her head in her arms.

4

Rules of Decorum When Rosemary’s Baby Calls

The allotted three days had passed and Mina had actually gotten herself in order. It had been about ten minutes since Mina had managed to complete her dissertation methodology.

At least she was done writing. She could take a week, come back to this when there had been enough space, and she had finished watching the most recent episode of Couples Therapy.

When the phone rang, Mina didn’t bother to look at who was calling her because she assumed it was one of the only three people who ever called her: her mother, Josie, and Lisa White from the Allstate Insurance Company.

Hello?

Mina? a singsong voice on the end of the line said. Mina’s throat went dry. Shit, it couldn’t be her.

Mina, this is Ella. I know it’s been some time since we spoke and all, but I’m glad you haven’t changed your number. Clearly you deleted mine, she said, her wind-chime voice straining.

No, I… got a new phone about a year ago. Same number but I lost all my contacts.

Oh! Good! Well, now you have my number! Thankfully, I had yours or we would have been lost to each other forever.

Thankfully? Mina could think of other sentiments she would rather convey to Ella. Fuck you. I hate you. You’re a slut. A treacherous, backstabbing whore.

Yes, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if we had lost touch with each other, Mina said, lying through her teeth.

"God, how long has it