(A short story by Irene B.)
Kira stood in the long, winding pickup line at Bake My Day bakery, already late and already irritated. Her thick, mid-length hair was pulled into a neat, low bun, with loose curls escaping just enough to brush her warm brown cheeks. The place should have been fast. It always was when she wanted a quick sneaky treat, no latte needed, which meant she could skip the second line for the custom, overly complicated orders. She’d placed the cake order last week for pickup today. In the past, it took a few extra minutes to add in a few more sprinkles, encouraged by the competent bakery staff, and while checking that no other customers were fussing due to her last-minute addition.
But today the place was packed. It was like everyone in the city had decided to treat themselves at the same time to a dozen cupcakes or a full sheet.
Couples were arguing over flavors. Kids being dragged away from the counter, after already pressing their snotty, wet faces to the protective glass. Others were tapping their chins, deciding if adding extra snickerdoodle cakes over lemon ones might be too much.
Yet the woman in front of Kira was the worst of the bunch. Loud, demanding, acting like she was the new boss of the bakery, but no one had told the regular crew.
The staff of five delivered crisp smiles, though their eyes registered stress as the staff member that Kira saw the most kept apologizing to her with wide eyes, like she was begging her not to lose her patience.
The unspoken apology broke through Kira’s irritation at the unusual crowd, and she smiled back reassuringly. She was still late, couldn’t catch up with time, all she could do was wait with everyone else.
Kira, wrinkling her nose, mouthed an “It’s fine” back as the young woman smiled awkwardly, dropping her shoulders, looking behind her, indicating that Kira’s cake was indeed ready to go.
The cake was for Antonia. It felt safer than showing up empty-handed and easier than deciding what a ‘let’s start fresh’ gift would look like.
Antonia, her former friend. Someone she thought would become a life-long and close friend, but Antonia decided to show her true self right at the last minute. And how? By taking credit for work Kira had put her heart and soul into delivering. A program they both had worked on but Antonia was going through a devastating breakup at the time, and being a girl’s girl, Kira covered her ass, only for Antonia to show all of hers and do her dirty. On the day of their presentation, Kira had been pulled aside by the CTO on another program related issue. Antonia used that time to sway the attendees of their joint demonstration into believing she was the real brains behind the work. Kira was unaware of all of this until three months later when promotions came. There were three open spots for Program Leads: Stephan got one, Antonia another, and Nikki the last. It only took one conversation with the CIO this time to uncover the truth.
Antonia was not only unapologetic; she seemed surprised that Kira didn’t know the game. Yes, she agreed that the bulk of the ideas were Kira’s while at the same time, professing that she was still equally deserving. With ten people up for the three roles, she had to guarantee her spot.
Kira always hated that she hadn’t spoken up more for herself, fought harder, but to her, that would sound like complaining… a sore loser. She was younger, eager to be liked, and she didn’t know how to fight back effectively without seeming difficult. So she let it go.
Antonia continued to get more praise, while doing less work to all around her. Kira got nothing. Remained in her role, respected, yes, but stuck. It was humiliating, painful, and the two drifted apart and remained that way even after Kira left the company. But it also forced her to reevaluate her way of thinking and seeing people, so-called friend or foe. She stopped being the behind-the-scenes girl. Stopped doing the work that could be stolen and made sure no matter how small the task, that her good work got her noticed.
Three months ago, at a rooftop start-of-summer event, Antonia was the tap on her shoulder that made her turn around. The noise from the music, people laughing, and bar staff clinking bottles and glasses would have muffled the cussing she didn’t know was still in her, but Kira just stared back at Antonia’s tanned, honey-toned face with a blank and unreadable expression. Antonia broke the tension. She began with the usual light starter chatter, how long it had been, how Kira looked amazing, where was she now, how she was sorry they lost touch. Everything and anything, but addressing the obvious. That alone made Kira remain resolute in that she’d not show that it still bothered her right up to this moment. Taking a deep breath, she followed Antonia’s nonchalant pretense until Naomi appeared from the bathroom, fixing her new cute chocolate-brown bob that complemented her smooth, medium brown skin tone. Naomi, however, looked Antonia up, down, and around with no fucks given. Naomi already knew who she was. Antonia sensed the sharp shift in temperature, said she’d reach out and left without looking back. The night continued on as if Antonia was never there.
A few days after Kira’s encounter, Antonia did in fact call her. It followed a long letter that Antonia had sent her expressing how much she’d missed their friendship. This time, on the call, common sense or a slap of reality, had flooded Antonia and she full-on apologized within their 97-minute conversation. Kira, being in a really good place now career-wise, better than Antonia, decided to accept the last of her rolling apologies around minute seventy-eight, when the Antonia she remembered from before the incident slowly showed back up on the other end of the line. Funny, bright, positive, all the things. Kira would never be able to forget their past, but she could work to move past it. The call ended with both of them in tears of laughter.
Tonight, on Friday, Antonia had invited Kira to her ‘Girls-Night Birthday’ event. Elevated drinks and delicious treats, so the evite said. Naomi already had lazy-day plans with Monica, her friend who was visiting from out of town. And besides, getting Naomi to spend an entire evening around Antonia and her “pretentious posse” would have required kidnapping, hostage negotiations, and the miracle of all miracles. Kira knew better than to even try. So she accepted the invitation and went solo.
And she wasn’t about to forgive Antonia just because Antonia wanted to pretend it never happened. Bringing a frou-frou artisan cake would be an intro-testing-the-waters kind of peace offering… a safe move all around. And Antonia loved fudge cake, the richer the better, having a sweet tooth that could put any toddler to shame. The opposite of Naomi who despised fudge and chocolate. Kira figured that Antonia would likely keep the cake to herself. Oh, she’d show it off to her guests as a tease, but God help anyone who cut it ahead of her approval.
Kira’s phone rang, and as she looked up after pulling it out of her purse, she could see that the end of the line had grown.
“Hey Kir!” It was Antonia.
“Hey… sorry, I’m running late. My pickup is taking longer than I planned… you,” In somewhat of a panic, Antonia cut her off before she continued.
“Girl, my apple tart order got messed up! The place is making me another one to order, which is crazy because they claim this is supposed to be their signature deluxe dessert… and most everyone else is already here, or trickling in, so I can’t even leave. Could you please swing by the store and pick it up on your way over?” Kira was almost about to drop that she was actually already in a bakery, and knew they’d have something that would more than replace her dessert. But then she stopped, letting Antonia carry on yapping, but not listening, because where did she think she was? How could Antonia know the store would be on her way? How come she didn’t ask one of her closest girls to do her this solid?
“I can shoot you the address easy enough. And they’re throwing in a few other items to make up for it… so they said, and as they should” Antonia snorted. A ding hit Kira in the ear, and she recognized that before she’d even agreed, Antonia had shared her cake store’s location. It was not on Kira’s way, not really. So she waited to hear a stream of appreciation, or gratitude from an old friend she’d done dirty who’d now be potentially saving her event. But nothing. Just more reminders, orders really to not just accept what extras Antonia’s cake shop had offered, but to prod them for more as this was completely their mistake.
“Kir, I gotta run… see you when you get here!” Antonia’s question hung in the air when she ended the call. As Kira waited, staring at nothing, she replayed the past. Old moments, old wounds, and old bullshit, and now this supposedly minor request just wasn’t sitting right. Kira scoffed, suddenly replaying one of Naomi’s much-used sayings, “Sometimes people bury the hatchet, right in your back.”
“I’m so sorry… Ma’am?” Kira snapped back to present facing the external voice directed at her from the young woman behind the counter.
“Oh, damn, I’m sorry… I didn’t hear you.”
“No worries! Apologies for the wait, we have your order all ready for you… I can box it up for you, if you have a few more minutes to wait. If not, I get it. You can take it as is.”
Confusing the woman, Kira looked behind her at what appeared to be a lemon bar cake with at least 4 layers. The kind Naomi would do jail time for. The young woman followed Kira’s eyes.
“Oh, that cake was made by accident… not by us, but a husband who sent in the wrong order. He paid for both cakes, but took only the right one.”
“Really? Can I get that one, too?”
“Do you really want both? You’ve been waiting forever, we can swap if you want, you’re a regular.”
“Oh hell yes! Thank you, I’ll just take the lemon one then! And, yeah, I’ll take it boxed, please,” The young woman matched Kira’s smile and rushed off to grab the new cake.
Antonia hadn’t really changed. Naomi might have been right after all and the letter she sent Kira, probably came straight from some AI chatbot.
“Oh, I forgot,” the young woman came back. “So you still want ‘Reserved for the Birthday Girl Only’ on the cake, in gold lettering, like the original order?”
Kira paused, looked back at the woman and smiled.
“Actually…” she said, “nah, can you change that to: Layers of Lemon. Years of True Friendship.”
Practicing out loud
Sharing some of my writing, these fiction bits as part of my creative reps, flaws and all. Keep going with your “thing,” too. Small consistent steps, even imperfect ones, make big moves forward.
