A Cause for Celebration

“I promise you it will be the greatest birthday cake! Full of flavor, color, and of course, it is a family recipe. Rooted in tradition!” Chrysanthemum announces to the entirety of southern Georgia’s very own Collection of Dignified Literary Ladies. The more pedestrian name for the group is a book club, but these ladies sneer at the thought of anything pedestrian.

Miss Juliet, the leader, quips, “Of course, Chrysanthemum. After all, your son is turning six-years-old. That’s quite an accomplishment, truly remarkable.”

Miss Juliet has always been a rather rude lady. She is revered in southern Georgia for her immense wealth, unfaultable family name, and gorgeous peach trees. She prefers her comments sizzling hot (and impossible to reply to). No one dares to defy Miss Juliet, or else they face banishment from the book club. Exile is a fate worse than death, for in this circle, your social standing is your lifeline.

Chrysanthemum laughs uncomfortably and silently fumes in her chair. She straightens the fold of her tweed jacket, flips her blonde hair off her shoulder, and forces a smile.

“Well, I cannot wait for you all to attend the party. It’s going to be fabulous.”

Miss Juliet purses her lips, “Yes, I suppose it will be.” She returns to her reading, signaling that she is done with the conversation.

Frantic, Chrysanthemum races home and pours herself into her baking. She smooths her gingham apron and whips out a tattered notecard from her recipe box. “Grandma’s Birthday Cake,” though plainly named, is going to be Chrysanthemum’s ticket to the top.

Spatulas coated in cake batter, sprinkles scattered around the floor, flour spread across the countertops—the frenzy of a desperate socialite is not unlike a wild animal. There is a hunger and determination in her eyes that cannot be tamed, driven mad by the want for acceptance. Her son, Liam, wanders into the kitchen searching for a snack.

“Momma, I’m hungry!”

“Sweetie, Mommy’s busy. I have a cake to bake,” she responds through gritted teeth as she mixes batter by hand.

“I don’t want cake anymore. I want ice cream!”

Chrysanthemum whips her head around with lightning speed: “Liam, do not be selfish. This is not about you. Now, go to your room and play with your toys!” it.”

Liam sulks off to his bedroom, confused and hurt. What is the purpose of a birthday party if not to celebrate the birthday boy? He consoles himself by formulating his birthday wish.

The day of the party of arrives. The crisp Sunday air wafts through the clean house. Spotless windows, trimmed grass, glistening floors, uneasy hostess. Chrysanthemum anxiously waits by the mailbox, scouting for cars filled with judgmental book club members.

Read-ahead Rita arrives with a large gift cradled in her arms. Bookmark Bertha comes and pinches Liam’s cheeks until they are red. I-prefer-the-movie Monique compliments Chrysanthemum’s outfit, but Chrysanthemum is not worried about any of these women. Only Miss Juliet.

An hour into the party, a dark shadow blankets Chrysanthemum’s frail figure. She glances up to see a pudgy woman draped in a velvet party dress and wearing a flamboyant hat, glaring down at her.

“Truly, Chrysanthemum, your desperation is even more distasteful than that perfume you’re wearing.”

After polite exchanges and typical party games, Chrysanthemum rounds her guests up for a slice of cake. Finally, she thinks, it's my time to shine. She slides her creation onto the tablecloth and scolds Liam for trying to dip his finger into the frosting.

“Ok, let’s all sing Happy Birthday, and then we’ll have some cake!” she nervously exclaims.

Liam blows out all six of his birthday candles and uses his carefully crafted wish. Chrysanthemum cuts the cake and even Miss Juliet indulges in a piece.

She grabs a silver fork and prepares to take a bite, her eyes closed in pleasure. Read-ahead Rita screeches and smacks Miss Juliet’s plate to the ground. The entire party tenses, silence covering them like fog. Rita screams, “Miss Juliet, no! There’s a spider in your cake! A spider! I saw it with my own eyes!”

Everyone glances down at the piece on the floor and notices the insect cocooned in the layer. Appalled, Miss Juliet wheels toward Chrysanthemum and squints.

“Next time, try to keep the animals outside.”

She struts away from the party, taking Chrysanthemum’s pride, as well as the other ladies, with her. Chrysanthemum pouts the rest of the day and never attends book club again.

But at least Liam’s birthday wish came true.

From: Can't Calm Your Mind