Devil's Food Cake [✓]

50 | somewhere over the rainbow cake

It was the longest walk I'd ever done. I got caught out in the warm summer drizzle as I came out of the tube station on my way back home that evening. I didn't have to worry about my parents tonight as they had informed me they were going away for the weekend to visit some family friends outside London. I believe they were in the Lake District (with all the shit that had occurred this evening, I realised that my brain was foggy on details).

They wouldn't be back until Sunday evening. I'd have a whole weekend to think about the full consequences of my actions and soak in all my confused emotions.

I was a mess.

I hadn't expected the two guys I'd admired the most to turn their backs on me.

Yes, even though Zachary was the biggest arsehole in history, I grudgingly realised that I admired some of his qualities.

A deep hole gnawed away at me with regards to my treatment of them. My mind was full of what ifs, swarming around like irate wasps, reminding me that I was a terrible person.

In situations where I was emotionally overwhelmed, I decided to distract myself in the only way I knew how — baking a cake.

I flicked through my notebook and decided to try an old familiar recipe that I had almost perfected but was still working on.

Rainbow cake.

Mopping up my tears, I set to work.

* * *

While I was working away, I had put on old episodes of Charmed in the background for company. I loved that show. I sometimes wished I was supernaturally blessed. And the girls felt like my sisters. I'd watched all of the episodes at least three times. When Prue left the show, I was saddened. My dad had drive to the shops to get me some bags of marshmallows and Oreos. Albeit, the show had run on a bit too long and the special effects were corny, but it remained in my top ten TV shows of all time. As you can tell, I was a bit of a Charmed fangirl.

My thoughts, previously in overdrive, were calmed as I focused on the task ahead of me. I had always struggled with the rainbow cake. Mine wasn't bad as such. It's just something seemed to always go wrong, whether that be with the cream cheese frosting, the layers of coloured sponge, or the height of the cake. Meanwhile, my dad and Dorothy could knock out the perfect Rainbow cake with seeming effortlessness. Their versions were distinct and individual when it came to appearances, texture, density and taste.

My dad's version was a study in fun and exuberance. He went all out in the decorations on top of the cake. He designed something which wouldn't have looked out of place in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. There were handmade lollipops of various colours and patterns which stuck out of the icing like a patch of flowers on soil. When you cut into the cake, it had the added surprise of gold covered smarties gushing out in the middle.

While Dorothy's attempt had been a chocolate version with moist Madagascan vanilla seed sponge much to our delight. She'd been more restrained with her decoration, opting for sprinkles bordering parts of the cake. The end result had been a simple and pretty cake that my Dad had gone crazy over. That was great for her, not so good for me as I'd had to deal with her smugness for three weeks.

My cake had looked lovely with it's colourful roses sitting delicately on the top, but once my dad and had tasted it, he'd winced. "Candy! Goodness, this is insanely sweet! You're going to give us all diabetes."

Dorothy who had glowered at my cake when she'd first seen it, suddenly burst out laughing. I reddened and was about to protest, but took a deep breath. I took a mouthful and knew Dad was right.

My sponge was fluffy and light, but I'd miscalculated the amount of sugar I'd have to put in the batter.

This time I'd made some adjustments to my recipe. Like dealing with customers, there was always room for improvement in baking, I'd discovered. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but think of the two guys I'd let down. Their faces drifted into my consciousness as I toiled away on my creation like a sculptress. Jonny was probably walking in the nearby square by his flat. Now he'd returned home.

He hated me now, but I knew he liked me — a lot.

Zachary didn't really care about me. He probably thought I was some alien from a different planet. Our worlds were miles apart. He felt sorry for us.

If my father hadn't saved his life, he would never have offered to help him. Sure, he would have come back to taunt me as was his habit, but I doubted he'd have been empathetic and generous enough to invest in us.

It was fluke luck.

At sunrise, I watched my skilled tapered fingers resolutely spreading cream cheese frosting onto the coloured sponge. I would finish decorating my cake in the afternoon, once I'd caught up on my sleep. Slumping on my bed, I still had his name reverberating in my head. A pebble skipping across a still surface of pond water. Ripples of regret.

When I closed my eyes, his face made an appearance across the glassy coolness too.

What had I done?