Birthday Cake (Part 1)
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Birthday Cake
Part 1
The first light of dawn barely made its way through the small, grimy window of the men’s homeless shelter where Yona had spent another restless night groaning and turning in his bed. This desolate place he had called home for close to two years now after his brief time in prison. However restless all his nights were here, this particular past night had been heavier, coming to him with weighty thoughts, piercing ones; he could not sleep, not at all.
For the past two weeks, he had thought about the same thing constantly, his daughter, Amy. As he lay on that rickety bed last night, surrounded by the snores of other souls like him—downtrodden and hopeless—his mind raced: what would he do for his daughter? It was her fifth birthday. He was conflicted, his heart split between joy for his daughter’s special day and a gnawing fear that he might fail to be there for her, again.
Ever since he left home two and a half years ago, he had not seen her nor had he in any form been present on any of her other special days. The thoughts of his absence from his child’s life silently killed him every day. He carried a grudging guilt in his heart and last night that guilt had come alive, ensnaring his heart. Amy was his one valuable thing in life, his everything and his last hope. If he had had to realize anything from all he had been through, it was, to be available for Amy, anyway.
Two and a half years ago, life had started out promising; there was clarity as to where he was headed, a bright future was certain. He had found a job, well-paying. He had found a wife, jolly and loving, Leah who had given him Amy, his daughter. Around them, he had built a family and home. Things were okay. Then in a blink of an eye, things changed, they did not fall piece by piece, things crumbled down at once, one morning. The future that had really looked bright turned bleak and bloated.
He had arrived at the office one morning; he remembers and was presented with the worst news of his life. There had been a staff reshuffle and it had been determined he would be relieved of his duties. He can remember his heart racing that morning, he can still smell the foul air that circulated the office, he can see the contorted lips of his boss then delivering the news, he can still feel the panic his legs experienced; every time he thinks about it, it all comes back to him sweeping across his body like a storm.
From there it was a nosedive into despair. As hard as he tried, jobs could not come through; no one was getting back to him about his job applications. He had a family to take care of, bills to settle that just wouldn’t stop coming. Leah took over the roles of provision for the family but how long could she hold on with that small income from her small job at the small supermarket and what if she lost it too, where would they be? Yona was terrified. This is not what he had envisioned; things were not supposed to be like this. He had grown up in a household where there had been no father.
He had seen his mum suffer and break to keep his siblings and him well cared for. He remembers swearing, pumping his fists that his family would never have to go through that; he would be a man, a man responsible for his family. And there he was, the vicious cycle on the verge of repeating itself, what was he going to do, walk away like his dad, like a million other men out there who just wake up and take off? He swore with grit that it would never be him. How he hated his dad for that. How he despised such behavior, not him.
He was determined to stand and fight for Leah and Amy. Determined to fight, he was, but how, how this time? He had no income to support his determination in the fight. He was getting restless, losing weight and this kind of helplessness drove him mad.
Months into having all the family responsibilities on her shoulders, Leah was beginning to feel the strain. She had hoped it would only be a little while before her husband found a job soon. When she got the news of him having been laid off, she’d remained calm and was so sure it would only be a while, a little while before he found another. People always lost and found jobs, didn’t they? She had shrugged.
She had taken on the family responsibilities with an assurance; it was only a little while. She would manage, her husband assured her too. Despite the assurance, months passed and soon it was six months, Yona was not waking up to work. The pressure of rent and all the home bills was taking a toll on her, she took on extra shifts at work, she was barely home. When she returned, she would be exhausted and worn out.
Yona being home, Leah had expected that he would at least assume the domestic duties, come in handy with home chores; cook for them, take care of the house and babysit Amy. She was wrong. Returning home from work, as tired as she would be, she would head straight for the kitchen, wrapping an apron atop her supermarket uniform, to cook dinner for them. Dinner ready, she would serve Yona and before she could eat, she would ensure Amy was fed. Done eating, Leah would bathe Amy and tuck her into her little bed while she told her bedtime stories.
Sometimes she’d be overwhelmed and doze off alongside Amy only to wake up deep in the night and stagger to her room where Yona would be snoring deeply. All the while, Yona would be in the same spot, in the living room, catching his late games on TV, a remote in his hand. For six months, Leah returned home and found Yona in that same spot, sometimes with Amy playing on the floor, while Leah did what she did. He would only leave that spot when Leah finally, after all her night duties, went to their room.
So, for months, life carried on that way. At first, Leah was patient and calm. She thought he would finally come to his senses; see her fatigued and overwhelmed by the heavy responsibilities. He didn’t. Once in a while, she would nudge him to help her and he would but while dragging complaints along about a show, a highlight, a game, a score—something he’d be missing on TV.
Then he would narrate how he had had a busy day with job applications, reminding her that evenings were his time to rest and refresh. Leah was astounded that he could be that unreasonable, that somehow, he was blind to her own fatigue, to her wearing out, to what she was trying to do for the family.
She did not know what to say; she could not find the language to express her own woes, like dozing off most of the time at work, like feelings of stress and fear and anxiety about the future of their household. She could not get herself to express how tired she was getting to Yona; she felt angry at herself for such inability. The marriage had started well. It had been everything she had at least wished for, but that test was too big, too painful. She feared she would not manage. When Yona was not watching, she would find herself crying, mostly when she took showers, when she took Amy to bed even in the kitchen while she cooked.
So it was, life carried on that way for months, for six months; Yona being jobless and Leah carrying all the responsibilities on her own. It was in the sixth month that the arguments began.
One morning, Leah woke up; she was tired, her body aching and feverish from all the fatigue. It was a weekend, Amy was crying in her room, Yona heard her cry. Leah heard her too, but she had been so tired, too weak to leave the bed. Yona had insisted she go check on the baby while he continued his sleep. His excuse: he still felt sleepy. With all the fatigue, Leah left the bed—it was Amy, her baby—dragged herself across the house to check on her crying baby. The baby’s temperature was high; she had picked up an infection.
That morning, despite being informed, Yona continued in slumber while Leah paced the streets, heaving and dragging her legs to the nearby clinic. She paid the bill with her credit card. That day she’d returned home with a sick child, with extra expenses and with more errands to run at home.
It was then that she broke. She could not have it anymore. When she married, she had said yes to a partner that would be ever-present in their struggles. She had had enough. It was then that the arguments, unending arguments began at home. They had started small—over bills, over housework, over dwindling savings, over Yona’s lack of income, over Amy’s care.
Leah started to be demanding, demanding Yona become the man of the house again. She couldn’t be breaking down for a grown-up man. Could she? But the arguments grew in intensity, became louder, more frequent with words, unforgiving words, unbearable words without any holding back that Yona would go looking for a bottle with friends to assuage his rupturing mind.
One harrowing day, Leah wanted to buy milk for Amy, only milk, but her card was purged of any pennies; she checked her bag for any leftover cash, there was no coin, not one. Overwhelmed and frightened by their financial spiral, by their inability to afford even the simple things, the basic things like milk for their baby, she lashed out.
That day, Leah’s words had cut deeper than ever, branding Yona a bigger loser and a failure as both provider and father. He had felt betrayed; how could she? For she knew what he was going through but more than that, deep inside, he feared she might be right, she might be right this time that he had failed them.
Examining and re-examining himself, he felt, he looked indeed not a man who could provide and an unfit father to a beautiful baby girl. He saw the cycle repeating itself; his dad had left when he was still young, he never returned and to date, he knew him not. All his life he had sworn and worked hard never to be like his dad and yet there he was, a sad moment of his childhood unfolding before his eyes bit by bit.
The last weeks leading to this moment, had he not woken up in the night and looked at his wife sleeping, had he not considered himself a burden in her life and Amy’s, and feared it was best that he left, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?
He had, Yona remembers it all now. That day after Leah had labeled him a failure, he had left the house that afternoon, his heart burdened, his mind aflame. He had wanted just to take a walk to soothe his mind, just to be alone for a moment and think clearly, sieve through the inglorious echoes but the sting of Leah’s accusations could not leave him alone. Instead of the walk, he joined friends to seek solace in a bottle, his only escape from the crushing weight of his failures.
When he returned, his judgment clouded and emotions raw, the arguments restarted, escalated quickly and destructively. Over loud voices, over hateful words, furniture was overturned, dishes shattered on the floor. In her fear, Leah, carrying her crying baby, had called the police and that night was the last night, the last time Yona saw the inside of the home he had built with love. It’s the last time he saw Amy, the last time he heard from Leah.
From there, he had been to prison for a few weeks and then gone to being homeless and distraught. Life took a nosedive, life betrayed him. After the prison, he could only hold onto the bottle harder as a companion. Once in a while, he tried other stronger substances when the bottle failed to assuage his moods.
There was no hope for him, the future was bleak, he felt the end near most of the time. Most of the time, these past days, he had been contemplating ending it by himself. He had considered doing it with sleeping pills and every time he finally decided, he was held back by thoughts of his daughter. Nights were the worst times of his days. It is then that every fear, every emotional burden, every pain came alive.
He never slept. He thought about Amy, saw her growing. Saw her asking questions about where her father went. Sensed her hatred for him for having just walked off, giving up on her. Who were her friends? Who was her best teacher? What did she like most at school? What is her favorite meal now, does she still enjoy chocolate and whipped cream? And what is her height now? He ravaged through all sorts of questions about Amy, questions that you only ask, ask, nothing more.
Amy was the one on his mind, this day in particular; she had to be on his mind. It was her fifth birthday. For two weeks, God knows, he had paced the streets, begged where possible, tried to sell some rags of his clothes to fellow downtrodden compatriots at his shelter, but who had money among them, even if they were proper clothings? He was desperate. Surely, there was something he could do, some gift he could find and show up for Amy’s fifth birthday.
He'd left the shelter, walked off in despair to find something, however small for Amy. Roaming the streets, the only decent clothes he could manage, he wore: a black hooded jumper zipped to the neck with only a vest inside, paling almost turned white, black, stained jeans, threading at the buttocks and ruptured, muddy white sneakers. On his head to hide the overly grown hair, curling and caking with dust, was a cap, ironically new, brand new almost magically he had found it lying by the bin at the shelter.
Hours were flying by, it was approaching late afternoon hours and fast, he had not been able to find anything. With his new cap, he had been at several intersections begging in windows of vehicles held by lights. No driver had dared lower their window. He knew this game far too well by now. They never roll down their windows. They, never. But he was desperate, he needed to find some money to find something for his girl. He had not eaten anything except for the slice of bread when he left the shelter at 6 O'clock.
He was hungry. He was getting tired. He had a hangover too. He always had a hangover to deal with nowadays. He no longer walked; rather, he dragged his feet across the streets, begging and soliciting from passersby. At some point, he had been at a bus stop, cried that he had a girl waiting for him, it was her birthday, he had to find something for her. People had shrugged and laughed him off. Liars! Those guys always lie. He just needs pennies for more drugs, more pints of alcohol.
He needed a brief rest. Left the street passing shops and cafes to find a wall with a shed he could sit at and rest his head a bit. Dragging past the shops and cafes, he saw the cake in the coffee café. It was not a whole cake; it was a slice. A quarter of a whole medium-sized cake. He thought to himself, if I could afford that, just that, it would be enough to impress Amy. He had stood long, gawked at it. It was labeled five dollars. Just five dollars. He could find five dollars, only five dollars and he would have a birthday cake for his girl to show up with.
To rest, he had not stopped to rest; rather, he had paced back and forth in front of the shop. Excited. Then gone back to begging. He knew what he wanted for his girl. He just needed to find five dollars. He walked the street. Braved the scorching heat. Dragged from vehicle to vehicle, passerby to passerby. No one stopped for him. Only one old woman had stopped and it was only for a dollar. He had felt hopeful with that dollar but that was it. The day turned to evening. He got desperate. He got angry that he could not find five dollars. He was out of time. It would take him an hour walking to his old address to meet Amy. He had no time.
It’s there it crossed his mind. He had refused the thought of it. That was a nasty thing to do. That would be too desperate. He could not stand to go back to prison. However, the thought kept coming. Presenting itself as the only viable, affordable, remaining option. No, he could not. For hours he wrestled with the thought but, but…
The coffee café owner did not see him enter the shop. He was swift. Jumped behind the counter. Grabbing the cake. The owner only noticed him jumping back and before she could make an alarm, he was out of the door. Police were called. Police arrived. Police examined the camera footage. There he was, Yona grabbing the cake. Yona running out with the cake.
“I know this one,” one of the officers had recognized him, “he is my in-law, come on, let’s go, I know where to find him.” The officer was Leah’s brother, Levy; he knew it was Amy’s birthday, his niece, in fact, he was supposed to be at Leah’s place in a few hours after his shift to celebrate Amy’s birthday with Leah.
Breathless, heaving with terror. There he was, clutching to the slice of cake in his hands. The cake was scaling, melting out of shape, in some part, where he first forcefully grabbed were his visible finger marks. Yona stood outside his former address, a house he knew too well but now was restrained from getting inside or even near it. The judge had been clear.
The sirens could be heard in the distance, the police getting closer and closer. He knew those sirens were for him. He didn’t care. He knew this is where he had to be this evening. The only place, celebrating his daughter. He started to holler. He hollered loud, almost groaning, almost crying, “Amy, Amy, Amy! It’s Daddy! I brought you a cake, sweetheart!"
No one answered the door, he could see the lights on in the house through the windows. He knew, Amy was there. He had to shout harder. He hollered harder and harder, “Amy, Amy, come on, my daughter,” he was crying, tears now streaming down his dirty cheeks, “Amy, my daughter, Daddy is here, come pick your cake.” Police sirens drew close; he could hear they were meters away.
He called louder. Then the door opened. Not fully. It was Leah holding it ajar, furious. She couldn’t believe the sight. Where had Yona gone? What was this? For a moment, she felt a tingle of pity come, float over her disgust and anger that etched across her face. Yona continued calling, clutching to his cake all the while.
Then just as the police vehicle pulled in the driveway, behind Leah, Amy’s small form, pushed past her mum’s figure, running towards Yona. Yona dropped the cake, Levy, the policeman, Leah’s brother and his partner sprung out of the car running towards Yona. Levy and his partner running towards Yona. Yona running towards the approaching Amy followed by her mum behind while she cries, “Daddy, Daddy,”
Before Yona could reach Amy, he was grabbed by Levy, pulling him back just in time as Leah caught up with Amy. Yona went down to his knees, his arms stretching out. Amy stretching out hers too, kicking and fighting to break loose from Leah’s grip. Yona was distraught, crying and hollering at once, “Please, please just once let me touch my daughter… please, wait, just a minute, just a minute, it’s her birthday, let me hug her.” Leah walked the fighting Amy back to the door while she cried to be with her dad and held her there.
Yona sat there; sobbing held back by Levy while his partner moved over to Leah to check if they were okay. Levy, his expression a complex mix of pity and duty. "Yona, you shouldn’t be here," he said gravely, “you shouldn’t be here,” he repeated. For a moment, Yona’s eyes wandered and he saw the cake spread, jumbled up in the grass, one of Levy’s foot stepping on its muddled crumbs.
EzroniX Short Stories.
