15 January 1990
Cake
“Carol had to leave for work early this morning, Nathan.” Nat sat on the edge of his little cot, pulling off his pajama top and pulling on a sweatshirt. He reflexively turned his back to Nathan because he was ashamed of his chest. Its lack of any noticeable development. “So I’ll be making breakfast. What would you like?”
“I know Carol prides herself on always doing something fancy. But lately I’ve had a taste for Cream of Wheat.”
“Good. Because fancy is not my department. And Cream of Wheat has directions on the box.” Nat stood, and pulled sweatpants on over his boxer shorts. “Do you need me to bring you the bed pan before I go?”
“No, thank you. After breakfast will be fine.”
“OK. One Cream of Wheat. Coming up.”
“With a little butter, please. And some milk.”
“Check.”
Just as Nat was leaving the room, Nathan said, “Nat?” Nat turned back and leaned in the open doorway, waiting. “Make that a lot of butter. And cream. It just suddenly hit me. I can stop watching my weight now.”
“I’ll go along with that,” Nat said. Trying to sound bright. Trying to cover the mood crash that hit him every time he had to be reminded. “Oh. I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s your favorite kind of cake, Nathan?”
“For breakfast?”
“In general.”
“Hmm.” He gingerly sat up a little more in bed, propping an extra feather pillow behind his back. “I’d say lemon cake.”
“Really? Lemon?”
“What’s wrong with lemon?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. But I’d never have thought lemon. If it were me I’d have gone with something like chocolate with chocolate frosting. Or even German chocolate.”
“We’re all different. That’s the beauty of diversity. Why are you asking me about cake?”
“Carol wants to make you a cake for your birthday.”
“Tell her not to buy the ingredients just yet.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Nathan. It’s only, like, three weeks from now.”
“You’re right. I apologize.”
“I’ll go make some Cream of Wheat.”