the alchemy of cake

i don't remember exactly when i first saw her eager face peeking through the screen door of the gym. "Hi, Everybody!" she pronounced loudly, with a sort of detached enthusiasm. i don't remember what possessed me to start talking to her. it was a few times after her first appearance, after i'd simply responded back "Hi!" that i felt it was time to say more. it was clear she wanted to talk.

i was awkward. i don't know how to talk to adolescents in general, let alone...her. i joked, something about, "do you want to come work out with us? do you do any sports?" she doesn't do any sports, and she didn't seem interested in what i was doing. she asked if any of us lived "around here". embarrassed, i listed the cities and neighborhoods where we all were from, avoiding admitting the fact that we were of a different socioeconomic classes, she and us, and so, no, no one lives in the rough neighborhood in which the gym resides.

the gym is on the boundary of a rough neighborhood in Bridgeport. we must be quite the sight, mostly white, fit, well-dressed, running down the sidewalk in the early morning hours, striding over crumbling curbs, veering into the street to avoid uneven pavement, capitalizing on the goodwill of drivers waiting at the intersection we are crossing when the light turns green, hoping to make every second count. they are waiting at bus stops, driving to work in half-broken down cars, waiting at the day laborer pick-up spot, hoping to make every hour count. we occupy the same space, but we occupy different worlds.

she is slow to respond to my questions. this makes me more uncomfortable. why is she taking so long to answer? did she get enough sleep? enough to eat? is she on drugs? did her mom drug her? she isn't disengaged in a rebellious way -- she's not a teenager, yet. her smile is genuine. she is shy, yet curious. she was the one who initiated the contact, after all. it haunts me, her delay in answering. i want to know what she is thinking. maybe she'd just prolonging the interaction, reluctant to leave the sliver of our overlapping worlds and return to hers.

the first or second time, i can't even remember, that we had an actual conversation, i was asking about school -- how many days left? -- she revealed that tomorrow was her birthday. how old? 11. any big plans? will there be cake in class? will they sing for you? the questions were out of my mouth before i realized the potential insensitivity of them. her 11th birthday might hold different expectations than my 11th birthday did, which took place in a comfortably middle class nearly all-white  existence in a small town in the Midwest. she was her typical slow self to respond, so i couldn't read how out of touch my probing questions were.

i happened to be working 2nd shift that day, and had planned to go to the grocery store after class. she and her birthday were on my mind as i rounded the corner to the bakery section. while cake was the traditional choice for birthdays, a 6-pack of cupcakes didn't seem quite right, like i was trying too hard, like i expected her to share, to have friends, to have a school that didn't find bringing in cake on a birthday to be unusual. i spotted a display of large sugar cookies, individually wrapped and decorated with brightly-colored frosting in the guise of animals and insects. i chose a blue butterfly. something told me she liked blue.

the next day, her birthday, i carefully packed her cookie in a smaller bag, which i kept out on the gym floor. i made sure to claim a workout spot close to the door, as she often showed up just before the end of class. sometimes, we were already done with the workout, and i could talk to her without too many people noticing. but today, we were in the middle of stretching. everyone seated and quiet and attentive. she proclaimed her presence with her usual vociferous "Hi!" i responded with "Hi!...Happy birthday!" to which other gym members mumbled a birthday greeting, surprised that i knew it was her birthday. i hesitated, because all eyes were on me and this girl, but i'd come this far in my gesture and would regret not seeing it through. i jumped up from my stretch and said, "I have something for you." i grabbed the cookie from my bag, and went outside to give it to her. i said something along the lines of "I thought you'd like this." she was slow to process what was happening, as she'd been slow to process my past questions. but i could tell she was registering surprise. she hadn't expected anything from me, a near-complete stranger on her birthday.

that was Thursday. i didn't go to the gym on Friday. today was Monday.

i wasn't even thinking of her, my weekend had been so busy and hectic. my life in general busy and hectic. i'd forgotten about her world, that she would be looking to enter that tiny sliver of overlap at 7:20 am, even if just for a minute. the door to the gym was closed this morning, as the coach had the meager A/C on to keep the building summer humidity at bay. i'd finished the workout and was cheering other people on, when i saw her face at the window. she was peering in, hands cupped to the pane so she could see into the dim interior. her breath was fogging up the pane, and she was knocking, trying to get someone's attention, desperately seeking entree into that sliver. i went to the door and stepped outside.

"Hi! How are you?" I said enthusiastically. i was in a good mood. I'd PR'd a lift i hated, and gotten a shy new member to open up to me. "how many days left of school? 2?"

"One," she replied with a sly smile. "Your last day! How exciting!" that sly smile again. she was excited, in her muted way, for her last day of school. "What's your name?" I asked. she told me her, and I told her mine. I've forgotten her name already. it was unusual, one i hadn't heard before, in my world. i'm bad with names, and i tried to hang onto it, but it's gone. my day, my busy life, pushed it out of my mind.

the rapidity, for her at least, with which she asked the next question divulged that it had been on her mind. "Were you the one who gave me the blue butterfly?"

it took me a second to recall what had been on the cookie. i'd bought it 5 days ago, an eternity in my whirlwind life. i was processing both the color of the frosting, the shape of the cookie, and what it meant that she was asking this questions. maybe she noticed i was slow to respond. maybe she wondered what was taking me so long. did i get a good night's sleep? did i have enough for breakfast? was i on drugs?

"Yes..." and then i felt awkward again. how to admit that i liked her, cared about her, wanted to do something nice for her, but didn't want it to seem like too grand a gesture, like charity. "i thought you would enjoy a treat on your birthday."

the awkwardness that i created for myself pushed me to end the conversation abruptly. "well, i should get back inside and cheer people on." i'm certain this made no sense to her, confirmed her suspicions of my drug-addled state. "good-bye".

it dawned on me later that if this was her last day of school, it might be the last time i see her until the fall. that realization sat in pit of my stomach like a rock. i blew it. she wanted more; i cut her off. my inability to deal with uncomfortable feelings, of interacting with a person from a different world, whom i didn't understand, who i was putting thoughts and feelings and words into her head and heart and mouth, who i was making assumptions about based on my experiences and world-view...that is the tragedy.  i missed an opportunity to cement a deeper connection by making future plans, by reaching out to engage her, enlist her, invite her back into that sliver of overlap of our worlds. an opportunity to grow that sliver, day by day, interaction by awkward interaction, into a full-fledged slice of cake.