The Writer’s Corner features poetry, essays, short stories, satire and various fiction and non-fiction from SCAD Atlanta students. To submit your own work for the Writer’s Corner, email features@scadconnector.com.
On the corner of 15th and Brighton there’s a little pink bakery with big windows and bougainvillea dripping from the flower boxes outside. There’s an awning that only shades half the customers who sit outside on a warm summer day, but it is popular nonetheless. It’s a place everyone notices when they pass by. Young girls stop to take pictures in front of it and families pop in for brunch. It’s the ideal spot for a casual first date, where the employees in matching aprons can witness firsthand the awkwardness of a coffee date, turn into something a little bit sweeter.
Inside, it’s a confectioner’s dream with baby pink pinstripes on the walls and butter yellow chairs. The crystal chandeliers are spray painted blue to match the aprons in Shelly’s signature blue, her favorite color. And it’s all run by one petite woman with the particular affinity for baking, despite her skinny nature.
The front door opening rings the bell, and the two women behind the counter perk up at the sound. Lisa’s at the register while Shelly is shaking ruby sprinkles on the raspberry and chocolate ganache cupcakes behind the counter.
A young woman walks in, her strawberry blonde hair is woven into a messy braid and her skin is covered in freckles. She fusses with her hair to get it out of her face, that’s when they notice the ring.
“Hi how can I help you?” Shelly says, her pony tail bouncing behind her.
“Hi, I’m here for the 10:30 appointment with Shelly. I’m Kit,” she says.
“Oh good I’m glad you found a parking spot! Busy down here today, isn’t it?” She says. “I’m Shelly, nice to meet you.”
“Wait you’re Shelly?” Kit eyes her. Even behind the counter and through the glass case filled with sugary perfection, it’s clear this Shelly is not fat.
Lisa, the one running the cash register laughs. She’s curvier than Shelly, with messier hair and glasses that indent on her cheeks.
“That’s the whole joke, isn’t it? The girl who loves baking is the most petite out of all of us. Wish I had her good genes,” Lisa says. “I’d be better off opening up a bar, calling it Tipsy Lisa’s.”
“Sounds like fun,” Kit says.
They offer Kit a glass of water and tell her to take a seat in the booth by the window.
The bell rings again and Kit looks up with the false hope that maybe it’s Jacob walking through the door so she doesn’t have to do this alone. It’s not. The man who just walked in is the opposite of Kit’s fiancé. This man has wildly curly light brown hair that’s too long to be sophisticated. Might be long enough for a man bun, Kit smirks at the thought of trying to braid it.
Shelly and Lisa greet him as he crosses the line between customer and employee, going behind the counter and throwing on another blue apron.
“Can you grab those Plain Janes from the back?” Shelly asks him.
With a nod, he disappears into the kitchen and returns with a tray of plain cookies. Shelly rapidly fills up the empty slot in easy succession. Their label reads chocolate chip-less cookies. There’s one left over and he steals it.
“Graham!” Shelly scolds as he puts the cookie in his mouth.
“What? I made them,” he says.
“They’re for the customers.” Shelly hollers to Kit across the bakery for everyone to hear, “Kit? Will you need just one set of samples today or two?”
“Just one,” Kit says, much more quietly than Shelly. She doesn’t want the entire bakery to know her beloved fiancé had better plans.
Lisa and Shelly smile at her as if wedding cake tasting alone is perfectly normal. But there’s other customers in the café and they all seem to be eavesdropping on her absent fiancé from the wedding cake tasting. Kit shrinks low in the happy colored booth, sipping on her water and fiddling with her ring that’s sized just a hair to big. It spins on her finger too easily. It’s become a nervous tick.
“At the cake testing now,” Kit sends Jacob a text.
He sends her back a thumbs up. Not even a word. She should give him grace, he’s out with his needy family on their usual Sunday morning bonding brunch. But annoyance still lingers inside her, he can’t miss out on one Sunday?
“But this is the bride’s thing,” Jacob told her last night, “just get vanilla. You know that’s what I like.”
Shelly approaches holding a tiered cake stand with a dozen of bite sized samples in a variety of creams, yellows, browns, pinks, and a deep red, all sitting on miniature white doilies. Shelly also sets down a scrapbook filled with pictures of cake styles, from classy floral and delicate lacy detailing, to modern geometric cakes. There’s even a full section dedicated to cake toppers to perfectly mimic their real life counterparts in full suits and dresses.
“Now of course I’m biased,” Shelly says, taking the seat across from Kit. “But I think the cake is the best part of the wedding. Any flavors you’re initially gravitating towards? We have the classics, vanilla, chocolate, marble, red velvet—”
“Vanilla,” Kit says.
Kit had every intention of making this quick. Getting in and out with the vanilla cake and the delivery date set. Maybe browse the cake toppers but there’s no need to linger.
But when that plain vanilla bean flavor hits her tongue, she’s really not excited about it. Sure, it’s a classic. But this is her wedding day, Kit can’t help but crave a little bit more excitement. After all, with this bridal boot camp she’s doing, she wants a worthy pay-off in the calorie section of her big day.
Shelly has learned which couples will last based on the cake flavors they choose. Red velvet is a safe choice, that couple will be just fine with their subtle passion and flare. Same with chocolate in any variety, that couple maintains a love for the classic and reliable. Lemon cakes are always a hit, the couple too, usually being the life of the party couple. The seasonal flavors
either lead to an awesome marriage or an epic divorce, pure fifty/fifty. But when the girl in front of her is craving anything besides vanilla, Shelly gets a little nervous for her.
“Do you like chai?” Shelly asks.
“Actually, yes. My go-to at coffee shops.”
Shelly points out a buttery white sample, with flecks of brown mixed into the sponge cake. A dollop of white frosting rests on top.
“This is a chai cake, one of my big sellers. It’s a simple butter cake with chai tea mixed into the batter. Also some added cinnamon and nutmeg for additional spice. It’s subtle, but with a little bit more excitement than just plain vanilla.”
Kit takes a small bite of the cake, being careful with her sampling choices. These all are additional calories she’ll have to work off later at boot camp. Every bite is seven extra burpees, maybe more. She felt that vanilla sample go right to her thighs.
But this chai cake makes her melt, her shoulders droop with delight and it feels like her taste buds are having a dance party. She doesn’t care about those extra calories now, she eats the whole bite sized sample. It’s worth it.
“Thought you’d like that one,” Shelly grins.
After that, Kit looses all composure with her calorie count. She’s trying out wedding cakes, so she has to try them all. At least the ones that look particularly appealing. She avoids the peanut butter though. But that chai cake reigns supreme, as vanilla quickly falls to the bottom of her list.
With the massacre of cake crumbs and doilies littering the table, Kit announces that the chai is still her favorite. Shelly believes her work is done, and leaves Kit to go help Lisa with the lattes. The after church crowd has arrived and the bakery is buzzing with activity. Lisa is darting between the register, the coffee machine, and yelling out customer’s names.
Graham replaces Shelly’s seat, holding a notecard.
“Alright so you’re a fan of the chai?” He asks Kit.
“Yes, very big fan.”
“Awesome,” he says while taking notes on the card. “It’s one of my favorites too. That and the peanut butter.”
Kit grimaces.
The front door’s bell rings and Lisa greets the next customer. It’s the absent fiancé, Jacob.
“Hi welcome to Fat Shelly’s what can I help you with?”
Jacob breezes right by her, spotting Kit sitting at the booth. She’s with some guy in a blue apron. Clearly a worker but something in the way they’re laughing, his fiancée casually laughing like friends with this random baker. Jacob approaches the booth.
“How can you not like peanut butter?” The guy says. “That’s like a fundamental element in the American diet.”
“I just never have,” she says through laughter.
Kit has her ring turned around, hiding the gorgeous princess cut ring Jacob picked out for her. Its like a secret, only revealing to the world the simple silver band, engraved with his name in curly writing. But that’s not the point of a diamond.
“Hey babe,” Jacob says, interrupting them.
“Oh hi,” Kit looks up. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Walked up from brunch,” he kisses her on the forehead.
“This is my boyfriend, Jacob,” Kit introduces them.
“Fiancé,” Jacob corrects. He holds out his hand for a hand shake but Graham goes for a fist bump. Jacob pulls his fingers into a fist too late, and their right hand collision is incredibly awkward.
“Looks like you liked all the samples,” Jacob says, eyeing the crumbs and bent doilies.
“Would you like to try anything? We have more,” Graham says.
“No worries, we know what we want,” he says. “Three tiered vanilla cake, vanilla frosting.”
“Actually,” Kit says, “Shelly had me taste all these amazing other flavors, you’ve got to try them. There’s this chai one and it’s to die for —”
“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Jacob says.
“Sure, no problem,” Graham says. He leaves the table and returns to the safety behind the glass counter. Lisa, Shelly, and Graham all exchange a look that only friends can understand. Couples disagree on cake flavors all the time. But there’s ways around it. One tier for the white
chocolate raspberry, and one tier for the red velvet. Shelly’s even made two separate cakes, one fashioned to look like a tuxedo and one to look like a wedding dress, different flavors. The wedding cake isn’t the hard part of a wedding.
Kit and Jacob approach the counter after a discussion where Jacob talked at Kit, and she listened.
“We’ll take the vanilla,” Kit says. Jacob has his arm around her in an affectionate way, projecting a mutual decision.
“Are you sure? We have options for different flavored tiers or —”
“Nope, just the vanilla is fine,” Jacob says with a smile. With a swipe of his credit card and their date written on the calendar, the couple leaves the store.
“How long do you think they’ll last?” Lisa asks.
“A year, maybe two,” Shelly says.
The wedding date is six months away. And Shelly highlighted in yellow, meaning it’s a maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s cancelled their wedding cake order. A wedding cake is one of the easier obstacles a couple will have to overcome with their fiancé. And in this bakery, they know vanilla is doomed.
