The Cake Is Rich

I am bill? · by Bill Berger

The Cake Is Rich

I am eleven and sitting at my paternal grandmother’s elevendieth birthday.

I am sitting in front of my rarely seen cousin from my rarely seen paternal aunt. She’s looking pleased as we’re about to eat cake. My father had gone to a special bakery in the city that had a faddy cake that he had to order in advance. It looked like a collection of dino heads in a circle with open mouths and swirling tongues. It was beautiful.

The bleeding edge added something extra to each slice and we’re ready to dig in:

[GRANDMA] The cake is rich.

[FATHER] Yes. It is for rich people.

[COUSIN is slightly confused and we eat in some silence for a second or two]

[GRANDMA eyes narrowing] The cake is rich.

Wah wah wahhhhh…

[FATHER eyes also narrowing] Yes. It is for rich people.

Tscha!

[COUSIN’s eyes WIDE and we eat in some silence again. Except for my head]

Wah wah wahhhhh… wah wah wahhhhh… wah wah WAHHHHHH wah wah wah.

[GRANDMA staring] [FATHER staring] [COUSIN waiting in anticipation]

[GRANDMA firing fast] The cake is rich.

[FATHER countering] Yes. It is for rich people.

[COUSIN dies] BAH-BAHHHH.

I see my family now and for years later reflexively when someone says X is rich, well, then of course, it’s for rich people. I see Sadie on a playdate in the future.

[RANDO OTHER MOM] Hey kids! We got BROWNIES!

[Running kids into room with SADIE]

[RANDO OTHER MOM takes bite of BROWNIE] Oh. Man. These brownies are so RICH.

[Sadie reflexively] They are for rich people.

[Entire room staring]

[Sadie looks puzzled] Right?