Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Illustrate the meaning of "It's No Use Crying over Spilt Milk" (without using the actual phrase or literal exampl (02/07/08)
TITLE: The Baby Shower Cake
By Seema Bagai
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I turned into the parking lot in front of Vincenza’s Bakery. Thankfully, there was an open space right in front of the store. I sloshed through the rain and pulled the door open. The warm scent of baking bread drifted in the air. I pulled back the hood of my raincoat.
“Hello, Angelo. I’m here to pick up the cake for the baby shower,” I called out.
Angelo appeared from the back of the bakery. “Annalisa, how are you?”
“Fine, thank you. Just busy getting everything ready for the baby shower. Is the cake ready?”
“Yes. I go get for you.”
The baker disappeared and returned carrying a large white box which he placed on the counter. He lifted the lid to reveal his creation. I leaned forward to peer inside. The cake was pink!
My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. “Angelo, this isn’t the cake I ordered.”
“It is. You order chocolate cake for baby girl shower.”
“No. I clearly remember ordering a cake for a baby boy. Stork. Light blue icing. Welcome baby. Don’t you remember? I came last Saturday and placed the order.
“This cake is pink. What am I supposed to do with a pink cake?” I pressed my fingers against my forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache.
“But, I’ve already bought all the decorations, the plates, napkins and favors. Everything is blue. Now the cake won’t match.” I glanced at my watch.
Less than an hour until the guests arrive. Not enough time to fix the cake.
Angelo shrugged. “Blue. Pink. Cake taste same.” He covered the box and taped the lid closed.
I sighed. “I guess you’re right. The cake is pretty and I know it will taste delicious.”
“Take cake home and enjoy. Pay and I carry box to car for you.” He handed me the receipt.
I paid for the cake and Angelo followed me out to the car. He placed the box on the front passenger seat.
“Thank you, Angelo. I’m sorry for making a fuss about the cake. It’s just that everyone is hoping Clarissa’s baby will be a boy so I bought everything in blue.
“How you know baby will be boy? Only God know that. Maybe Clarissa have girl. Be happy and have good time.”
Angelo’s question kept repeating itself in my mind as I drove. By the time I reached home, I resigned myself to having a mismatched cake.
He’s right. I have no clue whether the baby is a boy or girl. Better to have a pink cake than no cake at all, I guess.
Everybody enjoyed the shower. Before cutting the cake, I explained about the mix up at the bakery. Nobody cared that the cake was pink. They savored every morsel of it.
Two months later, the phone rang during dinner. I rushed to answer it. It was Joseph, Clarissa’s husband.
“Clarissa had the baby this afternoon. It’s a girl. Donatella Maria.”
After offering my congratulations, I hung up and chuckled.
God doesn’t make mistakes. Apparently, neither does Angelo.
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