It’s Mom’s forty-fourth birthday. Dad suggests we have a BBQ lunch. Mom invites Devi, who is vegetarian, so Dad gets some veggie burgers. She asks Mrs. G. and Nav, but Mrs. G. isn’t up to it—she’s finding the hot weather hard to cope with. Nav can’t come, either—says he’s busy. Dad is taking the kitchen chairs and folding table out into a shady spot in the back yard.
Ellie texts me while I’m sitting in the kitchen. I’ve told her about seeing the girl. She wants to know what I’m going to do. I text back: I’m not sure.
Dad picks up another chair from the kitchen, and we follow him outside. “Nothing from that godforsaken son?” he says to Mom. “He couldn’t even be bothered to send his mother a card. That’s what he thinks of us. You are deluded, Anya, if you think he cares an ounce.”
Mom shrugs. I know she’s disappointed not to hear from Marek. I’m surprised he hasn’t even sent a text or a WhatsApp message.
Devi arrives, which is a relief as Dad stops going on about Marek and instead starts talking to Devi about her online business. She sells bags and accessories online and is making a small but decent living doing it.
My phone buzzes. Maybe you should call the police, Ellie’s texted.
I don’t know, I reply. She was so definite that I shouldn’t involve them. I want her to trust me. She’s free to go out, so it’s not like she’s a prisoner.
I think she wanted to talk, just not there—not so close to the house, I text next. Are you free later? Let’s go to the park again. Maybe she’ll come.
“Put your phone away, Kasia!” Dad demands. “It’s very rude.”
“Sorry.” I put my phone on the table. It vibrates immediately, but Dad is still watching, so I don’t pick it up.
“I’ve been telling Anya she should do the same with her cakes,” Devi says, still talking about her business. “She is a superb baker, as we all know.”
She points to the birthday cake—a lemon sponge with cream that Mom has made.
“You could, Mom!” I tell her. “You could totally run a cake business!”
“It’s in her family,” Dad comments. “But I’m not sure Anya would know where to start. How do you sell cakes online? You can’t just put them in the mail!”
“You’d have to market yourself on local websites, and that kind of thing,” Devi explains to Mom. “Then there’d be a lot of word of mouth. I’ll help you if you’re interested?”
“It would be a dream to do that,” Mom says, nodding. “To spend my days baking and have people paying for my cakes! And if I can work here, I can care for Kasia, too. But I can’t see it as a reality.”
“You should try, Mom,” I say. “What have you got to lose?”
“I’ll think about it,” Mom agrees. She reaches for a knife to cut the cake.
“Wait!” Devi exclaims. “Where are the birthday candles? We have to sing, and you must make a wish as you cut.”
“I’m too old for all that,” Mom protests.
“No, you’re not,” I tell her.
I’m not sure if we have any birthday candles, but I go inside, search the drawer and find one. Then I have another hunt for some matches.
Dad is getting impatient.
“Can’t we just eat the damn cake!” he calls.
“Patience, patience,” Devi teases.
At last the candle is lit and we all sing, Dad imitating an opera singer and making us all laugh.
“A triumph,” he declares, as he tastes the cake.