Daily Archives: November 16, 2015

Christmas Cake 2015: one of them, at least

More November fiction for you

A Slice of Christmas Cake

She baked it back in October, when things were merely bad, rather than downright awful. It was something she looked forward to each year: a precursor of the festivities to come.

Each step in the process had its own ritual. First came the gathering of supplies: dried currants, mixed peel, glazed cherries. Next, the purchase of cranberry juice, and lemons. Fiona liked to put in the spices – cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, whatever they had to hand – along with the fruit and the juices to soak. She always used the same bowl: a blue ceramic pudding basin which had held a particularly pricey Christmas pud one year.

Autumnal feet

Next came baking day, when Fiona nearly broke a wooden spoon trying to stir the stiff batter. Still, it was worth it: not only for the finished product of two loaf-shaped cakes, but the gorgeous smell which filled the house – not to mention the slightly naughty pleasure of licking the spoon, and the bowl.

That year, the year things really fell apart, she had baked them, put each loaf in grease-proof paper and then wrapped them in foil. Once wrapped, she put both cakes safely away in a cupboard.

By mid-December, the cakes were forgotten, along with everything else that had previously had any importance in Fiona’s life. Her life – and thus Adrian’s – was in chaos, following a prolonged mental tailspin which resulted in her being signed off from work. Once home, she did as little as possible, only eating when Adrian insisted she eat; lying in bed, but not sleeping. When she wasn’t obsessing aloud about work, she would sit, silent as a pillow, on the settee.

Winter, 2014: Doncaster

Fiona’s confidence plummeted along with her mood. Rather than a season of good cheer, Christmas was an endurance test, one which she, and Adrian, barely passed. New Year’s Eve was equally miserable.

A few days into the new year, Adrian suddenly said, “Didn’t you say there was some Christmas cake?”

Fiona nodded. She had forgotten about the cakes, let alone telling Adrian about them. After some coaxing, she rooted about, and found one, then watched as he ate a slice of cake.

“Tastes good,” he said.

She tried a bit, though she wasn’t hungry. And it was good, surprisingly so. She had become convinced of her uselessness, that her failures were universal. Here, though, was proof otherwise: proof that she could do something right.

It was a start.

On a winter’s day: 2014.

“A Slice of Christmas Cake” was previously published in a Doncaster Mind Newsletter.

If you enjoyed this short story, please check out the “Storytime” section of this blog, and my short story collections, “What! No Pudding?” and “Koi Carpe Diem”. You can also come to Doncaster Brewery & Tap and hear myself and other writers read on Thurs 26th November from 19:30.

My throat is so sore today, I may as well have been gargling razor blades. Nothing that sexy, though. Just waking every hour on the hour (quite literally, the clock is now my mortal enemy) having an allergy induced coughing phlegm spewing fit. Miserable. Never had this until after the spawn and old age. If this is a sneak peek of things to come when I am really old, kill me now.

It’s cold and gray today. Well, the bank temp thingie says it’s 55 but it feels like 35. Maybe my temp gauge is off and I just perceive it as being cold when it’s not. I still haven’t taken my Halloween stuff down, cleaned the yard up from last week’s wind storm, or scooped out my car. The housework is just taunting me and I am flipping it off.

I was up til ten last night. Once spawn zonked, I just pacified myself with endless games of Word Poker. Spelling calms me, I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s the only thing I’ve ever truly been good at. I am spell check, for fuck’s sake, sans a few words that still get me fucked up. Spelling soothed me til just before ten so I went to fort vanilla bean with Chaos purring in my ear. Then came the falling to sleep (after a half hour of cyclone brain drove me to melatonin) only to jolt awake several times. I woke like ten minutes after finally drifting off. Then a half hour later. Lather, rinse, repeat. I saw every single hour on the clock all night. This is not a healthy sleep pattern, especially after a year of it. I got more solid sleep when my kid was a newborn, ffs.

It’s funny cos pre kid, pre mood stabilizers, during mania I was a whirlwind, chirping, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Post all that, I am desperate for eight solid hours of sleep, fuck all else. Except the problem isn’t my kid waking me up, it’s my scumbag brain refusing to stay asleep for more than two hours at a time. So yeah when the disability people want to know how my conditions impact daily living….THIS. You can’t run on empty 24-7 and be expected to be at your best, all the while juggling the misfiring of scumbag brain.

I am really not at all OCD. Except on occasion someone will say something that hits me wrong and then it will worm its way in and nag at me and make me mad or irked and I just want to slap them…Yesterday it was my brother. I wasn’t griping about money or asking dad and them for anything, I just pointed out the three hundred bucks to transfer the car to my name and get mom off my back isn’t gonna happen with Christmas and all coming. So my dickbag half brother says, “I know a job for you…You need to go ring bells for Salvation Army.”

(Because that never occurred to me during the two years of half ass stability when I applied and even they rejected me.)

I guess what made it so audacious is him nearing his 21rst birthday, still living with mom and dad, no job sans lawn mowing and fetching mail for a neighbor lady, and all he does it sit inside playing video games. Here’s a thought; YOU go ring the fucking bell, assclown. I can never ever get over the disparity in which my siblings and I are treated. Once I was done with school, I was told to get a job or get out. I had to pay for half of my first car. Sis and brother were given cars and allowed years of not working. It’s not a jealousy thing,it’s a play fair thing. Aside from having a way higher IQ than those two (thus everyone expecting way more from me) they are far less disadvantaged when it comes to the mental illness.  But they’re the youngest so…it all falls on me. I get nagged relentlessly like I’m still a child.

And ya know, if I were living off either parent, maybe they’d have cause. But I don’t rely on either faction so why is it their business if I work or whatever?

And dad went off on me for not signing Spook up for Toys For Tots. I tried to explain, they give one toy and then winter coats, gloves, etc. Well, Spook already has her winter gear thanks to kind benefactors, so it’d be akin to taking away from a child who really doesn’t have those things. Is it so wrong of me to want to take help only when I have to? Maybe I can’t get her a lot but what I do get her for Christmas is coming out of my budget. I don’t know why he can’t grasp that. Besides, we have all learned that no matter what we get Spook for Christmas my mom will outdo us and spend every cent on toys and then be bitching they have no food for two weeks. Same shit every Christmas since I was a kid. My mother will never grow up. I am done with the contest of who buys more loves my kid more, such bullshit.

But yeah, both parents on my case, why wouldn’t I loooove the fucking Hellidays. I snarked at dad yesterday, “You and mom both bitching at me every time you see me, it is a mystery why I’m not closer to my parents.”

Fuck him. And before anyone starts prattling about, “If I talked to my parents that way…” You gotta know my family, it’s how we communicate, right or wrong. He tells me to get off my lazy fucking ass and pick up my yard. I tell him to get off my ass cos he ain’t a diaper. We put the fun in dysfunctional. And I still wanna be an orphan.

No plans today. I should clean but it happens or it doesn’t whatevs. Spook really pushed me over the edge yesterday. I need to recharge for the next round. So I am gonna stay in my bedroom crypt and watch shows and rot my brain and chainsmoke while hoping my sore throat goes away soon cos it’s very uncomfortable.

Gotta stop sleep gargling razor blades.