Whipped Cream and Lava

Volcano eruptions are one of the most fascinating events in nature. Dangerous, for sure, but in their wake new life will flourish. This being said, they are not tied to any specific time of the year. So, it is wise to always be prepared and look for signs of an impending catastrophe.

While volcanoes don’t care about schedules, Corinna’s sole focus is the moving hands of the clock. Half stiff cream drips off the hook when she puts down the hand mixer. She sighs. There are specks of white on the red apron, covering her light-colored sundress. She rubs her arms. Obviously, early May can still be quite cool, and warmer clothing would have been more advisable. Still, it is important to celebrate annual occasions with the appropriate mindset.

For a moment Corinna stands there with a frown on her face.

“What was I …?”

Forgotten why she stopped the preparations, she places the hooks in the bowl again and flips the switch.

“Mama! What should I do now?”

And just like this, the noise of metal banging against plastic fades again. The frown returns as Corinna makes her way out into the living room. The table is set. Tulips make colorful accents in a sea of white sparkling china and an even whiter tablecloth. Any more shine and the setting can compete with the stars.

Like this, everything is ready for the celebration. Returning once a year, Corinna wants it to pass as fast as possible.

Lukas is dancing around the table. With every move, his hair wins a partial fight against the hairspray. The dress shirt has slipped out of the dark jeans. There was no way he would ever wear the dress pants. Somehow it is always mothers who fight so fiercely to uphold any resemblance of perfection, which is nothing but a mirage.

“Lukas! Could you please stop!”

There are a few more hops. Corinna rushes over. She pulls down the shirt, while Lukas pulls a face. His eyes wander outside. Sunlight is reflected in the puddles. Somehow bodies of water sing sirens’ songs which only children can hear. Corinna turns her son’s face in her direction, looking him straight into his eyes.

“You could …”

With a grave voice, she looks around. She blinks and must have realized that everything was set up perfectly. Just as usual. She twitches at the tablecloth, as if it was her second child. But there is no way that a second child would behave so obediently while the other is running around like a headless chicken.

“Where is your father?”

“Papa? I don’t know. Haven’t seen him.”

With effort, Corinna manages to control her facial expression.

“Ah, are you done with the preparations?”

Corinna turns around. Clenching her jaws, she stares at her husband. One might almost think they are part of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. And Corinna definitely has expectations.

“Take Lukas. Get changed.”

Phil rolls his eyes and waves the boy over. A giggle erupts, after whispers are exchanged. Now Corinna’s fingernails leave small halfmoons in her palms.

“Please. Just … they should be here soon.”

“It’s so lovely. I finally see the china again, right Olaf?”

With a bright smile, Phil’s mother Berta taps with her finger against the white teacup. Some coffee spills into the saucer. That’s what Berta does to convey a message. She thinks it’s subtle, but it makes Corinna’s blood boil. That’s why the daughter-in-law only nods politely, while there is a faint red hue visible around her neck. Fierce and dangerous.

“If you want to see the china, we should just visit more often.”

The gruff comment comes from Olaf. He has already dissected the cake. There are three heaps on his plate. They are separated perfectly: cream, fruits and sponge. So close to retirement, he might want to prove that he still hasn’t lost his edge. Or maybe he just likes to play with his food. Corinna pretends not to notice, while she pours her in-laws another round of coffee. The redness hasn’t subsided but also hasn’t spread.

“That’s not what I meant. You said yourself that the drive is tiring. Corinna, don’t take it to heart. We would love to see you and our little angel more often.”

Phil and Lukas look up at the same time. It’s so synchronized that you might think they have practiced it. Berta always addresses them that way. But usually, they aren’t in the same room. The (grand)mother blinks confused and then realizes her mistake. In contrast to her daughter-in-law, some of her color drains.

“I mean, my big and my small little angel. Maybe if it would be …”

“Grams, I do look like an angel, right?”

Lukas hair has completely won the fight against the hairspray. The spikes of a hedgehog fight the angelic image his grandmother just painted.

“More like a little devil.”

It is Olaf again, the sharp observer. The older man has by now finished the sponge. Only the fruits and cream remain.

Suppressing a burp, he looks at his grandson: “You wanna go outside?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Definitely not!”

“Can I come too?”

Corinna shoots her husband an icy glare. It has the same quality as Berta’s towards her husband. Both men shrink and mumble something unintelligible. A mirror image with the difference of thirty years.

“Sorry, dear. It’s just … you know that this might be a bit ... you know … for Lukas.”

The father nods, while the son defends.

“It’s once a year. Only once.”

The retort is almost a whisper, but it still cuts through the living room as if on a loudspeaker. Her cheeks are hurting from the constant smiling. There is a familiar throbbing behind her temples, which always appear when her mother-in-law comes to visit. Corinna’s color has risen to her jaw now.

“Yes, dear. Sorry, mum.”

“Don’t mention it. And Corinna, I really appreciate what you do every year. Especially, with your own mother being …”

The flinch is even noticeable for Lukas who looks confused from one adult to another. The big puddles in the garden are still calling his name. Instead, he is forced to stay inside with adults playing the game of ‘Who did it?’

“Yes, well. I … hope the cake is delicious at least.”

Changing the topic was the only thing which Corinna had been taught as a child. And that a woman had to be perfect if she didn’t want to be abandoned.

“Yes, very.”

“So, yummy mama!”

“One of the best cakes you ever made.”

“Could’ve used less fruit.”

Berta elbows her husband in the side, but he is too busy finishing up his plate to even wince. He wants to visit his son more often. To exchange tips and laugh about Berta’s ridiculous behavior. But his wife had this irrational aversity towards her daughter-in-law. He knows the second part of the proverb ‘Opposites attract.’

“So, dear, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

Corinna’s head snaps that you can almost hear her vertebras crack. Phil grabs her hand. This is his way of showing support, which his wife usually appreciates. But on this day. In this situation. It is the wrong move.

“Don’t!”

With a hiss, she bangs against the table. Coffee sloshes over rims and leave brown spots on the tablecloth. But red cheeks are drawing the attention.

Though, Berta is too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice. This was something she had been taught when she was a child. Focus on yourself and your presentation, then people will listen to what you have to say.

“So, Olaf and I have been wondering. Now, that Lukas is almost in elementary school. It would be time, wouldn’t it?”

“Mom…”

“Berta…”

The older woman’s focus is only her daughter-in-law. With her perfect cake. The perfect hairdo and make-up. Of course, Berta’s own perfect son as her husband.

For a moment, Berta hesitates. Not because of her family’s interjection, but because she remembers the occasion why they have come together. Then her eyes fall on the brown spots on the tablecloth. The smile on her lips widens. The crack in the perfect facade is just enough to make her usual pushiness to take the reins.

“You’re still young. And so is Phil. And … wouldn’t it be lovely to have another set of tiny feet pattering around in this house my son worked so hard for? Imagine, a lovely girl. Another angel to this family. Then you could also leave behind your … what did you call it again …”

She stops for a moment, really looking for the word. It takes her a few seconds to sort her thoughts.

“Shut your mouth!”

The volcano erupts. Just like Mount Baker in 1975.

“I slave away. For you. And you. Ooooh, and you! Every day. Every year. And you dare to bring up my mother. Are you for fucking real?!”

There is a pause, but it is not over yet.

“Leave this house! If you look down on me, get the fuck OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Phil stares at his wife. He has never heard a swear word leave her mouth. Although she does swear, but she makes sure that there are no witnesses. Olaf’s face turns red then white and red again. He looks like a blinking peppermint candy. While Berta’s smirk disappears quite quickly with the onslaught of Corinna’s words. She wanted to crack her daughter-in-law but wasn’t ready to see what was behind the façade.

Just like a perfect evacuation drill, Phil ushers his parents out of the danger zone.

In the end, shockwaves of the eruption will subside. Lava will cool down and harden.

Just like this, there is only Corinna. Her chest is heavily moving up and down. She looks at the half-eaten cake and the cream melting slowly in the afternoon sun. Her tablecloth looks now like a dalmatian. The heat in her cheeks has vanished. She turns toward the open door. The corridor is dark and empty.

Then there is a tug on her skirt.

There is another life. A tiny hedgehog has survived the natural disaster. A wet face buries itself in a less than perfect skirt.

“Happy Mother’s Day!”