Ms. Alice’s Birthday Cake

She didn’t want to remember anymore.

Lourdes’s finger brushed the bottles in the large cabinet, considering. White vials perfectly arranged in long rows, like tombstones on the shelf. She only came back for this, for relief.

       She snapped around at a sound outside the medical closet. She had to move.

Her fingers examined her front pocket, pulling out a ring of keys, and a rainbow sticker.

The colorful image shot a lightning bolt through her heart. A forgotten gift for her daughter who loved rainbows. ‘Today’s tears are tomorrow’s rainbows.’ That was what she told her, but it didn’t happen. Lourdes didn’t believe in rainbows anymore.  

She kept the sticker, one more reminder she didn’t need. In a blur, her dark, small hands emptied the bottle of oxycodone into her now empty pocket. She had turned into a thief. But her world was collapsing, what else could she do?

“Tonight. She whispered to herself. Tonight she will stop the memories.

“Lourdes! “

She closed the cabinet, locked it, then turned into her boss’s office.

Pale, manicured fingers lifted the fake rose plant to find the hidden keys.

Lourdes lifted the fake rose plant on Head Nurse Tricia’s desk and put the keys back. She had picked that image up when she first started.

Nurse Tricia found Lourdes at her station at the Care Manager’s desk. Tall and lean, her wooden-soled clogs thumped disapproval. “Where were you? I heard you’re back from leave, but I couldn’t find you.”

“What do you need?” Lourdes didn’t look up. Her body, an overstuffed trash bag of heartache, could only sink deeper in the chair. She could give up right there, swallow the pills and never remember again.

Nurse Tricia shook her head, and fluttered her fingers in the air, the brightly colored sparkling blue nails glittered around her.

Nurse Lani complaining, pointing to a dark stain on her scrubs. The long hallway full of trays to be delivered and not enough staff to do it.

 The image flashed in her mind, and then Lourdes pushed it away.

“Oh it’s Ms. Alice again! She’s agitated and won’t eat, won’t take her meds. She’s gotten worse since you were gone, no one else can even get in her room if she’s awake! You were always so good with her. Can you help?” Nurse Tricia tilted her head. “I don’t understand how you always know how to handle her. You have the touch, a true Whisperer.” She pulled out her phone. “Whisperer’s are rare, you know. I’ve known a few, and we’re lucky to have you back.”  

Lourdes pushed back her chair with all the effort she had left, stood up. Not quite 5’ tall, her light blue smock bagged off her and she pushed it straight against her hips. Many of the nurses complained about the scrubs, the thick material and bland colors. Lourdes liked the uniform, she had enough trouble with interfering thoughts, she didn’t want to think about what to wear. Was today her last day wearing one?

“Are you OK, Lourdes? You look tired. Whatever happened with your daughter, and the cancer diagnosis?”

Lourdes folded her arms around herself. She didn’t know how to say the words to this woman who always had everything together. “She, my daughter, they couldn’t-“

“- I have to take this!” Nurse Tricia pointed to her ringing phone. “We should have a one-on one, but not this month! It’s so busy! Please go see about Ms. Alice, thanks.” She turned her shoulder away.

 Lourdes kept her eyes down and gave a quick head nod before stepping down the hall.

Nurse Lani, scrolling on her phone, held up the wall outside a patient door. She straightened up with a huff. “Thank god! You deal with her! She threw her dinner at me!”

Lourdes caught the images from Lani like mini videos.

 The small, old woman in a gown threw the juice box like a baseball at Lani, spraying her.  

An older woman, a spitting image of Lani but with longer hair threw a slipper at her, then a beer bottle, her mouth wide and red, cursing.

“…something just triggers me when the residents act up like that.” Lani shrugged. “She needs get moved to the memory care ward.”

Lourdes nodded. “I can help her today. If I’m not here, promise her something, like a treat. And only water. No juice.”

Lourdes re-oriented the cart and stepped through into Ms. Alice’s room. It smelled like she entered a rotten egg, the yolk yellow walls, the cracks dully illuminated by a white curtained window, and thick miasma of a full bedpan, yeast and ammonia.

Ms. Alice had come to Sunrise Living a decade ago, and now almost 90 years old, she terrorized the nurses with her wild emotional swings and bitter rages. Calm now, she was no more than a bump under the covers on the small bed.

At Lourdes’s entrance, wide, red-rimmed watery eyes popped open, her mouth already twisting into a yell. Ms. Angel’s sharp anger poked out, needles flared to protect herself from a world she no longer understood. Lourdes knew her bristles were more like velcro, and if she pushed in, she could get close to her.  

Lourdes saw how she appeared to Alice, the image moving into the room.

A huge, stern woman in a nun’s habit walked toward her with a ruler in her hand. “You’ve been naughty Alice! You will be punished!”

“I didn’t do it!” Alice rasped from the bed. “I didn’t take the apple, I didn’t even climb the tree-”

“It’s OK Ms. Alice. I’m not your teacher, I’m not here to punish you. I’m here to bring you dinner and get you cleaned up. If you eat everything, afterwards you can listen to the Gunsmoke radio show.”

Alice glowered from her bed, but minutes later she was up in new clean clothes and eating. Skin as thin as tissue paper, mottled in purple barely covered her frail bones. 

 Lourdes helped feed her. The intensely personal act of feeding someone gave her a connection to these residents. For a moment Lourdes forgot her own memories, and the pain.

“It flies like- ” Alice said, and Lourdes swooped a food laden spoon to land on the red runway of her tongue.

A soaring rocket ship spoon filled with oatmeal flies up high and drops down into a little boy’s smile in a sunlit kitchen. He waves wild arms in a wooden highchair, wearing a red bib with a rocket blasting off. Laughter echoes through the room.

“It flies like a rocket ship. Just like Robert, flying down from the moon.” Lourdes said. A memory of her own popped up, bright and cheerful. Feeding another mouth once, her daughter, with a tiny pink spoon. That image crawled up her back with icy fingers, and gripped her by the throat, threatening to drag her down into that deep, dark lake. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the nausea to pass, for the darkness to give up its tight squeeze.

“How did you know?” Ms. Alice asked. The food had brought her back to the present, for the moment anyway. A glitter of sharp intelligence behind her eyes examined Lourdes. “Did I tell you about Robert, and how he loved rocket ships?”

Lourdes put down the spoon. She could finally tell someone. Ms. Alice would forget it all soon enough.

““Your little Robert loved rockets. He was your Grandson, right? And you took care of him. That must have been a special time. I can see images, only when I’m alone with a person.” Lourdes said. “Pictures from your mind. Most of the time it’s like flipping through channels on TV. I used to think everyone could do it, but I know now I’m different. I’ve always had this. Ever since my daughter got sick, and now she passed.

My own memories keep coming back of her. I miss her, the images hurt too much, I can’t live like this anymore. “

A church full of people dressed in black, a small coffin covered in flowers in front of the altar. Packing up small toys, rocket ships and planes into a cardboard box in an empty kids room. The highchair, empty in a corner of the kitchen.

Lourdes took in a sharp breath. “Robert passed!” Lourdes curled her hand over Alice’s. ‘I’m so sorry. You understand, you understand how I feel.” Lourdes turned to the yellow wall. “With my memories I have no one left to share them with.”

“Don’t lose hold of them!” Alice cracked a wrinkled and toothless smile. The memories are all that’s left of my family, and little Robert.”

Lourdes dropped the spoon in her hand. She bent down to pick it up, and when she sat back up, the spark in Ms. Alice’s eyes had left, only a dull haze remained.

 “This chocolate cake is terrible!” Alice’s attention had turned to the tray, and thin wiry fingers dipped into the chocolate pudding, smearing it on her mouth. 

Lourdes looked at the cup of chocolate pudding. “No, I’m sure it's not. Do you like chocolate cake?” Lourdes asked.

“It’s my birthday, see!” 

Alice gestured to the wall behind Lourdes. She turned to see the colorful ‘Happy Birthday!’ poster. It had been pinned up some time ago, slightly tilted with one drooping corner. No other resident had needed it since.

“I want my special cake. I want it!”

Alice threw the pudding against the poster, splattering off the wall.

Hands in a mixing bowl, her own tiny hand pouring sugar from a measuring cup.

Then in a different kitchen Alice watched a young girl in a too-big apron pour a scoop of flour half in the bowl, half on the counter. 

Then the cake itself, glistening shiny chocolate displayed on a glass platter. A small boy’s intense focus as he curled a finger full of frosting, then plopped it into puffy cheeks.

“Today’s your birthday? The kitchen will get you a cake, with a candle. I’ll make sure it’s a chocolate-“

“-No! It’s never right, it’s not right!”

Alice sat at the table in the Day room, a slice of chocolate cake in front of her. It tasted wrong. She hurled the cake at a red-eyed and orange-skinned demon with blue manicured nails dressed in a nurse’s scrubs.  

“The kitchen doesn’t make it like you remember. What is the spice, what is the special ingredient?” Lourdes asked. “What extra flavor did your mom put in?”

Alice stared down at chocolate pudding smeared on her fingers.

 Old wrinkled hands held a recipe card, the words unintelligible. Flour, sugar, eggs and butter were collected on the counter. The kitchen felt warm, comfortable and full of love. An arm reached in the back of the cupboard for… instant coffee, and then a small spice jar. The hands opened it , and smelled... cardamon…

“Ahh.” Lourdes said. She carefully wiped the pudding off Alice’s hands. You’re the only family I have left. You and the other residents.” She folded the napkin to wipe her own tears. I’ll make you this special cake for your birthday. One last day. Then I can leave all these memories behind.”

“Go to bed, Ms. Alice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That night Lourdes worked in her own, cold kitchen making the birthday cake. She had to buy most of the ingredients. Eating didn’t seem important anymore, and almost nothing was left in her own cupboards.

Images of baking with her daughter flooded the kitchen like ocean waves. The stool her daughter used to step on to get to counter height, her tiny apron, and her special baking spoons.

Lourdes struggled to keep her head above the current of memories trying to drown her. She concentrated on Ms. Alice and making this cake perfect for her. If she could get the flavors just right, everything would be OK, at least for a little bit.

Lourdes poured her heart into the cake, her own memories stirred in with each pass of the wooden spoon. Finally complete, the glistening frosted cake fit tight inside an old hat box.

Lourdes slept dreamlessly for the first time in months. 

The next morning, she carried the cake easily, as if helium balloons were tied to the box.

“Cake!” Nurse Lani clapped. “I love cake, what’s the occasion?”

“For Ms. Alice, her 90th birthday. I missed it a few weeks back she taught me a special recipe. Her favorite chocolate cake.

“Oh.” Nurse Lani’s face fell.

A gurney rolled out of Alice’s room, the sheet covering her face. The cleaners watched it move down the hall and then pushed a mop and cleaning cart through the doorway to turn the room. The Happy Birthday! Poster curled on the floor.

   Lourdes arms gave up the effort. The cake, heavy and awkward, fell from her hands with a thump onto the counter of the Nurses station. Nurse Lani dove to rescue it from falling further.

Her legs failed next, and Lourdes collapsed. All the tears she had been holding escaped as she fell into a chair. She couldn’t take the memories of her daughter and couldn't take the reality of her being gone.

“I didn't know you cared that much for her?” Nurse Tricia said. “Ms. Alice was old, and in a lot of pain. She’s in a better place now.”

“First my daughter, and now Ms. Alice!” Lourdes wailed, her hands on her face. Everyone is dying, and I can’t take it! ”

“What! Your daughter passed away? You never told us!” Nurse Lani bent down. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

Nurse Lani gathered the other Care Managers, Nurses and staff to circle around Lourdes, then squeezed in next to her, hip to hip on the office chair.

“You carry so much, you need to share the pain.” Lani’s arm pulled Lourdes in close. You seem to know what everyone’s thinking, I don’t know how. But you need to let us know what’s happening with you.”

The other nurses joined Lani at the Station. They all reached out, hands touching Lourdes, low murmurs of sympathy bubbling around her like fizzy water.

A cascade of images overwhelmed her. Small children, boys and girls playing in the grass, running in a house, peeking out from under a pillow fort, dancing in a pink dress, a boy asleep chest rising and falling. Warmth, comfort and love.

Lourdes examined the women around her full of memories of their loved ones. They were crying for her, sharing her pain. Memories of Robert kept Ms. Alice alive. He had lived in the taste of the cake, and in the rocket ship spoon. Maria could live somewhere too, in rainbows and in her kitchen.

Lourdes sniffled into a tissue paper. She had lost her daughter, but the memories she was trying to run away from are what she has to embrace. 

Lourdes’s hand moved to her pocket and fingered the pills. A pocketful of silence tempted her with peace. There was something else in her pocket, the rainbow sticker. 

A thought shocked her. Who would remember her daughter if she wasn’t here?  

“I’ll cut the cake. Nurse Tricia said. Blue fingernails pressed against the counter. “A slice for Ms. Alice. And, what’s your daughter’s name?”

“Maria. Her name was Maria.” Lourdes would let other people remember with her.

As the cake was cut, she dumped the pills into the trash.

Lani watched her, squeezing her shoulder and then tucking her head in close.

 Only one thing was left in her pocket. She pressed the rainbow sticker on the cake box and let herself remember. 

Today’s tears are tomorrow’s rainbows.