Free This Cake is for the Party by Sarah Selecky Page B

well past dark and still no Evelyn and Stephen.
    I’m a little concerned, I said.
    You know Evelyn, said Nina.
    Have you two spent much time with this Stephen guy? I asked.
    Brooks had used his knife to make a grid on the top of his lasagna, and he was cutting out square pieces, eating them one at a time. The shape of his lasagna on the plate was not unlike an oversized Tetris piece.
    Brooks has, said Nina.
    Brooks looked up, eyebrows raised. I’ve played squash with him, he said.
    Wait—you work together, right? I asked. I couldn’t remember how Evelyn had met Stephen. I thought that she’d worked with him, but then it came back to me— Brooks had set them up together.
    We work on the same floor, Brooks said. We don’t actually work on the same team.
    Stephen’s in legal services, whispered Nina.
    Is he actually a lawyer? I asked.
    Whatever, said Nina. He’s loaded.
    Is she happy with him?
    Nina shrugged and pierced a grey wedge with the tines of her fork. I really like the mushrooms in here, she said. Is this shiitake?
    Sometimes a portobello mushroom can taste just like a juicy steak, Brooks said.
    Brooks proposed to Nina last November, on a weekend trip to Montreal. When they were settled in the hotel, a four-storey stone building in the old part of town, Nina asked him, Do you think we’ll get married soon? Brooks brushed her off, so as not to ruin the surprise. Nah, he said, why rush it? Meanwhile, he had the ring in his pocket. Nina was so upset by his nonchalance, she locked herself in the bathroom, weeping. Brooks finally proposed to her on the other side of the bathroom door. She opened the door and saw him on one knee. He said, I didn’t want to do it this way, but you’re just so miserable.
    Hey Brooks, I said. Do you know any other rich single men at your office?
    Ha! Brooks laughed and nodded, like I’d made a great joke.
    I’m serious, I said. Is there anyone?
    There was a pause. Nina wrinkled her nose and tilted her head towards me. Lilian, she said, I don’t think any of the guys in Brooks’s office are really your type.
    Why not? I asked.
    Oh, you know, Nina said. You need someone who’s more . . . She opened her hand in front of her as though making an offering. Conscious, she finished.
    You found someone great, and he works in that office, I said to her.
    Yes, but we’re different, said Nina.
    Who, you and Brooks?
    You and me, she said.
    I tried a bite of my lasagna. It wasn’t too bad.
    I’m exhausted, Nina said. She rested her fork on her plate, tines down. I might have to go to bed right after dinner. Lilian, do you have earplugs?
    Not here, I said. Do you want to hear a little bit about Go-Manchura first?
    Oh, I think it’s too late tonight, she said. Maybe in the morning, we can have a little sit-down about it then? Do you mind?
    The lasagna was very good, said Brooks. He’d finished his grid of a meal and folded his napkin in a tidy rectangle beside the plate.
    I would love to tell you more about the health benefits, I said.
    Nina nodded. If you crunch up toilet paper and lick it a little, she said, the paper will mould to the inside of your ear canal.
    There are a few ways to sell the products: through friends, through strangers, and through turning strangers into friends. The Go-Manchura DVD promised that the easiest way to the path of health, wealth, happiness and success was by helping your friends first.
    A slight tang pinched the air as I cleaned up after dinner: the vinegar from the salad, the leftover Chardonnay in the bottom of my guests’ glasses. I hesitated before I drank their extra puddles of wine. I know it was a little unsanitary, but it wasn’t like they were there to see it. They were upstairs having sex in the master bedroom. It was very loud: Nina called out like an exotic night bird from the Amazon.
    I was dozing on the couch, the stumpy black bits in the wood stove still glowing