Skipping ahead to prompt 13 on the list, ‘What is the opposite of cake’ as I thought this is probably one of the most random ones and I need to be creative here. (Also, it’s Bake Off night, which I will now be watching on catch-up!). I delivered an enjoyable flash fiction workshop this afternoon at Erskine Writers and the fact this post has turned into a flash fiction piece shows how much I enjoy the form.

When I was thinking about the opposite of cake, my immediate thought was salad. I decided to ask the internet what it thought, and it took me to Thesarus.plus which gave me this list of ‘Cake Atonyms’ (Atonym is defined as: a word opposite in meaning to another)

 bear · beast · chore · headache · horror show · killer · labour · murder. pain.

All quite dramatic, and I guess thesarus is thinking of cake in terms of phrases such as ‘piece of cake’ and ‘have your cake and eat it’. Anyway, here’s what these words sparked off in my brain:

The Opposite of Cake

I was promised cake at this party. I half-starved myself on salad and crackers earlier today and all I can see are canapes the size of my pinkie getting distributed around the room. One of the waiters who is serving reminds me of a bear – he’s about six foot tall, massive shoulders, fuzzy beard. He catches me staring and thrusts a tray of mini pastry-somethings under my nose and I take three and stuff them in my mouth all at once, just as Jeremy turns his head and catches my eye, and nudges his new fiancé to turn around too. So now they’re both smiling and walking towards me and I’m trying to desperately deflate my hamster cheeks so I can smile back and look like I’m having a GREAT TIME.

“Frances, so lovely to see you.” Saffron shakes my hand, but it’s more of a grab my fingers and cling kind of gesture and I find myself squeezing her thumb awkwardly and I’m already eyeing the free bar fantasising about the headache it’s going to give me. Saffron runs a manicured hand down my jacket sleeve, eyeing the pattern curiously. “Gosh, this feels divine. Is it a Westwood?” Jeremy is adjusting his bow tie beside her, his smile straining and I know he wants me to lie.

“No, it’s a Tumu,” I reply, enjoying the confusion on both of their faces.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” she says.

“Really, they’re quite awful. Fans of child labour, and often pilfer your credit card details. But I’m a sucker for pretty patterns, what can I say.”

Jeremy looks like he wants to murder me and Saffron pauses, considering if I’m being serious, then decides I can’t possibly be and hee- haw laughs me over to meet her friends, who are all wearing badges with the new company logo. I realise with a startle that must have been what the boy at the door was trying to give me, and he wasn’t actually slipping me a tip to take his coat.

I try to join in with the small talk but I prefer big talk so I wander off to the bar and then peruse the tables of tiny sandwiches and sushi. Still no cake.

Jeremy clambers up to the make-shift stage with Saffron by his side and they give me a name-check, to thank me for my initial involvement in the ideas stage of the app, when I was Jeremy’s fiancé and Saffron was the face of the health and well-being marketing strategy, after investing a heavy amount of her family money into the start-up.

The start-up has now taken off. Jeremy also took off. And really it was for the best because he looks at home here, whereas I’d rather actually be at home, doing the chores even, anything to take me away from this pompous horror show of well-groomed ‘rising stars’ I don’t want to talk to.

Five drinks down I corner Jeremy and he looks scared, like I’m some crazed killer.

“Relax,” I hold up a hand, realising he thinks I’m upset about them and the company when he should know their pay-off was enough to sweeten any lingering pain. “I was just wondering where is the cake? You promised me cake.”

Jeremy lets out a shrill laugh, his body deflating with relief. “Did I? Oh, sorry. Saffron is gluten and sugar-free so we decided to spend the cake money on the badges instead. Aren’t they cute?” He’s pinned his in the middle of his bow tie and now I feel like grabbing the badge and murdering him with it.

He pats me on the shoulder then walks off and that’s it, the party is over. I look up to see the waiter from earlier beckoning me towards the kitchen.

I flash him a confused smile, curiosity making me follow. He is standing by an open fridge, and inside is the most magnificent chocolate cake, with a mutilated couple dancing on top.

“It’s supposed to be Beauty and the Beast, but that part didn’t quite work out.” He makes a face. “I run a cake decorating class here on Tuesday nights. I heard you talking about the lack of cake…”

And then we’re sitting sampling the sweetness and he makes me laugh, and I think how Jeremy and Saffron and this whole night has been the opposite of cake, right up until this moment. The waiter cuts me another slice and I bask in the sugar high.