A Good Devil's Food Cake

“Look, Mariah--” I stuttered, then stopped.

“What?” Her lips smacked open and shut, revealing a radioactive green lump of chewing gum.

“Nothing. I… I’ll tell you later,” I sucked in a deep breath as the air clawed its way into my lungs. I turned back to my outdated, discolored monitor and resumed typing a financial report.

Across the room, I could hear Glen arguing with the manager about something petty -- most likely the type of cake that would be unceremoniously served at the next office party. 

“For the last time, we deserve a good devil’s food cake!” Glen said. 

I could barely discern the small drops of spittle that spewed from his mouth towards whoever was unfortunate enough to have entered the splash zone.

“And if you want to pay five dollars a head,” our manager, Brandi, took a step back, “that’s a good 250 dollars, by the way,” she shoved a clipboard in Glen’s face, “go right ahead.”

“We’re a corporation. You’re telling me that we don’t have 250 dollars squirreled away someplace?” Glen squinted at the clipboard incredulously.

“Yes, I’m telling you that,” Brandi teetered down the hall, her red pumps making a distinct tapping noise that most of us learned to identify from a mile away.

Glen yelled a few expletives, releasing more spit while doing so, and sat in his premium-deluxe-relax-o-matic -- a fancy name for an overpriced spinny office chair.

I directed my attention once again to the task at hand, and decided that I was finished. Not at all satisfied, but finished. 

I pressed a final key, its satisfying clacking noise signaling that the end of my workday was near. As I stood up, my back made a strained cracking noise, as though it was attempting desperately to disguise the length of its time on this earth. Annoyingly, it made that fact very clear to me, evident by the excessive lumbar pain I experience on a daily basis.

I pushed my normal, not premium or deluxe, desk chair in and looked over to the printer, which, had it not been such a delinquent, should have already created a physical copy of my report.

“Ashara!” I called.

A muffled sound of affirmation came from somewhere far away, and I could see Ashara’s head pop out of a nearby janitor’s closet. She hurried over, not bothering to affix the laces on her left shoe or straighten her bangs.

“Not working again? He’s an old bastard, he is,” Ashara muttered, slapping the printer a few times.

I occasionally wonder why we all decided that Ashara was the technical expert. She rarely appears to be any more proficient than the rest of us. Maybe I just don’t see it.

“Ah, there we go,” She exclaimed, satisfied.

Indeed, sheets of paper had begun to spew out the printer, much like saliva out of Glen’s lips. I now had three extra, unwanted copies of my report. Ah, the wonders of the modern era.

----

“Party day, aren’t you excited?” Mariah stretched out the word “excited” like a piece of the gum she always chewed.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, my statement bordering on being a question.

“Only half an hour of work, then we get to drink a bunch of booze and yell about how Ashara’s turning thirty,” Mariah laughed.

“Yep,” I continued to be unenthusiastic, “too bad we didn’t get that cake that Glen wanted. You know he’ll be droning on about that for hours.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist!” Mariah spun around in her chair to look at me, and I did the same.

“I’m not. I’m being a realist.”

“Maybe we will get that cake after all,” Mariah winked at me, a gesture I couldn’t possibly comprehend the meaning to. There’s no way Brandi or anyone else would approve something that costly. We’re a big department.

I turned to the many sheets of paper in front of me and began typing yet another report. 

The next hour was a quiet one, occasionally punctuated by Denise’s insistence on using a typewriter to compose her formal letters. As the day came to a close, an effervescence filled the air, like the type in a champagne bottle that had not been opened yet.

The janitors began to file in solemnly as we trickled out of the office and into the hallway. 

“See you there,” Denise waved, lugging her typewriter along but still insisting to walk down the stairs “for her health.”

The first batch of people, my coworkers I assume, quickly entered the elevator. I leaned against the wall for a moment, looking up at the poorly-designed popcorn ceiling.

“C’mon,” Mariah grabbed my arm, “let’s catch this one, or we’ll be late!”

Just as she spoke, the elevator doors opened once more, a piercing ding signaling the lift’s arrival.

I followed along, more unwilling to resist than willing to go.

Brandi’s familiar tapping preceded her, then soon came Glen, still arguing with her about the budget of the office. A cartoon crash emanated from somewhere down the hall, and Ashara popped her head into the almost-closed elevator doors. 

I attempted to sink into the wall, where I assumed it would be both more comfortable and cooler. I failed.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Ashara said, not at all sarcastically.

“Yeah. And it would be even nicer if Mrs. Patton didn’t--” Glen started.

“I’m right here, as I’m sure you’re aware, Glen,” Brandi tapped her foot as she watched the numbers on the elevator tick down.

It would be nicer weather when I escaped the elevator, I thought to myself.

And, as luck would have it, the thought ran through my mind at the same time that the elevator came to a grinding halt.

“What’s going on?” Glen began banging on the walls.

“I’m sure it’s just a minor problem--” Brandi’s statement was interrupted by a flicker of the lights, then complete and utter darkness.

“So, Mariah, about that--” I began to say, but our immediate problems seemed to take precedence.

“Does someone have a flashlight? Where’s my phone?” I could discern that it was Ashara saying this. A few unnerving clanging noises later, and we had enough light to be able to tell that we were in an elevator.

“Well, damn,” Glen said, “hope this gets fixed soon.”

“What are we supposed to do? Anyone have a phone? Oh, right, I have a phone,” Ashara flicked off the light and, by the sound of it, dialed 911. “Yes,” she said, “we’re trapped in an elevator,” she continued, “mhmm… oh, we’re alright… that’s terrible! Oh, I understand completely. Whenever you get around to it. Thank you so much!”

I could already predict what she was about to say.

“Sorry guys, looks like we’re going to be in here for a while,” Ashara did not manage to surprise me.

“Apparently this blackout’s sweeping over the whole city,” Brandi commented, scrolling through a brightly colored, advertisement-covered news application.

“I guess your cake doesn’t really matter,” I remarked, hoping that Glen didn’t hear.

“What did you say?” He turned to me.

“Nothing,” My futile attempts to amalgamate with the walls were, annoyingly, still failing.

“Hey, you alright?” Mariah tapped my shoulder, her minty breath wafting in my direction.

“Yep,” I shook my head, then checked my watch. It was 5:30, and the afternoon was still rather young. I slumped onto the floor, crossing my legs, and took a deep breath of the stale air. It looked like we’d be in there for a while. All I had to do was avoid any interaction with Glen or Brandi, and I’d survive.

“Damn Southern California Edison!” Glen said in a sudden outburst, followed by more banging.

“That won’t help, Glen,” Ashara said brightly. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” Glen retorted.

Ashara didn’t respond, but unzipped her mammoth sized purse and extracted a small blue fan, then plugged it into her phone. It struggled to life, then began spinning.

“Never know when you’ll need something like this!” Ashara laughed. 

We all impatiently checked our watches and averted each other’s glances, until Brandi broke the silence.

“I’m sorry that this happened on your birthday, Mrs. Berman,” She shook her head.

“Ah, it’s fine,” Ashara was attempting to position the fan so it had any impact whatsoever on the temperature of her face. I was highly doubting whether that was possible.

The next hour passed rather uneventfully, just as the last hour of work did. Glen would occasionally get a look on his face, desperately press a few buttons, bang on the walls, and yell. Nothing would happen.

“Did you hear?” Brandi paused, as though any of us would know what she was talking about. Upon silence, she continued, “This power outage is supposedly one of the worst since the last century. Three fires have started because of this. Look at all these car crashes that happened because the street lights went out!” She shoved her phone in our faces.

“It’s a shame,” I said.

“We’re lucky, then,” Mariah said.

“Yeah, I guess we are. Ha,” Ashara had given up on the idea of the fan, and instead had begun ripping up a travel brochure that she had produced in a similar fashion from her bag.

“What are you doing?” Glen asked.

“Making fans. Because the other one is… busted, apparently,” Ashara wrinkled her nose, then set back to her work. In a few minutes, she’d folded the glossy paper into five small accordions, and fastened one end with a staple.

“Here,” Ashara handed the makeshift fans around, “it’s hot in here.”

“It is,” I sighed, but took the fan gratefully.

I checked my watch again. How was it already 8:00?

Brandi had begun humming. I thought it was dreadfully annoying, but others seemed to find it amusing. I only realized that it was the happy birthday song after the elevator had lit up with the discordant voices of my coworkers, who seemed to be enjoying the ritual of serenading Ashara.

“Gee, thanks guys,” Ashara pantomimed blowing out candles on a birthday cake, “just pretend like it’s devil’s food,” she punched Glen in the shoulder playfully. I could see him considering a pessimistic retort, but eventually he gave in and laughed.

“What did you wish for?” Mariah asked.

“I can’t tell you!” Ashara grinned.

“Hey, I have The Princess Bride downloaded to my phone,” Mariah said, while scrolling, “It’s not like we’re going to be doing anything else for the next few hours.”

Glen rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to watch a stupid kids movie.”

“You’ll like it, I promise,” Mariah set her phone against the wall of the elevator, and it lit up the confined space. 

I wasn’t one for movies, but I must admit, it was rather amusing. Even Glen laughed a few times. Thank goodness I was kitty corner from him in the elevator, not squished up against him like poor Brandi. 

About halfway through the movie, I heard a noise from above us.

“I think that’s a good sign!” Ashara looked up, scrutinizing the ceiling.

“Maybe,” Mariah looked around, as though some part of our surroundings would help her determine one way or the other.

Glen banged on the wall once more, and the lights flooded back in, nearly blinding my darkness-adjusted eyes. I blinked, certain that this was too good to be true.

“Ha, so it did work!” Glen said, triumphant.

“It was a coincidence,” Brandi said in a combination of excitement and frustration.

“Was not,” Glen sighed.

I put my sneakers back on and stood up, straightening myself, as though I was about to be received by the world when I exited the elevator.

“Ready?” Mariah asked, and with that, we began gliding down.

I checked my watch. It was 10:00. 

The doors clicked open, and a refreshing gulp of lobby air wafted in as my coworkers and I stepped out of our temporary prison.

“Hey, what was that you were going to talk to me about?” Mariah turned to me. We were the last ones out.

“Oh, I was just wondering…” I trailed off, and glanced at my watch hesitantly, “Would you like to go… for dinner some time?” I bit my tongue the second I let the words slip out of my mouth.

Mariah stepped back, surprised, “That… that would be nice,” She grinned.

I took another breath. 

“Hey, I know a great cake place within walking distance. I think they might even have devil’s food. Let’s go,” Mariah grabbed my hand, and we pushed the large glass doors open, stepping onto the near-empty city streets together.

“And it would be open now?” I tilted my head.

“Okay, maybe it’s not that great,” Mariah tilted her head back and laughed. I looked up to the stars, then back to her. I laughed too, a long, steady, rolling laugh that filled my chest.

We were free.