Unscheduled Mess

There wasn’t enough time in Mollie’s schedule for things to go wrong today. She’d already crossed off three things in her planner: make the bed, shower, and get dressed. At least, she’d tried to. She’d hit a snag when her ill dachshund, Pepper, had used the dress she’d originally planned on wearing today as the perfect spot to vomit upon. So now her outfit consisted of her second-best party dress and a pair of wedge sandals that only sort of matched but were much too tight to wear all day.

But that was fine; she was still on time to meet Vira at the bakery and pick up August’s cake by one o’clock.

She was feeling hopeful about finding a parking spot until the BMW in front of her cut her off and took the last available space. Mollie sighed heavily, backing up her car and going for another loop around the building. A chirpy and obnoxious tune blasted through her car’s speakers as Vira tried calling her.

“Hey, where are you? You’re, like, half an hour late.” Vira asked, her voice crackling through Mollie’s car radio. Her car was over eight years old, but the radio system and Bluetooth still worked great. “Did you get in a wreck or something? You’re usually so punctual.”

“Hey Vir, I’m outside. Just,” she exhaled loudly, forcing her tone to sound light and cheery despite her mood. “Trying to find a new parking spot, that’s all!”

Vira’s sigh echoed through the speakers. “Mollie, I can already tell that you’re doing that thing again. Do you stress out about every little detail that doesn’t even really matter? Everything is going to be fine, trust me. Besides, you know what my brother wants for his birthday, right?”

Mollie didn’t respond for a moment as she focused on getting her sedan into a tight spot. “August and I have been together for three years, eight months, and twenty-seven days. And we’ve all been friends longer than that even. So trust me, I know exactly what he wants.”

Vira sighed again. “As long as you’re sure about this. I’m inside waiting at the counter.”

Mollie chose to hang up the phone instead of responding directly. Tucking her strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear, adjusting her glasses, and swinging her “Holding it Together” tote bag, she marched into the bakery. She hoped that the air she was giving off was “party planner of the century on a mission” and not a “frazzled kindergarten teacher that desperately needs a coffee.” To be fair, though, she did need a coffee. When she’d gone to make her usual extra-strength morning brew, she’d found that her coffee maker’s plug had been chewed and the whole machine didn’t work. She’d been planning on stopping to pick up a coffee before she got to the bakery, but had spent most of the morning cleaning up dog vomit and then taking a second shower to clean the idea of vomit off her freckled skin. But that was fine; Mollie could fight through the caffeine headache. Even though the glare from the sun was enough to make her dizzy, despite her transition glasses.

Sugar Belle’s bakery was decorated like a fifties diner: black and white checkered tile floors, soft pastel pink walls, and neon blue letter signs displaying the names of their various specialty baked goods, like the Cherry Bomb Pie and the Egg Cream Cupcake. Mollie had always liked their gimmick, and their Cinna Twist & Shout was a favorite of both her and August.

That was why she’d chosen them to make August’s birthday cake in his favorite German chocolate flavor. Vira was waiting for her at the counter, where a bored-looking teenage clerk was drumming his fingers on the metal top. She tried not to wince at the bright lights that were aggravating her headache. “Sorry I’m late; I had the hardest time getting a parking spot.”

Vira offered her a half smile, turning her attention back to the clerk. “Well, here she is. You think you can go get the cake for us now, sweetheart?”

The clerk, whose roller skate-shaped name tag read “Adam,” groaned and shuffled back to the kitchen, obviously outraged at being made to do his job. He huffed his way back out with the cake box. “Here. One Sherman’s chocolate cake.”

Mollie forced a too-loud laugh. “Right, Sherman’s chocolate. I think you mean German chocolate.”

He stared at her blankly, finally looking down at the cake box. “No… this is Sherman’s chocolate cake.”

The color slowly drained from Mollie’s face. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

The empty, soulless look in his eyes proved he was not joking in the slightest. He sighed loudly and then said, “Sherman’s chocolate cake, named after Sherman Howard, the original owner’s nephew, or whatever. It’s a chocolate cake that got soaked in maraschino cherry juice and then frosted.”

Vira sucked in a breath. “Sorry, you said cherry juice?”

He glanced over at her painfully slowly. “Yeah. A whole jar of maraschino cherries goes into this thing. I hope your boyfriend likes cherries.”

Mollie rubbed the bridge of her nose under her glasses. “He’s highly allergic to them. What am I supposed to do with this? I specifically called and ordered a German chocolate cake.”

He shrugged. “Beats me.”

“How soon would you be able to have a German chocolate cake ready?”

He scratched the back of his neck, groaning loudly. “Maybe by four o’clock? That’s if I get Claire to start baking right now instead of doing anything else.”

Mollie took a deep breath, stepping back to flip through her planner. “If I hurry now to get the place decorated and pay the band instead of getting lunch, I should be able to be back here around four twenty-five to pick it up.”

Adam sighed again. “Fine, but you’ve got to pay for this other cake now.”

“I most certainly will—”

Vira tapped her debit card on the counter. “I’ve got this covered, Moll. You just get going.”

Mollie rushed back out the door, quickly dodging another incoming customer. Trying not to trip in her wedge sandals that she never wore, she jogged through the parking lot. She slammed the door of her sedan and pulled out her planner again. “Okay, now I just have to get across town to the park to meet with the band. They’re supposed to be there by now for setup, so at least this part of the day will go right.”

Ultimately, the trip that usually took her seven minutes and forty-three seconds ended up taking her twelve minutes and sixteen seconds. That was three minutes she didn’t have to spare. Despite driving the speed limit like the respectful, law-abiding citizen that she was, she’d hit every single traffic light on the way and been forced to stop. She checked her watch as she stepped out of the car. “Two-ten.” She spared a glance at her planner, even though she had the whole thing memorized by now. “Twenty minutes late,” she exhaled slowly. “I’ve got to run.” Rather than hobbling across the park to the gazebo and risking rolling her ankle in her too-tight wedge shoes, she pulled them off and elected to run barefoot through the park while carrying them.

She hurried to the gazebo where the band was supposed to be getting ready to perform, only to find that the grunge rock band, “Saint Garage and the Dragons,” were just sitting and… not practicing.

“What are you guys doing? You’re supposed to be setting up and practicing before the party tonight.” She said, hopping on one foot as she struggled to pull her shoes back on.

A blue- and purple-haired girl looked up from tuning her bass guitar. “Can’t practice. Cody’s out with the stomach flu.”

Mollie blinked, freezing the same forced smile on her face that she’d given Adam at Sugar Belle’s. “And who is Cody?”

The boy sitting at the drum set pushed back his hair. “Cody’s the main singer and guitar player, man. We’ve never gone on without him.” He spun his drumsticks in his hands. “The rest of us just showed up to grab the gear we left here yesterday and get paid.”

Mollie wanted to scream. Her head was pounding from the heat and the caffeine headache that she still had yet to fix. Instead of lashing out at them loudly, she simply said, “If you don’t perform, I can only give you half of the deposit that was agreed upon.”

The band members groaned collectively. “See, Derek, I told you it wouldn’t work.” The blue- and purple-haired girl grumbled, getting up and unplugging her bass from the amplifier.

He scowled at her. “Shut up, Raina. Let’s just get our gear and bounce.”

“Wait, please don’t go. Are you sure you can’t perform without Cody? Maybe one of you could sing in his place?” Mollie said, watching helplessly as Saint Garage and the Dragons packed away their equipment.

“Cody’s our ride or die, man. We would never do him dirty like that.” Derek grunted, pushing the case containing his drums into the back of their van.

Raina offered her a smile and a pat on the shoulder. “We’ll catch you next time. Enjoy your party.”

Mollie waited until they’d finished loading up their obnoxiously painted van and driven away before sinking to the gazebo steps. Her phone buzzed in her bag. Sniffing softly as tears welled up in her eyes, she pulled it out to see half a dozen texts from members of August’s birthday party group chat. Three of them had come down with the flu, and another one had gotten called into work and couldn’t come. The worst of it was Barry and Linn, who had to stay home to look after their sick puppies -ironically, Pepper's littermates.

The last text was from Vira, asking if they should reschedule the party for a different time. Mollie couldn’t bring herself to answer the text, her eyes blurry from the tears rolling down her cheeks. She could barely make out the time at the top of her phone, which read forty-eight. She rubbed her eyes under her glasses, the weight of now being late to pick up the cake being added to the colossal failure of the day. Her planner weighed heavy in her tote bag, bearing the weight of her sins against her schedule.

“Excuse me, miss. Did someone order a cake?”

Mollie sniffled, looking up, noting the familiar leather jacket being worn by a tall, handsome, ebony-skinned—“August?”

August grinned, holding his red-striped motorcycle helmet under one arm and a Sugar Belle’s bakery box in the other hand. “Hey, Mollie Dolly.”

She quickly wiped her eyes, clearing her throat. “What are you doing here?”

He sat down next to her, setting the box and helmet down beside him. “Well, according to Vira, I’m supposed to have a birthday party here?”

She cringed, looking down from his soft brown eyes at a chip in the gazebo steps. “You were supposed to.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she went on. “But the cake was wrong, and the band bailed, and then all of our friends canceled, and Pepper was sick this morning. The whole plan is ruined.”

August chuckled softly, cupping her cheek. “My Mollie Dolly, so buried in planning the perfect party for me.” She blushed as he went on. “I don’t care about the band or being ditched by our friends.”

“The flu is going around,” she sniffled.

He raised an eyebrow at her, grinning. “I do care about poor Pepper back at your apartment, and we should bring her a treat for her suffering. But really, all I wanted for this birthday was to spend time with you.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Her shoulders sagged with relief, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “I love you, August.”

“I love you too, Mollie.” Turning, he picked up the bakery box and opened it to reveal a perfect German chocolate cake. “And I’m going to love this cake. You still have those bamboo forks in your magic tote bag?”

She laughed, getting them out of her bag. “You know me, I always have a plan.”