Chapter 23 Ube Cake
Ube Cake
Carmello
Deep purple with a white chocolate center.
An earthy aftertaste like sweet potato, slightly nutty, a hint of coconut.
For Olivia’s sixteenth birthday, my mom and Paula made her a cake that was perfect (not too sweet, low on the vanilla flavor, just the way we all liked it), and I saw tears sitting in the corners of her eyes when they surprised her with it.
“I haven’t had a homemade cake since…” She trailed off, but I knew she meant the fire. She didn’t mention it much, and I think that’s because she was someone who felt it best to move on from things, but she did call me in the middle of the night whenever she’d wake up after a bad dream about it.
While she blew out her sixteen candles, I placed a hand at the small of her back.
That night, we went ice skating at the rink downtown.
She’d been wanting to go for a while and was determined to be a pro right away.
Each time she fell, I’d help her up and she’d roll her eyes and say, “Don’t be so smug about it.
” We teased and kissed in the cold, warmed up with hot chocolate, talked about other things we wanted to experience together.
The next day, she didn’t show up for her shift at Celia’s.
Her parents said she left at 6 a.m. They assumed she had an early shift at work.
But her phone was going straight to voice mail, and it was the first time I ever felt like my heart wasn’t in my body.
Winter brought an early nightfall, and my mom paced the kitchen, cursing in Tagalog when she accidentally knocked over pots.
My dad picked me up to search Providence, and by this point, her parents were worried too.
They allowed her freedom to roam, but they’d never gone this long without hearing from her.
I finally got a call around 7 p.m. “Someone on the train was kind enough to let me borrow a charger,” Olivia said, and I could hear the smile in her voice—still happy after chatting it up with this generous stranger.
The relief came first. Swift. A long breath.
Until she started explaining that she woke up with the sudden urge to see Boston, a birthday present for herself.
Her phone was only on 25 percent because she forgot to put it on the charger the night before and then she forgot to bring the charger with her on her impromptu trip.
She got caught up exploring museums, trying not to slip on patches of black ice, and hitting as many indie shops as she could find before her phone died.
“I bought you The Fellowship of the Ring from Harvard Book Store.”
That she thought of me like this on her last-minute trip made my stomach warm.
Months before, I had told her I’d been wanting to read the series, but I never got around to it.
“Thank you, O,” I said. “But you didn’t think to ask the staff to use a phone?
Or maybe use the money from buying the book for a charger instead? Everyone was worried. I was…worried.”
“I’m sorry, Mello,” she said sweetly, trying to coax me out of whatever resentment I had started to feel. “Will you forgive me?”
How could I say I wouldn’t? She was her own person, and I already knew the same things I liked about her sometimes drove me crazy.
I could never stay mad at her for long and was desperate to see her.
So, my mom and I went to wait at the train station, and I’ll never forget my mom’s sharp breath at the sight of her.
“I must’ve misread the schedule, Celia,” Olivia said. “I swear I didn’t know I was on it.”
My mom wasn’t very physically affectionate—she showed her love in other ways—but she surprised us both by pulling Olivia in for a hug. “I’m happy you’re okay,” she said, “but if you do another no-call no-show, I’ll fire you.”
Olivia’s body stiffened, and I could see her taking serious note of my mom’s warning. But I had a feeling my mom only said it out of fear that Olivia’s impulsivity would frighten her again.
That night, Olivia’s parents gave her a warning of their own.
Though they seemed more interested in what she had captured on a disposable camera while sightseeing in Boston than in disciplining her.
While they developed the film, Olivia and I sat in the back seat of their car, waiting in the Walgreens parking lot.
And I couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you wait for me to go to Boston with you? ”
We had made plans to see the public library and to take a boat tour and to visit the Salem Witch Museum a month before, and I really wanted to understand her thought process.
“You just took time off from the restaurant to skate with me, Mello,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to take a whole day off anytime soon. And I got this crazy itch to get up and go—like Boston was calling to me. Do you ever feel like that?”
“Sometimes,” I said, but I didn’t know if it was exactly true.
I had urges to try new hobbies, I wanted more time to read books like the one I was holding to my chest, and I even wanted to learn new ways of cooking.
I had the desire to travel for sure. But it never felt like it’d eat at me if I didn’t, and never did I feel rushed to get up and go somewhere else.
I realized then that Olivia was much more like her parents than like me.
She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry, Mello, we can go together soon. You’d love it there.”
I was sure that I would, especially if we were together.
But it was at that moment that I realized I’d have to be a little faster if I wanted to follow her.
And I did want that, because while she was sitting beside me after one of the longest days of my life, her thigh pressing against my thigh, our fingers entwined, it felt like my heart had finally returned to my body.