German Chocolate Cake

He had ceased being sad on his mom's birthday a while ago. He wasn't sure why it happened but in the early morning of what would have been his mom's 55th birthday he realized that he shouldn't be sad on October 15th.

He should be happy and do happy things to celebrate her. It was the day she came into the world. The day she started her journey to eventually be his mom.

The flip side of the coin, that spring day she was taken from him, that day was for sad.

Every other day of the year was lived with an eternal flame to make her proud.

He hoped he made her proud.

So, October 15th was about happy. It wasn't something he had to think about or force. It was just there, in his heart, an ingrained part of him now.

The celebration of his mom gracing the world, his life, with her loving presence couldn't be tarnished, even on the birthdays when the shit was hitting the fan at work.

On those birthdays he would take quiet moments of gratitude throughout the crazy day, relive a happy memory and it would carry him through the heaviness of a case.

It was a cleansing of the pallet so to speak, think about his mom, wipe out the case, then jump back into it lighter and with a rejuvenated clarity.

X

It was one of those 'shit hit the fan at work' birthdays and he was thinking about the German chocolate birthday cake he made for her when he was twelve. It was supposed to be fancy a layer cake.

It was a mess really and got messier with every passing minute. He wanted to make it tall, five layers instead of three. So with two additional cake pans borrowed from Mrs. Karns, he went to work.

The baking part was easy. He should have stopped there but of course that wouldn't have made any sense.

This cake had to out-cake all cakes that had come before it, so he saved up his allowance and bought two cake mixes for height, no thin layers for this cake, and six cans of Betty Crocker German Chocolate cake frosting - one for each layer, and an extra just in case he needed it.

His mistake was frosting it while it was still hot, but his mom would be home from work in 45 minutes and he wanted it to be done by the time she got there.

He frosted the slowly cooling, still hot layers with care. It was easy in one way, the frosting spread a little easier but difficult in a bigger way. The cake kept tearing.

But with mind focused and his tongue peeking out of his mouth, he didn't give up; slathering, fixing, patching the cake he was lovingly destroying as he went.

He used little hands to straighten the shifting layers as he went, figuring the eventual frosting on the outside would fix anything that didn't quite work out right and the cake would look good...pretty good.

By the second to last layer he was glooping the frosting on with abandon and gently spreading it with his hands, the licked clean spatula forgotten.

That done and hands licked clean in preparation for the finishing touches to his masterpiece, he carefully put the last layer of cake in place. Then, taking a big breath, he picked up the spatula again and started in on frosting the outside.

He had used a lot of frosting between layers, almost five cans, but thought with the one remaining can, along with the frosting oozing from the layers, he would have enough to cover his slightly askew work of art.

His mom firmly believed the cake was really just the vehicle for the frosting and he had to agree, so he used a lot of frosting.

He had just gotten the last of the frosting on the cake, once again shuffling it so it stood straight, when he heard the car in the drive.

Carrying the precarious cake to the table, he straightened it one last time with his frosting covered hands and went into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Cleaning up the mess could come later. Right now was about presentation. Will was at track and his dad wouldn't be home for a couple of hours, so it was just him and his mom and her birthday cake.

He bound into the living room with the energy of Tigger yelling, "Happy Birthday Mom!" as soon as she came through the door.

A quick birthday hug and release was the precursor to dragging her into the dining room and presenting the cake with a boisterous 'voila.'

"Oh honey pie..."

That was all she got out. They both looked on in awe or horror or...something, as the cake started to tip. Then, in slow motion, the layers slid off the table one after another in a chocolatey avalanche, landing with muted splats when each hit the previous victim of gravity and too much frosting.

The second to last layer hung precariously on the edge of the table before joining its brethren below a moment later. Only the bottom layer remained steadfast on the plate and a short trail of gooey frosting marked the path of trajectory to the destruction below.

As mother and son moved into the mouthwatering fumes of the disaster, a final glop of frosting joined the pile below.

One might think Jay, having labored tirelessly for the last two hours, would be devastated that his mom's present hit the floor.

But he was a twelve year old boy.

His eyes were lit with nothing short of joy and his face was split with a younger version of Detective Jay Halstead's shit kicking grin.

The slide and tumble, to his young mind, was the coolest thing ever and by the look on his mom's face she agreed.

They both crouched down looking at the new creation - the butterfly that had broken from the cocoon.

The cake had gone from an accidental replica of the leaning tower of Pisa, to a faux cow pie from a very big faux cow.

Bouncing up, he yelped in something akin to triumph, ran to the kitchen singing Happy Birthday at the top of his lungs and returned with a birthday candle and two forks.

X

He came back to the here and now with a smile on his face, a plan to make a German Chocolate birthday cake for his mom, with six layers, and an epiphany about the case.

It was the memory of that chaotic birthday cake and sitting on the floor with his mom while they devoured the 'tasty cow pie', that reset his thinking, resulting in a, 'missing piece for the solve' epiphany.

Wrapped in the happy of October 15th and sporting a shit kicking grin, he realized his mom, in his eyes at least, broke the case. He chuckled at the wonder of it as a hum of the birthday song vibrated in his heart and quietly escaped his lips, "Happy Birthday Detective Mom, Happy Birthday to you."