A Gift?

By: Elvina Lau

A faint but sweet smell wafts out of the box, making my mouth water. I gape at the cake in the box, then slowly look up at her, though my eyes continuously stray back to take in the stunning sight.

‘Don’t you want it?’ Her black doe eyes twinkle as she smiles at me.

‘This... is this really for me?’

‘Of course, it’s your birthday!’ She frowns but continues, ‘Well, it’s a bit late, but it’s all because of the coronavirus.’

Wordlessly, I take the box. I still can’t believe she really gave me a gift. It’s been two years since we were in lockdown—two years since I’ve contacted her or my other friends. Unexpectedly, although we aren’t as close as before, she still remembers my birthday.

As soon as I open the box, all I can do is gape at the expensive Italian cake inside. Incredibly fluffy and light, with a sprinkle of tiramisu powder on top, they seem to tremble with joy, yet it doesn’t crumble. The cake has multiple layers, brown with many minute holes, and in the middle is a dark, still liquid sauce pouring down. Moving close to smell it even better, I still feel a slight chill—like it only came out of the fridge!

Then, she sits opposite me and pulls out her phone. I don’t know what she wants to do: take photos of me or text her friends? She seems to feel my gaze as she looks up from her phone—and there I see a frown. Is she mad at me? What did I do?

‘You haven’t started eating it yet!’ She says with a nudge and a smile, showing a row of bright white teeth. ‘It looks really delicious!’

‘I—’ I glance down and press my thumb against my index finger. Swallowing thickly, I quickly say, ‘If you want, you can try it.’ She bought this cake, so she deserves—no, she is obliged to eat it. And good friends share food. It wouldn’t be nice if I just took it all for myself without giving her a taste, right?

‘Huh? No, no!’ She shakes her head frantically. ‘This is my birthday present for you; it’s for you to enjoy! Anyway, it’s almost time. I’m going out to order some food. Watch my bag!’ She takes her wallet out of her bag and walks to the cashier. Soon, she blends into the crowd. Even though the pandemic has only alleviated slightly, more people began coming out to shop, play or eat.

The cake now doesn’t look as good as it did before. In one spoonful, the bitterness of the tiramisu is overwhelming, and the chocolate is pungent in my mouth. My chest feels even heavier than before… Shouldn’t I be happy? I resist the urge to scratch or rub my face. Why do I feel this way? And all because someone bought me a cake...?

How are you so pitiful? Do you not have other friends? Does no one care about you?

What? My breath sticks in my throat.

Is it not your birthday? Friends will gift you an item, hang out with you, and eat and watch movies together. Do you not have any?

Shut up! That’s a lie. It’s only because of the quarantine and lockdown that I can’t play or talk with my friends. The next time we see each other, they’ll certainly wish me a happy birthday.

Is it not already over? Who remembers your birthday again? Except for her. And you do know that phones and social media exist. Anyone from anywhere or anytime can—

Slam!

‘You won’t believe this. They stopped selling ramen!’

I put a hand over my erratically beating heart. She wasn’t standing in front of me a second ago. Gulping, I ask, ‘What?’

‘I had to order Sichuan rice noodles instead!’ She pouts, looks over at the cashier, and continues to complain. ‘And I also need to wait. My order number is 0499.’ She waves a ticket at me.

Flopping onto the seat, she then asks, ‘How’s the cake? How are you still not done?’

‘It’s good. And I’m taking the time to enjoy its flavour.’

But before I can go on, she exclaims, ‘They called my order number! Good, I didn’t have to wait that long. Watch my bag for me, okay?’ Without waiting for an answer, she runs to the counter.

Well, that’s that.

As she leaves my sight, the smile on my face slips away.

You wish that were you, huh! If you had her cheerful, easy-going personality, people would love to communicate with you! You are such a bore in comparison. No wonder she left so soon, too. I bet the order number is still at 0450, and she only said that to get away from you!

Clenching my fists, I grit through my teeth, ‘Stop.’

What. A. Pity. Try initiating conversations. How about you actually talk to people, enjoy what they have to say, hang out, and love your friends in general.

And people would like me more, I know!

Maybe if you could—

I know that. With or without the pandemic happening, I still don’t know my friends well. I don’t know what they like, and I can’t buy them presents, and though I know it would be better if I’d just talked with them, well, I feel annoyed whenever they speak!

All of a sudden, the splendid birthday cake crumbles right in front of my eyes.