Hi There, Cupcake!
The floating birthday party circuit of my childhood.
It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m at another birthday party. I like going to them and I hate going to them. It’s a floating party, the same group of kids every time. The moms even have the same maid who works for all of them. Her name is Frances, and she cleans all our apartments. I love her, she’s always so nice to me. I think she loves me, too.
We all go to the same school and our mothers are friendly, and it’s always someone’s birthday. And they have a rule that we all go to each other’s parties, whether we like each other or not. I have to wear a dress because the parties are dressy, no pants allowed for girls. Fancy. My mother says it’s because it’s a “special occasion.” Geez, we’re just kids. It’s Saturday. I have to wear a dress all week at school. I’m not a big fan of dressing like a girl.
But I kind of like the dress I’m wearing today. It’s not too bad. It’s got stripes that go from side to side. I think it’s called horizontal. I love stripes. These stripes are red, orange, and purple. Bright, happy colors. The dress has short-sleeves and it’s not too uncomfortable. The thing I hate the most is wearing tights. They never stay up, they’re scratchy, hot, and get baggy at my knees and wrinkled at my ankles, and I’m always wiggling them back up, so I don’t feel like I’m waddling like a duck.
My favorite thing about these parties are the cupcakes and the candy. No one serves big birthday cakes anymore. The new thing is cupcakes, and there’s always a selection of different colors. Mommy told me they use food dye to color the icing. We made some together one day. I learned that if you mix different colors, you can get all new colors. Some combinations work really well, and others don’t. I learned that if you mix red and blue together, you get purple! The purple cupcakes are the ones I like the best. The cupcakes are happy colors, just like the stripes on my dress. Mom told me a little bit about the color wheel. It’s very complicated. You can make millions of colors with the color wheel. I know that’s a lot of colors. Millions. Wow.
We have to play stupid party games before we get to eat anything. But there’s a new one that I like, because it’s so silly. The object of the game is to chew one or two saltine crackers, and NOT swallow them, and then try to whistle a song, with chewed up soggy saltines in your mouth the whole time. It’s a mess. No one ever guesses the song, and the floor gets dirty because we’re all spitting wet saltine globs all over the place. And after we’re finished playing, Frances has to clean it up.
Then, we play pin the tail on the donkey. It’s my favorite, and I’ll tell you why, but don’t tell anyone, okay? No one knows this, but I cheat. One time a mom tied my blindfold on, and I realized that if I tip my head back just the tiniest bit, I can sneak a peek out of the bottom of the mask. No one ever understands how I win the game every time. I feel a little badly about cheating. But only a little. I like to win.
The games are over, and Cindy’s mom, Mrs. Dixon (it’s Cindy’s birthday) calls us to the table where the food is. The table is loaded with bowls of potato chips, pretzels, M&Ms, Tootsie Rolls, Smarties, and Pixy Stix. There are hot dogs, too, but I’m not interested in those. They’re not the kind I like. I like Jewish hot dogs. These are Oscar Mayer, and they don’t taste right to me.
The door from the kitchen squeaks and swings wide and I see Frances bracing it open with her tush, as she comes through, a big plate of cupcakes in her hands. They’re all different colors piled high in a rainbow stack. Red, blue, orange, green, and my favorite, PURPLE! She sees me standing right next to the table and the expression on her face changes. Now, she’s smiling her big, beautiful smile at me, and when no one is paying attention, she looks right at me and jutting her chin toward me, just a little bit, she quietly says “Hi, there, cupcake, how’s my favorite little girl today?” Suddenly, I feel better. She puts the plate down in the center of the red paper tablecloth, and as soon as she’s done, I run over and wrap my arms around her––just below her hips, it’s as high as I could reach––and I squeeze with all my might.
Frances is wearing her white uniform. It’s a dress, and it’s spotless. That’s her work dress. It’s never ever dirty, even though she does lots of dirty work. I wonder about that. Sometimes when she’s at our house, she changes into her regular clothes to go home to Brooklyn on the subway. I wonder if she has more than one of those white dresses. Her work shoes are white, too, and always perfectly clean. Sometimes I forget she’s a maid and think she’s a nurse. They wear white dresses, too. She’s a very tall lady. The only lady I know who’s taller is my mom’s friend Carol. Carol is over 6 feet tall! Frances has soft, brown skin and very black hair. She’s the only brown grown-up I know.
She stands away from the table and waits, in case Mrs. Dixon wants her to do something. I walk over to the plate of cupcakes, and I’m crowded out by all the other kids. While I was hugging Frances, they mobbed the table. By the time I get close enough, there’s only one purple cupcake left. I reach out for it, but Teddy pushes me out of the way and grabs it for himself. So, I settle on a blue one. I didn’t know back then that even though the cupcakes were all different colors, they tasted exactly the same.
I take the cupcake, and step away from the table. I feel a little disappointed, but I’m still happy to get to eat one. I slowly and carefully lick all the icing off the cake and walk back to the table. I never eat the cake part. I put it down with the paper wrapper still on it, and I edge back over to the plate of cupcakes. I reach for an orange one this time, and as I lift it from the plate, Mrs. Dixon runs over to me, shouting, “Nancy, one cupcake is ENOUGH. You don’t want to get fat, do you?” I hate getting yelled at, I feel so ashamed. The room gets really quiet, and everyone is looking at me. I want to hide, but there’s nowhere to go. Mrs. Dixon walks away after scolding me; back to talk to her friends, as if nothing is wrong.
I stand near the table, sad and embarrassed, and then I hear someone whisper my name. It’s Frances, standing near the swinging door. She saw the whole thing, and says “Nancy, come with me, sweetheart. I’ve got something for you. I walk toward the kitchen. Frances is holding the door open, and I scoot under her outstretched arm, and into the clean, clean kitchen. I look up to the counter, and there, on another platter, is a tower of cupcakes. Extra ones. Maybe for Cindy to bring with her to school on Monday? There are plenty of purple ones. My mouth waters and then I remember what had just happened. Frances reaches for a purple cupcake and then turns around and grabs a knife from the dish rack, and slowly and carefully slices the wedge of icing right off the top of the cake and hands the gooey disk of sugar and butter to me. She stands back, leaning against the counter, and watches me. She says, “that’s your favorite part, right?” I search her eyes for extra permission. This is really okay? my expression asks. She nods her approval, and I stand there, eating the icing with my hands, licking my fingers and making a mess. When I finish, she asks me if I’d like another. I say no, I’m good.
That day, I didn’t go home filled with sugar. I went home filled with love and absolved of shame.
Later, I go through the goody bag I brought home from the party and eat some Pixy Stix and M&Ms. I play with the Olive Oyl Pez dispenser I found at the bottom of the bag. I give the Tootsie Rolls to my mom because she loves them, and we have Hebrew National frankfurters and baked beans for dinner. My favorite!
Afterword: The other day, I was thinking about the work I do. For those of you who don’t know, I’m a graphic designer. The color palettes I love the most are bright and happy. I’m not a lover of earth tones, different shades of browns and beiges, grays and subtle greens are lost on me. I do believe that I’m using the inspiration of all the candy colors I’ve ever loved in my designs. The work is sweet! Check it out at StyleYourStack.com.
AND one more fabulous thing. I’ve been publishing for about 13 months on Substack, and today, The Rumpus published an essay I wrote for the Voices on Addiction column. It’s my first lit mag acceptance. I’m over the moon! Take a look, it’s a good one!
It would be swell if you’d become a paid subscriber and support my writing! Or, you can chip in because I like pink cupcakes, too!
AND….I’ll be teaching a 5 Week Zoom Master Class in May all about the ins and outs of publishing on Substack: So, You Want to Write on Substack But You Don’t Know Where to Start? Find out more or register now!
People lived like this?
They just .. went to parties and somebody else cleaned their homes?
Delicious writing, Nan. xo