Rabee Jaber: Confessions

It wasn’t closed. I pushed open the door and went inside. The air was cool, and smelled sweet. I relaxed the moment I entered. The place was empty, no one was at any of the tables, and a woman (dressed in white) was sitting behind the glass counter with the cakes — a young woman, sixteen or seventeen years old, younger than my students. She smiled and asked what size I wanted (I’d ordered my favorite kind but hadn’t specified how big a piece), then she pointed at two different sizes, medium and large. I ordered a large and sat down at a table by the window. The place was peaceful, and the sounds outside were soft, as if a great distance lay between me and the street. I looked at the cars and thought of distant things, and when I felt her lean over and put the plate on the table, I turned. She smiled at me, and I said thank you.

She said something to me, though I’m not sure what exactly. She might have been telling me to enjoy the piece of cake — I can’t recall her words, but I remember her voice. She was pleasant, a pleasant young woman, and she set the piece down in front of me: the fork and the knife, and the plate with the large piece of chocolate cream cake in the middle of it. Then she went back to her spot behind the counter. That was all. But a pleasant feeling came over me.

I sat there, enjoying the calm — a strange calm that spread through me as I looked at the piece of cake on the plate and then turned and looked outside. Cars were going by. A man carrying a bag was walking on the sidewalk. Another man was pushing a stroller with a baby in it. A woman carefully got out of a car, almost falling over because of her high heels. A car horn went off: it was loud, but seemed soft and low to my ears. The window separated me from the street, and through it I saw people going back to their homes, and lights coming on outside: in the shops and in the homes.

I cut the piece in two. I ate the first half, then set down the fork and looked outside. Images, memories — so many of them — came and went as I sat there like that, though I didn’t close my eyes. The place was calm. No one came in and no one went out the whole time. I could sense the young woman behind the counter, and I could hear soft music. But I wasn’t thinking about her. I was there and I wasn’t. I was somewhere else.

I picked up the fork and began eating the second half of the piece. It was the most delicious cake I’d ever had. I ate the whole piece and gathered up the crumbs on the fork and ate them too. I ate the whole piece, and felt happy.