When my sister Magda left home at 18, I breathed a sigh of relief. We’d never really gotten along, but I was sure that things would improve now that we weren’t seeing each other every day.
I spent the next two years working hard, looking forward to the time when I could go to university and move to the city myself. But tragedy struck: two months before I was set to graduate, Mum was struck down with a degenerative illness. As she quickly became less capable of caring for herself and with Dad needing to go back to work full-time to pay for all the extra medical bills, I knew it was up to Magda and I to take care of Mum.
“We should take it in turns,” I suggested to Magda, a few weeks before Mum was due to be released from hospital. But life on “the outside” had made Magda even more selfish. “I can’t do it!” she whined. “I’m nearly finished my degree. I’ll lose everything. You already live at home. Just stay one more year and then I’ll take your place.”
I don’t know if I really believed Magda’s promise, but Mum was so grateful to have me home, I knew I couldn’t have made any other choice. But I was also determined that Magda would do her share; after all, it was her mum as well.
“But I can’t!” Magda exclaimed, when I brought it up at the end of the year. “I’m getting married.”
“Since when?” I demanded angrily. It was the first I’d heard that she was even seeing someone.
“Oh, you know. A few weeks now,” Magda replied breezily. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to tell you. Because now you’ll have to stay at home and keep caring for Mum.”
I knew she was right, but I couldn’t believe how little Magda seemed to care about her responsibilities. I deferred university yet again and waited bitterly as Magda lived life to the full and hardly even came home to see Mum. And the more bitter I became, the more determined I was that one day, Magda was going to pay for her selfishness.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, so what happened was never my intention. When Magda came home on the weekend of her wedding, she was having a hens night at the local bar. I didn’t even think I’d be invited — things had grown steadily worse between us — but I was.
“Well, look who’s here, Little Miss Spinster in waiting,” a drunk Magda crowed when I entered the bar. I couldn’t believe she had said it; we both knew the reasons I was still at home! I should have left there and then, but instead I had a drink, then another, then another. It didn’t take too long before I was rip-roaring drunk and really out of it.
“I think you’d better let me take you home,” a voice beside me suggested. I didn’t realise who it was at first, but then I recognised him: it was Matt, a guy I’d had a huge crush on at school. It had never gone anywhere because when we graduated Matt left and I, of course, stayed.
“I’m fine!” I slurred, but we both knew I wasn’t fine, I’d never been drunk before in my life and Matt drove me home and also gave me his number!
When I got inside, I realised how hungry I was. Famished, actually. Taking care of all Mum’s needs, I often forgot to take care of myself and eating was one of the things I sometimes neglected. I looked clumsily through the cupboards for something to eat, but couldn’t find anything; and then I saw it. Right in front of me on the counter was Magda’s beautiful wedding cake. It had two tiers and was covered in scores of beautiful pink rosettes. At that moment, it looked like the most delicious thing I had ever seen. Without even thinking of revenge, I tore off a massive piece, then another, devouring the precious cake on the eve of the wedding. And then I went to bed!
I woke up a few hours later, keenly aware of what I had done. What was I going to do? Everyone, not just Magda, was going to kill me! I stumbled out to the kitchen and saw the completely wrecked cake. Then, before I knew what I was thinking, I opened the front door and let the dog in. And I left the door open.
In the morning, there was a hysterical shriek as Magda realised what had happened. Even better, as she had arrived home hours after me, everyone assumed that it was her mistake — she had left the door open and the dog got in!
The wedding still went off beautifully, but I know Magda spent the reception in agony, realising she would have the only wedding in history in which the bride and groom don’t cut the cake! And she never knew that I was the one who ate it!
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