Cut the Cake - 1. Cut the Cake

My problem began when my boyfriend made me a cake.

Okay, let me back up a second. It was my birthday, and Jimmy decided a celebration was in order. Normally, I try to avoid birthdays and things like that. Too much bother over yet another year past. But Jimmy is such a sweetheart, and really, I'm kind of new at the whole boyfriend thing, so when he trailed the hint in front of me, I didn't voice any objection.

"What kind of cake do you like?" He queried.

This was a normal question-for-the-sake-of-information thing, right? I mean, we've discovered some lovely things about one another over the past few months, but how can you convey every personal piece of information in such a short time. We're nerds, not cyborgs.

"Carrot cake," I replied without hesitation. I love a good carrot cake.

"Aaaand, what plans do we have this week?"

I sighed. Now I'd have to look at the calendar. I rose from my chair. "Let me go see." I returned from the kitchen calendar a moment later. "Nothing that I can see."

Jimmy smiled one of his mischievous smiles – the kind which skewered my heart in the first place. "Great."

All this leads to this past weekend: I had to work doing some tutoring on Saturday, but Jimmy seemed unusually okay with that. When I got back to the apartment, I smelled the unmistakable scents of spice and baking.

I opened the door. "Hey, Jimmy, what have been up to?" I called out.

"You're home early," his voice echoed from the kitchen. I heard the clatter of a pan in the sink.

Walking into the kitchen, I found Jimmy up to his elbows in soapy water. And on the counter, a large rectangular sheet cake. Carrot cake. I strongly suspected cream cheese frosting, too. I love cream cheese frosting. Almost as much as Jimmy. Don't tell him I said that.

"Just what did you do?" I demanded.

"Nothing. Just a little birthday cake."

"Little? That thing's the size of football field."

"But it's a carrot cake. You said you liked carrot cake."

"I do. And it smells incredible. But it's enormous."

"Well, I thought maybe you'd be willing to share a little with all our friends."

My eyes narrowed. "Friends? Share carrot cake?"

My boyfriend turned and hugged me with soapy arms. "I just thought maybe a few friends coming over to celebrate your birthday would be a good thing. That's not a bad idea, is it?"

I wanted to shout. This is where Jimmy and I are different – he's gregarious, a friend of all the world. I'm shy, retiring, and terrible at small talk. This could be a disaster.

"Jimmy, I'm just…" The look of apprehension on Jimmy's face silenced anything else I was going to say. How can a man of our age look like such a kid? "…oh, all right. Fine, I guess that's all right."

I wasn't going to be enthusiastic.

But Jimmy smiled back at me just the same. "Thank you. You'll see. It's going to be fantastic."

My acquiescence earned me a kiss. I forgot about being irritated for few moments.

"Who's coming?"

"Friends. Val and Dave and AC from across the street. That first year teacher from school, Drew; the English woman, what's her name? Oh, and tim said he was coming, and maybe his husband, too. And your brother and his wife, they're coming early."

"Why early?"

"To help with setup. They'll be here in under an hour."

"Setup? I thought this was just a few friends."

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty of cake."

"As long as I get half the frosting."

"Only half?" Jimmy teased.

"Hey, carrot cake is my favorite." I kissed Jimmy again. "Well, almost my favorite."

"I think we're going to have to make a quick trip to the store for some soft drinks, though."

"Oh?"

"Well, I bought plenty of prosecco, but I kind of forgot about the other stuff."

"I can go get that," I volunteered.

"For your own party? No way."

"Sure, why not? I can go."

"We'll both go," Jimmy insisted.

"What about my brother? What if he and Jeannine come early?"

"We can leave the door unlocked, with a note. They're trustworthy."

I cocked an eyebrow at Jimmy. He and I have gotten to understand each other pretty well, but he clearly doesn't know my brother.

"Come on, let me just finish these, and we can go. The sooner we get out the door, the sooner we get back."

And so we made a whirlwind trip to the store, leaving the cake to cool and a note for my brother and his wife.

Forty minutes later, we burst in the door, laughing and breathless from hustling up the stairs. We might possibly have kissed on the landing. You can review the security camera tapes if you want.

"Hey, brother mine, happy birthday." I received a one-arm bro-hug. "Working on setting up the bar here," my older sibling pointed out proudly.

"Thanks. Let me put these packages down in the kitchen."

I hate jarring surprises. I got one the moment I entered the kitchen. There on the counter was the cake – that big beautiful, rectangular cake. My big beautiful carrot cake.

And there, in a completely random spot in that lovely, beautifully frosted cake, was a rectangular hole. Someone had taken a rectangle of cake out. And not a corner or a side piece, this was rectangular hole was cut in a strange, capricious and arbitrary spot. No way to miss it. No easy way to accommodate it.

And someone had taken a rectangle's worth of frosting.

At least I knew it hadn’t been Jimmy. That left my brother as the culprit. Surely Jeannine wouldn't do a thing like that. My angry shout brought Jimmy and Jeannine running.

"Where's that brother of mine?"

"Paul, what's the matter?"

I pointed. Jimmy's mouth fell open; Jeannine's was set in a thin, grim line.

"How do I get half the frosting now?"

So call me irrational. You have my number.

"Wait, wait, wait a second, love," Jimmy was thinking furiously, I could tell. "Calm down."

I was going to kill my brother. I know, he's always been a big boy, and there was certainly a lot of cake – carrot cake – but still. I mean, even if I didn't want a birthday, or a party, or any of that, there was the matter of my frosting.

"Paul, it'll be fine," Jimmy was placating. "Look. All I have to do is draw one single, straight line. Just one straight line, see? And then you'll have exactly half of the frosting."

I was being silly, of course.

For one thing, Jimmy was absolutely right. I could still have exactly half of the remaining frosting. I love having a dork like me for a boyfriend. All he had to do was cut along that one single straight line, and the cake – and the frosting – would be cut precisely in half.

But more importantly, I needed to share. I had Jimmy, and he was enough.

Math Question: What was the single straight line that cut the remaining cake exactly in half? How did Jimmy know where to draw that line?