Cardinal Toast

The PTA meeting ended with the buzz of considerate laughter and the touching of each other’s arms. As they were leaving the room, Edna walked briskly up to Gretta, the PTA president, and thanked her for all of her hard work and commitment to the lives of the school children, while handing Gretta a freshly baked loaf of bread. Gretta accepted said loaf in great thanks, and excitedly walked to her economy-class vehicle.

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Gretta walked into her home. The clear smell of ‘new’ filled the entryway. “Dave? Dave?!” she demanded. As she meandered into the kitchen, she spotted her husband, Dave, sitting at the island bar. “David! Look what Edna just gave us,” she said, holding the bread at eye level.

“Awesome,” was Dave’s response.

“I’m going to make some toast!” Gretta headed to the toaster oven by the sink, and plopped in two slices, cut with delicate exactness. The reheated bread sent a warm vapor of butter and memories into the cabinets, as it was wafted throughout the house by the ventilation system. An eager Gretta jumped with anticipation once the bread popped out of the toaster. Two heavenly slices were set on a paper towel, flattened by the counter surface. Butter was spread onto the dry, sweaty bread and melted crisply upon contact.

“Mmmmm!” Gretta practically screamed through closed lips. “This is delicious! How much better can bread taste than this?” She took another bite, and chewed in delight, then swallowed. “It can’t. Except maybe with cinnamon!” With a careless splash of cinnamon-in-a-hurry, Gretta ascended her own expectation.

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Edna waited a whole three days to see Gretta and ask how the bread turned out, in person, because compliments mean nothing except when delivered in person. Gretta, however, was out of town for this particular meeting, so Edna had to wait yet another four days and approach Gretta in a repeated assembly of the week before.

The day came six hours too soon, but the time was made up by a chance meeting between Edna and Gretta at the local organic foods store.

“By the way,” Edna sneaked into the conversation, “how did the bread turn out? I only made a few loaves to give to certain members of the PTA and faculty, you understand.”

“Oh, of course!” replied Gretta, “Oh, Edna, it was delicious. By far the best bread I’ve had in a while. And, my favorite part about it was it made incredible toast.”

“Ah, I was ho--” Edna paused in thought, “Wait, did you say ‘toast’?”

“Oh, yeah. I can’t even...it was just perfect. It was crispy on the top and bottom, but the middle melted right into my mouth, especially after the butter soaked into it.” Gretta smiled into Edna’s eyes.

“Yes. Yes. Well,” Edna coughed negative words back into her throat, “I have to be going so I can be ready for tonight.”

“Oh, okay!” Gretta pushed her cart two steps askew from Edna, “Alright, I’ll see you tonight.”

By the time she met again with the outdoor air, the sun and sky were looking at Edna with concern. And for good reason: she had already begun planning a subtle retaliation against the coarse, inconsiderate words of Gretta. “Toast...” She let the word burn into her resentment.

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“Toast! Can you believe it, Carl?” Edna’s husband stood, leaning over the kitchen counter reading the paper.

“I can believe it. I can’t believe you’re offended, though.”

“Toast, Carl! It’s a cardinal sin to mention toast to a baker! It’s like saying, ‘I don’t trust that you’re competent enough to give out baked bread, so I’m going to speed-bake it, in case you suck at everything.’”

“I don’t think--”

“Stop.” Edna’s eyes suddenly fixed onto the slate of the fireplace, “She’ll know. She’ll be told by my actions against her. That’s how I’ll do it. That’s the key," Edna straightened her posture, holding her neck high, with shadows sitting on her eyelids like jittering demons. "She won’t know that she’s a horrible person until I make her know she’s a horrible person.” Her face began to crackle, and her teeth cut each breath cleanly into the air.

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That night, before the meeting, Edna lay staring up severely on her bedsheets, opening the ceiling with visions of a disheartened Gretta on both knees, pleading for Edna to keep her alive, quickened by the fear that her wrongdoing would eat away at the convicted, from the inside.

The clock nervously turned to an acceptable time to leave. With a jolt, and precise, finely-tuned movements, Edna grabbed her coat, then surgically flowed her car through the street traffic, and into the first parking spot she could find.

The impact of the steps she took toward the door of the school spiritually shattered the glass doors, and they opened eagerly out of fear once Edna’s fingers grasped the helpless handles.

It was a massacre when she walked into the room; she could sense that each person she connected eyes with immediately lost their will to live. Then, as Edna sat cross-legged at the center of attention, Gretta had the nerve to walk into the room on her feet.

“Hello everyone!" Gretta chimed, as she set her bags on the table and took a seat. She mocked Edna by wiping crumbs away from her stomach, since her hands were no longer employed after the bags were settled. "We’d like to start this meeting by thanking Edna for all of her devotion and hard work this past couple of weeks,” Gretta looked up and winked to Edna with such charm, there was almost a palpable vapor of good intent. Yet, a cackle escaped into Edna’s skull, and released itself out of a smirk.

“Yes!” said an inconsequential knave, “That bread was marvelous! My favorite thing about it is the toast it made."