April Exclusive - "Candles" - Part 2 🎂👩‍👦

From an incredible fifty yards out, Kyle kicks the soccer ball, and it screams into the net. The crowd goes wild!

The crowd in Kyle’s head, obviously. Just for pretend. Whether he’s tapping the ball with side of his foot, or punting it with his toe, he is Ronaldo at Inter Milan, Michael Ballack at Bayern Munich. And when he attempts to curl a free kick into the waiting net, he is David Beckham at Manchester United.

When he starts high school, Kyle is determined to make the team. And then the crowd will be real.

Go Cardinals! Cardinals soar!

But it will be a while before high school. Because Kyle is only in 5th grade.

Today, he will have to be content with some after-school soccer practice in the back yard. And he will have to be careful; bizarrely, there are more plants than he remembers. Don’t the trees seem bigger, the bushes...bushier? It feels like a whole different garden. But that’s a silly idea. What Mom calls ‘birthday-itis’, when he tells her about it.

He puts the strangeness of the yard out of his  mind; he can ask Chris and Abbie about it when the come over later.

He wipes at his face with grass-stained fingers. Mom has been extra nice to him today, on account of his birthday. Normally she would be tapping at the window, telling to get inside and change out of his school uniform.

But not today. Special treatment for the 10-year-old. So he remains in his white polo shirt and khaki shorts.

“Because today’s your special day!” Mom said, holding his face in her hands and beaming at him. “My special boy!”

Kyle takes aim and kicks the ball, enjoys how it sails between the posts and strains against the back net. Does his mother treat him like a baby sometimes? Is she just a little embarrassing?

Sometimes. Maybe a little. But that’s okay on birthdays, a little indulgence. She’s promised him a cake, vanilla, his favorite, bought from A Piece of Cake on Selby Ave.  When Mom had asked he for a birthday theme, he told her that he wanted a ninja theme, because that actually sounds awesome, but she probably won’t do it.

Ninjas sound violent. And Kyle is sensitive.

Kyle produces a growling sound, deep in his throat. He’s not sensitive! Just because he had nightmares after finishing Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Doesn’t make him sensitive. Who wouldn’t have bad dreams, thinking about a man with two faces? Who wouldn’t maybe even wet the bed?

He walks to the net and retrieves the ball, pressing it between his palms.

What kind of birthday party do famous soccer players have? Probably in some cool club, with music and lights, and they can drink what they want and eat what they want, and there’s no school in the morning, because they...play...soccer...all the time!

What an idea. What a life. On one level, Kyle knows that he’s always wanted to be a professional soccer player, but on the other, he’s not sure he can remember when he last felt so passionate, so energetic about...well, anything.

Mom says that he can be anything he wants to be, if he works hard, if he gets good grades. But Kyle has a suspicion that soccer players don’t need grades, they just need good feet.

He looks, sees Mom tapping on the window.

Snack? She mouths, pointing at her mouth.

Kyle nods, puts the ball on the ground and gives it one more kick, watches it sail past the posts and into Mom’s coneflowers. The crowd does not go wild. He shrugs; even the best miss sometimes. And then he goes inside.

“Look at you,” Mom says, “with your muddy knees! You need a bath!”

For a moment, Kyle is sure his mother is about to force him into the tub. But that won’t happen. Kyle has been taking showers for a while now, because he’s not a little kid anymore.

He smiles at Mom. “Can I have a Coke?” he asks. “I’m real thirsty.”

“Water would be better,” Mom counters. And that must be the end of the discussion, because she fetches a glass from the cupboard and fills it from the kitchen faucet.

When Kyle has taken a quenching drink, Mom says, “Come through and see your decorations. We’re ready for your party!”

Kyle shrugs. “It’s not a party, Mom. Just Chris and Abbie.”

Mom laughs, takes her son’s hand. “Come on.”

When they reach the living room, Kyle sees that his mother is correct after all. He might only have invited two guests, his very best friends since Kindergarten, but they are definitely set up for a party.

As well as the decorations, the walls are painted a different color than Kyle remembers. A creamy white, not the yellow from before. Did Mom really paint the living room while Kyle was at school? That’s impossible, but the walls surely used to be yellow. Kyle remembers the shade, because it was called ‘soft-boiled’ which he found hilarious.

There is a banner above the mantel – Happy Birthday Kyle! - and streamers hanging from the ceiling fan. There are blue, pink and yellow balloons scattered around the room, making Kyle think of soccer again, making his feet itch to kick them.

“What do you think?” Mom asks. She sounds almost breathless, beaming at him.

I think...it looks like a little kid party, Kyle doesn’t say.

“Cool,” says Kyle. “Thanks, Mom.” And he smiles as she hugs him.

But he is dismayed because that’s exactly what it looks like. Thank goodness, it’s just Chris and Abbie coming. They’ll understand, they know what Kyle’s mom is like.

“You think we have enough food?” asks Mom, but she must be kidding, because they table looks laden with chips, popcorn, cheese and crackers.

The food looks good at least. Finger food, nothing wrong with that. No ninjas, of course. But then he notices the plates and cups, all sharing a similar design. He picks up a cup and peers at it; on the sides are three smiling dogs with names underneath; Zuma, Rubble, and Marshall.

He looks at the plates; the same dogs are on them as well.

He turns to his mother. “What’s with all the dogs?

It’s his mother’s turn to look quizzical. “Don’t you know, honey? Don’t you know who they are?” She laughs. “They’re famous!”

Kyle shrugs. All he knows is that they look more than a little babyish.

“But they’re the Paw Patrol, sweetie, they...” Mom trails off, taps her chin with a finger. “Honey, what year is it?”

Kyle snorts. “Huh?”

“What year is it, honey?” asks Mom again. And she looks theatrically thoughtful. “You’re turning ten, so it must be...”

Kyle sighs. “Mom. It’s 2002.”

Mom nods slowly. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, although she still looks thoughtful. Mom looks...old.

“I like dogs, I guess,” says Kyle, looking to move on.

Mom shakes her head. “No, you see...” And then her face brightens. “Look at your cake! The puppies are on the cake as well!”

Kyle does as he’s told, but it’s not the decorations that catch his attention.

It’s the candle.

“Hey,” Kyle says slowly, drawing out the word. Because this isn’t a disaster yet, it’s just confusing. “There’s only one candle, and it’s not even right.” And he laughs, because actually, this is funny, this is Mom having a forgetful moment. “Where’s the one and zero?”

Mom looks rueful. “Well, honey, I didn’t have time to bake you a cake, so I bought one for the store, and...”

“Mom.” Kyle points at the cake. “I can’t just have a ‘3’ candle on my cake. That’s like I’m three!” He giggles, because this is still just funny.

Mom says, “I know, honey, but I told the lady at the store, which cake I should buy, and she asked about the birthday boy and she asked if you liked puppy dogs, and well, I told her how much you like Blue’s Clues, and she showed me the cake with all those the puppy dogs, and it looked perfect.” She puts her hands on Kyle’s shoulders. “She said all boys love Paw Patrol, so I thought you would too. So I got the decorations to match.”

Kyle feels his face drain of color.  “Mom, why’d you tell her about Blue’s Clues?” He points furiously at the cake. “..the puppy dogs...the dumb dogs are for dumb babies!”

Now it’s not funny. Now, it’s a hot mess.

Mom folds her arms. “Now, honey, you don’t know, maybe Paw Patrol is for big boys. She looks towards the TV, which Kyle remembers as a boxy thing in the corner but is now a sleek flatscreen attached to the wall. When did Mom buy a fancy new TV? “How about we sit down and watch it, maybe you’ll like-”

“Mom!” Kyle forgets about the TV and points furiously at the cake. “The candle’s a ‘3’. It’s for a three-year-old birthday.” He shakes his head, amazed at how slow his mother’s being. “I’m ten, Mom. I’m way too old for this.”

His mother sighs. “Well, I’m sorry, I got it wrong. I was just trying to give you a happy birthday.”

Kyle groans. “I know. But I-”

She gives a little shrug. “And cake’s cake, honey. I bet it still tastes good, right?” She smiles at him. “Want to try a slice now? You could see if it’s good, before your friends get here.”

Kyle’s mouth drops open. Chris and Abbie. The situation is bad enough, but what about his friends? What on earth will they make of this?

His mouth feels dry. “When...when are they getting here?”

Mom glances at the clock. “Oh, they should be here any minute, honey.”

Kyle looks around the room, feeling frantic. “We have to hide all the...all the puppy dog stuff. And the cake. And the dumb candle!”

“But why-”

“They’ll laugh at me, Mom! They’ll call me a big baby!” Kyle’s voice is reduced to a little boy’s whine. “Mo-om. They already think you baby me, and now they’ll...”

Mom looks at him sadly, and in this moment, Kyle sees how old his other looks. Like she’s aged twenty years overnight. What happened to her? “You’ll be embarrassed,” she says. “You think I’ll embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Kyle’s shoulders drop. “Please, Mom. Just, let’s put the puppy dog stuff away. It’s for really little kids, and I’m in fifth grade. Please.”

Mom has that thoughtful expression, and then she smiles. “I have an idea. We have all these decorations, and the cake as well. How about you just pretend that you’re turning three?”

Kyle feels ridiculous tears prick his eyes. “No, Mom, I don’t want to, and besides, they know I’m ten! I’m a big kid!

But it’s as though Mom doesn't even hear him. “And then no one will laugh at any of this, because like you say, three-year-olds are supposed to like Paw Patrol, right? The bakery lady said that little boys love that show.” She rubs her hands together. “It’s perfect!”

Kyle stares at his mother. And for the first time, he wonders if his mother isn’t just a little strange and old-looking. Maybe she’s crazy.

“Mom,” he says slowly. “I’m...Chris and Abbie, we’re all in 5th grade. They know I’m turning ten.”

Mom exhales. “I know, I know, and you’re such a big boy.” She rolls her eyes. “I think the real issue is that you didn’t have a snack and now you’re getting cranky.”

“I’m not cranky,” Kyle replies, making a supreme effort to keep the frustration from his voice.

Mom takes something from the pocket of her blouse. “Have a snack. You always get cranky after school, they have lunch so early.”

“I don’t want it, Mom, I want you to get rid of all the-”

“What’s your pledge?” Mom asks abruptly.

“What?”

“You’re school pledge, honey. If you’re such a big boy, surely you can tell me your pledge.”

Kyle sighs. “Cardinals soar.” He makes a flapping motion with his hands, and then recites, “We are safe, on task, have a positive attitude and are respectful.”

Mom nods. “Exactly.” She looks down at him, peeling the foil from the chocolate coin. “Are you safe now? Are you safe in this house?”

Kyle looks down at his feet. “Uh-huh.”

“So, show me that positive attitude, show me how respectful you are.”

Kyle looks back up at his mother. “How?”

“By doing what your mother tells you.” Mom puts the candy by his mouth, waiting for him to open up like a baby bird.

Kyle accepts the coin. He’ll eat the stupid thing, and then he’ll explain to Mom just why her idea is crazy. He can’t just pretend he’s three, he’s much too big. Besides, he doesn’t want to! He’s in 5th grade, he’s not a dumb baby obsessed with puppy dogs.

“There,” Mom says, satisfaction all over her face.

Kyle chomps on the coin, his eyes widening at the sweetness, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, and then he’s gone again.

To be continued...