White Eskimo ~ Harry Styles

Then

February 1st, 2002

 

Today I am eight. Well, actually I am eight and two hours since two hours ago on the first of February, 1994, I was born. I’ve been waiting for this day for three hundred and sixty four days, since I started counting down to this event the day after my seventh birthday. I’m so happy that today I am finally eight! Now I can go on that ride in the country fair and now I don’t have to keep explaining to people that I’m seven and three quarters, not seven. Normally I would have school since it’s a Friday but the teachers decided to have a service day. Although I’m happy, I’m sad. Today I will see my father again. I love my dad but things haven’t been the same since mum and dad told Gemma and I that they were breaking up a year ago. Lately dad has been going away from home for a few days to “get some space.” I’m nervous because I’m not sure how mum will cope – she was so sad the night before they told us that they were going to split. She couldn’t stop crying and it scared me. Gemma took me away from my mum’s room and into hers and played with me until dinner. I kept asking Gemma why mum was so upset but she wouldn’t tell me. She would just look into my eyes, her lips pressed in a thin line.

I don’t know what that means.

Someone knocks on my door. I’m in my bed still and from the orange clock on my bedside table I can tell that I’ve slept in. I haven’t actually slept in. I’m already dressed. I’ve just stayed in my room because two years ago I was so excited for my birthday that I accidentally saw mum and dad and Gemma setting up a party for me; it was meant to be a surprise party. Since then I always stay in my room until mum comes to get me. The door swings open and my mum pops her head in, a contagious smile on her face. I bound out of bed and give her a quick hug. She leans down to kiss me but I jerk away.

“Eww mum. You’re not meant to do that anymore, I’m a big boy.” I wriggle out of her grip as she laughs.

“Alright Harold. Yes, you are a big boy now.” Mum tucks a strand of her brown hair behind her ears.

I am literally bouncing up and down at the top of the stairs before I start to descend. Mum yells out not to jump on the steps but I don’t listen. I’m too excited. I bound down the staircase and see Gemma at the table, eating breakfast. I pull out my chair, screeching it across the floor. Normally Gemma and I tease each other by sitting in each other’s seats but today Gemma has let me sit in my favourite spot.

“Mmm,” I mumble as the scent of my breakfast tickles my nostrils. “That smells good.”

Mum comes down the stairs and sits opposite us. “I’m glad you like it Haz.” She smiles and I smile back, the joy of my birthday lifting the mood.

I lift my fork and grab a pancake, plopping it onto my plate. I reach for the maple syrup, cautious as to whether mum will stop me or not. She doesn’t like how much syrup I put on but today she doesn’t warn me. Using this to my advantage, I put enough maple syrup on to fill a cup. Out of the corner of my eye I see mum flinch and Gemma smother a chuckle. I cut some of my pancake and plonk it in my mouth, my tastebuds exploding. It’s delicious! My mum is an excellent cook – someday I hope I can be as good as her. Dad was never that great at cooking…

I finish the rest of my pancake and fidget in my seat. I’ve always loved birthdays but I’ve never liked waiting. Gemma’s more patient than I am but I don’t know how she can stand waiting for exciting things like this! If someone told me I had to be patient for a week, I wouldn’t survive the first day!

Mum interrupts my thoughts as she tugs on my hand. “You can go to the park for a bit whilst I grab some last minute things before the party. Sound good?”