Fighting for the Fairytale

Cole

Stuffy nose, headache, body aches.

Nora hadn't been kidding.

I called Devin that morning to tell him that I wasn't going to come in. He seemed more than happy about my not being there. I don't know what it was about the fearful leader of the interns, but he didn't like me very much. I was trying not to take it personally. 

Which with a headache the size of the state of Texas, that wasn't too difficult to do.

So tired.

Rolling to my other side, I fluffed my pillow, leaving my arms underneath to stretch those sore neck muscles that felt like they had lifted more than they had ever been asked to lift before. 

A slight buzzing reached my ears. I adjusted my head on the pillow, seeing if that would help, but the noise wasn't going away. 

Sitting up, I looked around the bedroom with slightly closed eyes. Nothing was out of place and no one else was around. 

Nora had left for work a few hours ago, leaving me to face the day alone in my bed. 

Although to be fair, she did leave me a glass of water, some cold tablets, and a note that read: "Take a hot shower" with a winky face. 

I loved when Nora showed her fun, sassy side to me. Not only was it hot as hell, but it also made me feel like I was doing something right. Something good. For once.

The buzzing noise stopped as I searched the room with my eyes, so I laid back down, getting comfortable on my pillow. 

VRPPPPP. 

And it's back.

It's probably your phone, dingbat. 

I blindly reached for my phone. Grabbing it off the nightstand, the device vibrating in my hand.

What the hell? 

The screen flashed out to a notification from a call ending. I unlocked my phone; there were three missed calls and multiple text notifications. 

All from my mother.

Cole, come home.

Something's happened! Come home ASAP.

Why aren't you answering your phone? I need you to come home.

COLE?!

Shit!

Mind jumping to the worst case scenario, I pushed my body up quickly with a barely suppressed groan. I found a pair of rumpled sweatpants on the floor and riffled through a pile of t-shirts I had not far from it, smelling a couple before realizing that I couldn't smell a damn thing out of my nose anyway. 

Fuck it. 

I tossed a red shirt up over my head and strode to the closet, grabbing the first pair of socks I could find and whipping a sweatshirt off one of the hangers.

What could have happened? 

A list of bad possibilities ran through my head as I descended the steps of the townhome, pocketed my phone, grabbed the keys, and hauled ass out of the garage in my truck.

Was it Dad? Did he hurt Mom? No, if Mom called, she's okay. At least physically. She wouldn't have been able to call otherwise, and she certainly wouldn't be telling me to come to the house.  

I drove quickly to my parents', pulling into the driveway and hopping out of the truck just after turning the key. 

"Mom?" I shouted, or think I shouted since my voice was still a little muffled even to my own ears, as I crashed through the front door. The dining room was set up with two places, a large birthday cake alit with candles between them.

"SURPRISE!" Mom popped out from behind the swinging door leading into the kitchen and clapped her hands. "Happy happy birthday, my beautiful baby boy!" She stumbled over to me, almost falling on her face. 

I reached out to stop her and she clung to me, hugging me so tight. I couldn't breathe, although I couldn't breath out of my nose anyhow because I was sick. 

Had Mom called me over just to celebrate my birthday? 

With a shallow breath through my nose, I gently pried her off me. "Mom?" I looked into her eyes. They were glossy. 

Hell. Here we go again.

I sighed. "Mom, was this your emergency?"

Mom's grin was a little lopsided when she replied, "I wasn't able to cel-celubrate with you on your birfday--"

"Mom," I interrupted, digging deep for the patience I'd used in the past.

It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart. Without saying a word you can light up the dark.

"I told you Nora wasn't feeling well, so we stayed in. I called you and let you know that we would set a date when we'd be able to come over, do you remember that? Were you up all night? Have you slept yet? Maybe we should get you to bed." I gently touched her shoulder. 

Mom flinched away, her expression pinched. "I gave you life, Cole. I just wanted to spend the day with you. Like we used to."

Try as I may I could never explain. What I hear when you don't say a thing.

"Your father doesn't care about this stuff either," Mom sniffed as she swayed over to the dining room table, her back to me. "You know how he is about birfdays."

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me.

Steeling myself against that massive heap of guilt, I crossed the room, touching Mom's shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm not feeling the greatest today. I think I caught what Nora had." 

"I thought you said last week that you were taking today off from work."

There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me.

"No, that was last week." I tried to speak calmly and slowly, but it was difficult. 

A touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall.

"Oh." Mom looked down at the cake. The wax on the candles was dangerously close to the frosting. "Well, if you're sick, I want you to get better."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mom."

"I could make you some soup. You could stay up in your old room?" She looked up at me hopefully.

Yeah, you say it best.

"No, Mom. I have my own house now."

"Right." Mom sighed again. "Guess this whole cake will go to waste."

When you say nothing at all.

"Mom, can I help you get to bed? Please? That can be your birthday present to me." 

"I'm not tired, honey." Mom lurched over to the swinging door, her back hunched. "I'm sorry I bothered you." She disappeared behind the door. 

Glancing up at the ceiling, I pinched my fingers over my nose. 

Why, God? Why is she like this? Why can't you fix her?  Why do I have to be the parent? 

Looking down, I stared at my birthday cake. 

In red frosting, Mom had written Happy Birthday, Cole! The end of day was slightly smudged where Mom's hand must have dragged through the frosting. She was left handed. 

On the small circular cake, she had managed to stick and light 24 candles of various colors and heights. She probably had to search the entire house to find the amount of candles she needed. Some of the flames were quite close to the cake, the wax already dripped onto the frosting. It was a mess. 

Ten-year old-me would have loved this cake. Would have loved that Mom remembered that I had been born this month instead of January or May. 

But I wasn't 10 anymore. 

"Happy birthday to me," I whispered and blew out the candles.