No Cake on his Birthday
"Mom? Are you home?"
Gary Smith shut the crumbling door behind him, pulling the shade down over the broken window beside it. Shattered glass surrounded the entire entrance to the townhouse. He gazed at the walls for a moment and found them stained with a nasty, rust-colored substance. Cockroaches scattered away from the sounds of Gary's school loafer clad footsteps.
The house was a mess.
Navigating through the endless clutter of half-empty pizza boxes, crushed beer cans, and stomped-on cigarette butts that his mother and a one night lover had most likely enjoyed on a not-so-recent night, Gary found himself standing in the doorway to his mother's bedroom. She stood like a scarecrow in the center of her queen-sized bed, her back to him as she stared out the dirty window. Sunlight blazed through the clouded glass, blinding Gary momentarily.
Mrs. Smith had thrown all the sheets, pillows, and the comforter on the floor around the bed, leaving the bare mattress underneath her muddy feet. Blades of dying grass clung to her toes and calves, she'd obviously been wandering around the forest in the southern part of New Coventry by herself again. She wore a white dress that had probably been pretty at one point, but was now coated in grass and oil stains.
Gary opened his mouth to speak to her once again, but shut it almost instantly. He rested against the wall, wincing as he heard the crunch of an unfortunate insect he'd no doubt killed on accident. How did his mother end up like this? How did he end up like this? And where the hell was his father? All he knew from his bastard of a grandfather was that Mr. Smith Jr. had taken the money from his trust fund and left a very pregnant Mrs. Smith behind.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
"Is that mein kostbaren kleinen Sohn[1]?!" she cried, hazel eyes widening in crazed delight.
He straightened against the wall when his mother's head suddenly whipped around, her long, greasy, dark brown hair flying around her like a flying saucer. Out of her bony hand flew a piece of glass, undoubtedly from the smashed window Gary had been greeted with, and struck Gary on his right eye. He howled in pain as his hands soared to his eye, straining to stop the sudden and inevitable bleeding. He shuddered as he felt the warm blood flow through his fingers, frantically looking around for something to stop the blood loss.
He snatched one of the bed sheets, clutching it over his eye in attempt to neutralize the wound.
"STOP!" Mrs. Smith screeched, glowering at her son.
"STOP, STOP, STOP!" she jumped on the bed with each word, each rebound bringing her mere centimeters from smashing her head on the ceiling.
Obediently, Gary released the bed sheet and allowed it to fall to the filthy floor. He stood gawking at his mother, whining and screaming as if she were a four year old child, blood dripping down his face and onto his uniform. He already didn't have the money to buy new school supplies this year, how he'd purchase a new uniform he had no idea.
"You've dirtied the sheets!" Mrs. Smith shrieked, getting down onto her knees and digging her untrimmed fingernails into the mattress, "And I only just washed it!"
"Es tut mir leid[2]," Gary whispered, anxious to leave and tend to his eye. He ogled the blood-stained glass that lay just a few feet from him, wondering what on earth had possessed the woman into grabbing it and carrying it around as if it were a safety blanket.
Mrs. Smith smiled, the vacant insanity in her eyes promptly replaced by pure joy and enthusiasm. "My little boy! Mein Jungen[3] Gary! Here! On his sixteenth birthday with his mother! Come son, let us dance!"
She reached her bony hands out to him, fingers wiggling in anticipation. Gary studied his bloodied hands, unsure, but he knew his mother's patience would wear thin soon enough. Sighing, he took her hands and allowed himself to be pulled up onto the mattress with her, where the two began jumping in circles, engulfed in his mother's madness.
"Alles Gute zum Geburtstag[4]!" Mrs. Smith wailed, shutting her eyes and cackling with happiness. "Kerstin und Gary on Gary's birthday!"
Gary shut his eyes, waiting for it to finish. He should have known better than to visit his mother on his birthday.
Suddenly, the woman stopped, eyes filling with childlike surprise. "I don't have a cake for you, mein Jungen…" she mumbled, tears arising. "No cake on his birthday!" she screamed, turning to her left as if there were someone standing there that she was speaking to.
"It's okay," Gary said, trying to calm her, "I don't need a cake."
"Nonsense!" she roared, still facing the invisible being, "I told Harold to get the cake! Where is the cake! Cake!"
She let go of Gary's hands and pointed to a cockroach roaming near one of the corners of the window beside her bed.
"There you are, Harold!" she squawked, jumping on the bed over and over in frustration, "I told you to get the cake! For Gary! On his birthday! Where is it?! WHERE IS IT?! WHEREISITWHEREISITWHEREISITWHEREIS—"
"It's alright, Mutter," Gary interrupted, taking her wrists and yanking her to face him, "I can get the cake. I'll be back in an hour, alright?"
She took in various deep breaths, glaring at Gary, and for a moment he thought she was going to strike him. But then, at the last minute, she beamed at him cheerily.
"Ja! Und then we can eat cake and you can turn sixteen! Go! While I discipline Harold!"
Gary nodded, playing along as he jumped off of the bed and did his best to pace himself as he walked to the front door, trying to keep his desperation to get out a secret. He let out a sigh of relief as he finally exited the unclean townhouse and shut the door behind him.
Pulling off his already ruined sweatervest, he held it against his eye tightly as he made his way back to the school.
He wouldn't be visiting her in a while, he decided.
Translations
[1] - My precious little son
[2] - I'm sorry
[3] - My boy
[4] - Happy birthday
