Chapter 8 Vanilla Cupcake Candle
853 Words
Mommy still didn't seem to hear me. Eyes closed, sleeping.
My tears kept flowing, down to my mouth, salty.
Mommy must be mad at me. That's why she won't answer.
A draft came in and I sneezed, cutting off my crying.
I turned — the bedroom window was still open.
I got upset. Mommy was already pale and sick. If the wind blew in, she'd get worse.
I had to take care of Mommy. I had to take care of myself.
I yanked the pants on, sort of, braced myself against the wall, and limped over to shut the window, then shut the bedroom door.
Suddenly the room was still, no more wind moaning through.
I turned to go lie down next to Mommy.
But my stomach growled. I was so hungry.
I went back to searching under the bed.
Even a stale bagel would do. I was starving, my back against my stomach.
Under the bed — no more bagels.
I lay flat on the floor, feeling around. In the corner against the wall, I found a stub of a burned-down candle.
I remembered. It was a Yankee Candle Mommy used to light on the nightstand. Vanilla Cupcake scent.
When Daddy wouldn't come home, Mommy said she couldn't sleep at night.
She'd light the candle and the room smelled sweet. It calmed her down, helped her sleep.
I held the candle stub under my nose and sniffed.
So good. So sweet!
It smelled like oranges. And like a vanilla cupcake, fresh from the bakery!
Then a thought popped into my head — Mommy had never said candles couldn't be eaten.
This candle smelled sweet and delicious. It had to be good to eat!
I licked my lips, picked up the candle stub, and bit into it like an apple.
No weird taste. It was chewy and soft.
Like eating a vanilla cupcake!
The candle was so much better than the stale bagel.
I hoped that when Mommy woke up and saw I was sick, she wouldn't make me eat bagels anymore.
Thinking that, I got sad again.
Because Mommy still wasn't awake.
Maybe she was hungry too...
Gurgle. Gurgle.
My stomach started up again, cramping.
I pressed my little hand against it. Something wanted to come out.
"Mommy, Emma's tummy hurts. Emma needs the potty..."
I hobbled toward the bathroom, looking for my little potty, but the few steps that used to take nothing now felt like miles.
My leg hurt. My stomach hurt. Everything hurt.
I wasn't going to make it —
I heard a soft, runny sound under me. My underwear got hot and sticky.
My face burned red. My whole body shook.
Mommy loved being clean. She mopped the floor every day until it shined.
But now I'd made myself dirty, and the floor too.
What do I do?
A weird smell drifted through the room. From Mommy on the bed. Or maybe from me.
It had to be from my diarrhea. I'd stunk up the whole room.
I felt guilty, afraid Mommy would smell it.
I wanted to hide. I wanted to be clean Emma, Mommy's good girl.
I sniffled, braced against the wall, and limped out of the room.
The world spun. My legs gave out and I pitched forward.
I hit the hard floor — but I didn't feel any pain.
Just dizzy. Like I could fall asleep any second.
It had to be because I hadn't eaten in so long. I was so weak, I couldn't even walk.
I gritted my teeth, braced my arms, and crawled forward.
I couldn't let Mommy smell it. I couldn't let her see Emma all smelly.
One step. Two steps...
The front door was right there in front of me, but I couldn't reach it.
I used every last ounce of strength and finally made it outside.
The big window in the foyer was wide open, and the night wind made me shiver.
Into the cold wind, I kept crawling toward the veranda.
Finally, I made it to the veranda edge.
The weird smell was gone from the air.
I let out a breath, looked up at the sky over the veranda.
The big oak tree rustled its leaves. Gold stars flickered in the night sky, half-hidden, then visible again.
They blinked, bright and glittery.
So pretty.
"Mommy, Emma's gonna sleep here a minute... then... then she'll go change into clean clothes... and come take care of you..."
I didn't have the strength to talk anymore. My eyelids got heavier and heavier.
Mommy said, when you feel bad...
Just go to sleep, and you'll feel stronger.
I sang myself a lullaby.
Before, Mommy always sang me to sleep.
This time, I sang to myself.
"Lullaby, and good night, in the sky stars are bright..."
"Emma..."
In the blur, I thought I heard Mommy's voice.
I opened my eyes slow, and I saw Mommy, ringed in a soft glow, walking toward me.
She was carrying a pretty, clean princess dress in one hand. And in the other, a warm cinnamon roll, fresh from the oven.
Yay. Mommy was finally awake.
- Writer
