The Birthday Candles

Birthdays in the Lynde family had always been an occasion.

It wasn't because of parties thrown with much grand and splendor or because of inexpensive gifts that looked too heavy in the hands of children or because of rooms full of people in all kinds of color and glitter.

No, it was because, on such a day, warmth glowed in the smiles of the little family, and one glance at them and you would know that something was different, something was special. They knew just the way to celebrate each other's presence in their lives, so that even those who didn't really know them felt a part of their happiness. But not this year. Not this birthday.

Because last summer, when Anne had fallen sick and not recovered, her parents took her to see a doctor. Sue, her seven year old sister, hadn't thought much about it on the car ride to the hospital. Or even when her parents had asked her to leave them alone with the doctor and go greet the fish in the tank outside. 

But that night as she had crept downstairs to get a glass of water, she saw her mother buried in her father's arms, shaking uncontrollably. Of course, she had panicked, and the glass of water had slipped from her hands with a loud crash that echoed throughout out the still house, silencing all other cries and sobs. 

That was the night she found out that her little sister had leukemia.

Leukemia. It was a big word. One that she had to repeat a couple of times before she got it right. At seven, she did not understand what it really meant. And she did not care. All she knew was that her little sister was sick. And that made her parents very very sad.

Anne was only two years younger than her, so it took her an effort to be gentler to her, especially since she was still the same kind of annoying as always. She still loved to draw in every one of her school copies, she still loved to sneak salt into her milk every other morning and she still loved to fight with her over every single thing every single day of her life.

It was hard for Sue to understand how she could be sick. Yes, they tended to visit the hospital with her more than often, and she would sometimes spend entire days in bed and she wouldn't be allowed inside. But then she would wake up and she would be same old annoying Anne. Everything would be the same.

But nothing was.

She realized this as she watched her mother shout at the decorator for arranging the flowers all wrong for the third time. Her mother looked bright and beautiful in her peach dress, surrounded by an assortment of wild violet flowers. She wanted to look at her and believe that this was alright. 

But it was her voice. She remembered when she was younger, this same voice used to lull her to sleep and quieten the never ending stream of words always coming from Anne. But now, it was shrill and loud and....all wrong. 

She had followed her voice around the house warily for the last two days, and watched as she shouted at people for no reason and dropped china in her haste, breaking plates and cups that had once been considered as heirloom. Sometimes she wouldn't even bother to pick up the pieces, she would stare at the mess for a long time and just walk away, as if she was too tired to bend down to do the work and the tiny shards of glass just weren't interesting enough.

Her father caught her trying to clean up once, and she asked him what was wrong with her.

"She is just stressed," he said, "She has a lot on her shoulders with the party."

She didn't believe it and she knew that he didn't believe it either.

So she tried to stay out of her way and and made sure Anne did the same. Her sister was of course, thrilled to have such a grand party in her honor. She would not stop talking about how many people from school were coming over that day. 

Sue was sure that it was a big matter. They had never had so many people over before. It had always been just them and Grandpa and Grandma and sometimes a few friends. It had been small and beautiful.

But this time was different. This time Anne was sick, she reminded herself. So she made herself listen to her tiny voice as she guessed all the gifts she was getting this evening.

"What about you?" she asked suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"It's my birthday," Anne said with a pout. "What are you getting me?"

Sue smiled. "I am going to make you a delicious cup of hot chocolate. I know how much you love it."

And she did exactly that. But she also made sure to empty half the tin of salt in her cup. She had the best time rolling on the floor with giggles as Anne coughed and spit for the rest of the afternoon. People were wrong. Revenge wasn't just sweet. It was delicious.

The guests started arriving in the evening and Sue was given the duty to invite them inside. It was not a fairly interesting job but it was infinitely better than being the target of Anne's glare for the rest of the night and keep waiting for her to take revenge. She looked at the mountain of brightly wrapped boxes and decided that Anne was going to become very wealthy, indeed.

She welcomed another stranger with a smile and added their gift to the top. As the crowd at the front of the house thinned and people moved to the backyard where the party was, she released a breath of relief. Now she could go and attack the fridge where she knew all the chocolates were hidden. She made her way over to the kitchen, but stopped short as she heard voices.

"How could you forget the candles!" Her mother's voice was loud and clear in the silent hallway.

"I don't know. Between the cake and the food and everything else, I completely forgot about the candles! I am sorry, let me get them now," she peered from behind the curtain and watched as her father started to move.

"You can't get them now! All the shops are closed! How is she going to cut the cake without candles?" her voice bellowed.

"Don't worry, I think I have one stashed away in my study somewhere." It was strange. Her father talked as if her mother was not shouting her voice out. Maybe it was pure luck that the party was in the backyard and the music almost erased every voice away.

"What are we going to do with one? She is five years old, she needs five candles!"

Her father didn't say anything, and for a moment everything was unnaturally quiet. And then her mother's voice, in a faint whisper-

"I just....I just don't know how many more I get to put on her cake before all this is over." A sob broke out of her throat and it took her father barely a second to pull her into his arms.

"I know, believe me, I do. But you heard the doctors. She has a chance, she will get better. She isn't going anywhere."

"I know...I just...I don't know how to believe. She is our little girl! She is -"

But Sue didn't stay to hear more. Her heart was still beating loudly in her chest as she passed the backyard where Anne was standing in between a circle of giggling girls, laughing in her ridiculously pink dress. No, her father was right. She wasn't going anywhere.

She slipped out the front door. 

It was late and it was almost winter. Their house stood like the single ball of warmth and light in the otherwise silent street. The world outside felt strangely isolated and distant. 

Her mother was right, the shops would be all closed by now. She hugged herself tight against the cold and trudged her way to the house opposite theirs. She knocked on the first door, holding her breath until a light flicked on and the door opened with a screech. One down. She needed to find three more.

                                                                         xxx

When she ran back to her house, she was breathing hard. 

Laughter drifted through the backyard, and she relaxed a little when she saw the cake still sitting untouched on the center table. Her mother was digging through the cabinet while her father was going through the drawers. She wondered if they had been there searching all this time. 

She ran up to her mother and handed her the four candles.

"Here. Now you have five," she panted.

Her mother looked at her with surprise, "Where did you get those?" Up until then, Sue had almost forgotten what her normal voice sounded like.

"I know Dad had forgotten the candles, so I knocked at a few doors. Most of them are out here, but the maid at Mrs. Jane's had two, so she was a great help. Only, she kept talking and wouldn't let me leave and I got late!"

Her mother kept looking at her like she was seeing her for the first time, and her father just kept standing there too. So she shifted on her feet and waited for her to take the candles, when she suddenly pulled her into her arms.

It took her almost of ten seconds to realize that she was crying and that her father was standing behind her now, his arms pulling them into his wider chest. Her mother kept sobbing silently and that made her take an even longer time to realize that at some point Anne had snuck inside the circle of their father's arms. Her fluffy pink dress scratched at her sides and she was going to point out that a hug is not meant for four people to share, that they were suffocating her with their grasp. But she didn't say anything. She didn't say anything at all.

But of course Anne had to.

"I like this party a lot better."

And her mother mother laughed. Her father smiled. And Sue agreed.

She liked their party a lot better too.