Room_ A Novel - Emma Donoghue [8]
Waiting for my cake takes hours and hours, we breathe in the lovely air. Then when it’s cooling we make stuff called icing but not cold like ice, it’s sugar melted with water. Ma spreads it all over the cake. “Now you can put on the chocolates while I’m washing up.”
“But there aren’t any.”
“Aha,” she says, holding up the little bag and shaking it shickety shick, “I saved a few from Sunday treat three weeks ago.”
“You sneaky Ma. Where?”
She zips her mouth shut. “What if I need a hiding place another time?”
“Tell me!”
Ma’s not smiling anymore. “Shouting hurts my ears.”
“Tell me the hidey place.”
“Jack—”
“I don’t like there to be hidey places.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“Zombies.”
“Ah.”
“Or ogres or vampires—”
She opens Cabinet and takes out the box of rice. She points in the dark hole. “It was just in with the rice that I hid them. OK?”
“OK.”
“Nothing scary would fit in here. You can check anytime.”
There’s five chocolates in the bag, pink, blue, green, and two reds. Some of the color comes off on my fingers when I’m putting them on, I get icing on me and suck it every bit.
Then it’s time for the candles but there aren’t any.
“You’re shouting again,” says Ma, covering her ears.
“But you said a birthday cake, it’s not a birthday cake if there’s no five candles on fire.”
She puffs her breath. “I should have explained better. That’s what the five chocolates say, they say you’re five.”
“I don’t want this cake.” I hate it when Ma waits all quiet. “Stinky cake.”
“Calm down, Jack.”
“You should have asked for candles for Sundaytreat.”
“Well, last week we needed painkillers.”
“I didn’t need any, just you,” I shout.
Ma looks at me like I have a new face she’s never seen. Then she says, “Anyway, remember, we have to choose things he can get easily.”
“But he can get anything.”
“Well, yeah,” she says, “if he went to the trouble—”
“Why he went to trouble?”
“I just mean, he might have to go to two or three stores, and that would make him cranky. And what if he didn’t find the impossible thing, then we probably wouldn’t get Sunday treat at all.”
“But Ma.” I laugh. “He doesn’t go in stores. Stores are in TV.”
She’s chewing her lip. Then she looks at the cake. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry, I thought the chocolates would do instead.”
“Silly Ma.”
“Dumbo.” She slaps her head.
“Numbskull,” I say, but not in a nasty way. “Next week when I’ll be six you better get candles.”
“Next year,” says Ma, “you mean next year.” Her eyes are shut. They always do that sometimes and she doesn’t say anything for a minute. When I was small I thought her battery was used up like happened to Watch one time, we had to ask a new battery for him for Sundaytreat.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” she says, opening her eyes.
She cuts me a humongous piece and I swipe all the five onto mine when she’s not looking, the two reds, the pink, the green, the blue, and she says, “Oh, no, another one’s been swiped, how did that happen?”
“You’ll never find it now, ha ha ha,” I say like Swiper when he swipes a thing from Dora. I pick up one of the reds and zoom it in Ma’s mouth, she moves it to her front teeth that are less rotted and she nibbles it smiling.
“Look,” I show her, “there’s holes in my cake where the chocolates were till just now.”
“Like craters,” she says. She puts her fingertop in one.
“What’s craters?”
“Holes where something happened. Like a volcano or an explosion or something.”
I put the green chocolate back in its crater and do ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, boom. It flies up into Outer Space and around into my mouth. My birthday cake is the best thing I ever ate.
Ma isn’t hungry for any right now. Skylight’s sucking all the light