I worked two jobs to give my son a day he’d never forget. His favorite pizzeria, a surprise cake, a warm hug of oregano in the air. But just as the candles were lit, a stranger’s voice cut through the joy—and turned our celebration into something I never saw coming.
I worked the dinner shift at the diner, same as most nights. The smell of fried onions clung to my coat, and the soles of my shoes were worn down from pacing between tables. When my shift ended, I didn’t go home.
I caught the late bus, the one that creaks and groans all the way out to the edge of town, where the motel sat like a tired old dog under a flickering neon sign. Cleaning rooms isn’t glamorous, but it helps keep the lights on. Helps keep food on the table.
Helps me make birthdays a little more than just another day. By the time I made it home, the night had folded in tight around the house. I opened the door quietly so I wouldn’t wake Caleb.
But he wasn’t asleep. “Hey, Mama,” he said, blinking at me from the couch, wrapped in his old dinosaur blanket. “You should be in bed, baby.”
“I was waiting.
Did you bring any fries?”
I laughed, dropped my keys in the bowl, and handed him the small paper bag I’d hidden in my coat pocket. “Just one. Don’t tell your dentist.”
He grinned and took a bite, ketchup already on his cheek.
We didn’t say much after that. Sometimes, love is quiet. Just showing up.
Just fries after midnight. When I finally tucked him in, he pulled the blanket up to his chin and gave me that look—the one where his eyes squint a little like he’s trying to read the truth on my face. “Is it the zoo?” he whispered.
“Nope.”
“Mini-golf?”
I smiled and shook my head, brushing the hair off his forehead. “Then what is it?”
“You’ll see tomorrow.”
He groaned, dramatic like only an almost eleven-year-old can be. “That’s so unfair.”
I pulled out Charlotte’s Web.
He knew it by heart, but still leaned in close, listening like the story might change if he paid close enough attention. His eyes started to droop halfway through Chapter Four. By the time Wilbur was learning about the meaning of friendship, Caleb’s breathing had gone soft and slow.
I looked at him—so small, curled up in a way that made his whole body seem like a single question mark. I turned off the lamp and whispered into the dark, more to myself than him. “Whatever it takes… I’ll make tomorrow perfect.”
The morning air smelled like sun-warmed grass and summer hopes.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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